I didn't want to argue with Shirley at first, but her words were getting more and more out of line. I couldn't take it anymore. I shot up from my seat and smashed the beer bottle in my hand on the floor.

"Shirley, that's enough! Don't go too far."

Glass shards scattered and hit Joshua, which only made Shirley angrier. She reached out and shoved me to the ground.

I winced as blood instantly filled my palm. I couldn't even tell how many cuts I had.

Seeing me injured, Shirley panicked a little and came over to check on me. The moment she leaned in, I caught a strong scent. It was the cologne Joshua always wore.

I could practically picture her hands wandering all over Joshua's body, with that gentle smile on her face.

As I shoved Shirley away in disgust, my gaze landed on a red spot on her neck. She noticed me staring and quickly covered it with her hand. "There are a lot of mosquitoes in my office lately. You know how sensitive my skin is."

Joshua shot me a smug look and chimed in, "Yeah. Shirley has super delicate skin."

In this relationship, Joshua got Shirley's real love. And all I got was lie after lie.

"Alright. Stop fussing about stupid little things. I'll take you to the hospital." Shirley looked at my hand with concern, but her actions didn't match her expression at all.

She grabbed my injured hand and yanked me up from the ground. Acting like a caring girlfriend, she insisted on sending me to the hospital.

I shook her hand off and said calmly, "Forget it. If you keep dragging me like that, I'll die before we even get to the hospital."

Only then did Shirley realize she'd been pulling on my injured hand. But she still snapped back, stubborn as ever. "Can't you speak nicely? Do you have to be so passive-aggressive?"

I didn't want to waste time arguing with her. I went to put on my shoes and head to the hospital myself.

But Shirley wouldn't let it go. She insisted on taking me, dragging me all the way to the car. Joshua hurried to claim the passenger seat, shooting me a provocative look. "I get carsick, so I need to sit in front. You don't mind, right, Chester?"

I ignored him and got into the back seat.

On the way to the hospital, I glanced around the car and noticed a bunch of eyesores, like a selfie photo of them on the dashboard, basketball shoes in the back, a men's jacket…

When Shirley and I first started dating, I once left a plushie in her car. The next day, she threw it in the trash. She claimed she was a neat freak and wouldn't allow other people's things in her car.

It turned out double standards didn't apply to just her principles. It even applied to her tidiness.

…

By the time the doctor finished cleaning and bandaging my hand, it was already 2:00 am.

I walked around the waiting area of the hospital but didn't see Shirley anywhere. I didn't bother calling her. I just stood outside and ordered a ride.

It was the middle of the night and raining, so I couldn't get a car even after an hour. With no choice, I called Shirley.

Joshua picked up. "Hello," he said, before Shirley snatched the phone from him.

I heard Joshua click his tongue and say, "I'm going to take a shower. Hurry up."

It sounded like Shirley walked further away a little before asking, "What is it?"

I didn't waste time. "I'm outside the hospital. I can't get a ride. Can you come pick me up?"

Shirley paused for a second, like she just remembered she was the one who brought me to the hospital in the first place. Then, she said, "Wait for me. I'll leave in five minutes."

But 15 minutes passed. Then, 25. But she still didn't show up.

I let out a bitter laugh. I knew I shouldn't have trusted her.

I tried booking a ride again. Maybe God finally felt sorry for me, because it didn't take long for me to get one this time.

Back home, just as I sat down, Shirley walked in right behind me.

The moment she stepped inside, she started interrogating me, "Why didn't you wait for me?"

"I'm hungry. Make me something to eat. And cook an extra portion of seafood chowder. Josh wants some. I'll bring it over to him later," Shirley demanded.

"Hey! Are you deaf?"

I hadn't slept all night, got soaked in the rain, and my head was spinning. My patience had run out, and I snapped, "Are you out of your mind? We already broke up! You don't get to order me around."

Shirley stared at me in disbelief. "What did you say? You're breaking up with me?"

"Yeah. I told you yesterday. Who's the deaf one now?"

Shirley reacted as if I had just told the funniest joke on earth. She actually started laughing, eyes watering. "Chester, did I hear that right? You're breaking up with me? How many days—no, hours—until you come crawling back? I hope you can at least hold out for 24 hours."

I looked at her calmly. I didn't even blame her for reacting this way. Because of Joshua, I had broken up with Shirley several times before. But a few hours later, I'd always pathetically apologize to her and beg her to take me back.

Shirley stopped paying attention to me and went straight into the bedroom, slamming the door shut. I pulled out my phone and started searching for short-term rentals near my office.

Peter informed me before leaving work that day that my transfer order would arrive the next day, but the official reassignment would depend on the branch office. It would probably take about a month.

I thought I'd be able to leave soon. But it turned out I still had to wait another month.

I scrolled through rental listings while mentally sorting out what I needed to pack. Ever since moving in with Shirley, I'd treated this place like home. I'd filled it with many things, and a lot of them wouldn't be easy to take with me.

After thinking it through, I decided to only take personal items. After all, I wouldn't be living in this city anymore, so those things wouldn't matter in the future.

I made an appointment with an agent to view apartments in the afternoon, then headed to the guest room to rest.

When I woke up and walked out of the guest room, Shirley looked at me with an expression I couldn't even comprehend. I didn't ask. I checked the time and went to wash up.

Suddenly, she slammed the mug she was holding onto the floor.

I turned around at the noise and saw the shattered mug on the ground. I actually let out a relieved laugh.

Back when I got obsessed with pottery-making, I had made that mug myself. It was the first piece I ever finished. When I gave it to Shirley, she laughed at me for ages, saying it was the ugliest thing she had ever laid her eyes on.

Back then, I told her very seriously, "It's just like my love for you—one of a kind."

Now, the mug was shattered. Which meant our relationship was over too.

Ignoring the broken mug, I finished washing up, put on my shoes, and headed out. Meanwhile, Shirley sat in the living room, staring blankly at my back as I left.

…

By afternoon, I'd viewed a few places and quickly settled on one. It was a fully furnished one-bedroom unit with a living room. Most importantly, it was only a five-minute walk to work.

The location of the old place was all for Shirley's convenience. But for me to get to my office from there, it would take half an hour even without traffic. Back then, I only thought about giving and sacrificing. I never imagined this would be my ending.

I paid the rent and deposit on the spot. I wanted to move in that night. I could already feel the freedom and peace calling my name.

When I got back home, Shirley wasn't there. I packed all my things into one big suitcase and rolled it out the door.

By the time I cleaned up the new place, it was already nighttime. I was exhausted, but I felt great.

Unfortunately, that happy feeling didn't last long. Shirley called me. I looked at the time and already knew what this was about.

Normally, around this hour, she'd ask me to cook her a hangover meal and draw her a bath. But she wasn't getting that from me anymore.

I picked up the phone, and her surprised voice came through, "Chester, you moved out?"