I hadn’t walked far from the concert when a taxi suddenly pulled up beside me. The back door swung open, revealing Bryan sitting inside. His face was unreadable, but the tension was palpable.
“Get in the car,” he said, his voice flat but urgent. “Let’s talk.”
Without thinking, I nodded and slid into the seat beside him. The moment the door closed, Bryan began to explain, as if he had been rehearsing this conversation in his head.
“Don’t think too much,” he started, his tone almost dismissive. “The reason I didn’t come with you to the concert is that Larissa had a very important business deal tonight, but she can’t handle much alcohol, so I had to stay.”
His words washed over me, but for the first time, they didn’t sting. I sat there, listening but not really hearing. The strange thing was, I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t angry. In fact, I felt... nothing. It was as though my heart had finally stopped reacting to the constant excuses and justifications.
Bryan should have been relieved. I wasn’t pressing him, wasn’t demanding answers like I usually did. But instead, there was a flicker of frustration in his eyes. It puzzled me—why did he feel the need to drag me into this conversation now? He had never bothered to explain himself before. In fact, I had always been the one to initiate the talks, trying to salvage something that was slipping through my fingers. And no matter how much we talked, no matter how many explanations he offered, nothing ever changed.
“I know Larissa is important to you,” I said, cutting him off before he could offer another excuse. My voice was calm, almost indifferent. “So, just go and help her.”
Bryan stared at me, stunned, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. This wasn’t the reaction he had expected from me. I wasn’t pleading or accusing him and that left him off balance.
I didn’t say any more. I simply picked up my headphones and pressed play, letting the music drown out whatever else Bryan had to say.
“Stop the car!” Bryan’s voice suddenly became cold, cutting through the song in my ears.
I knew why he was angry. I hadn’t given him the opportunity to exit gracefully, to save face in front of the driver, who was now eyeing us through the rearview mirror. I hadn’t taken the bait, hadn’t fallen into the usual pattern of arguing and making up.
The car came to a steady stop at the curb. Bryan turned toward me, his eyes hard and unforgiving.
“Selena,” he said, his voice dripping with annoyance. “Sometimes, you really should reflect on whether you’re the problem. Maybe you’re just too narrow-minded, too sensitive.”
And with that, he slammed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the backseat.
But this time, instead of feeling crushed by his words, I felt... free. I sat there for a moment, watching him walk away and realized that for the first time, I wasn’t the one chasing after him. I wasn’t the one apologizing or begging for an explanation.
Bryan might have walked out, but this time, it was on my terms. I had finally stopped caring about his approval, his validation.
“Do you want to chase?” the driver asked, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.
“No need,” I replied, shaking my head with a soft laugh, more at myself than anything.
Reflect again? Oh, Bryan... perhaps my only fault was loving too much and not letting go sooner.
Back at home, I washed up and went straight to bed, a different routine than usual. I didn’t sit on the sofa, staring at the clock, waiting for Bryan to stumble in like I used to. Those lonely nights, consumed by worry, felt like a distant memory already. Without the weight of those thoughts, I slept deeply, dreamlessly and woke to the first light of dawn feeling strangely refreshed. There was no Bryan by my side, but I wasn’t surprised.
I lay in bed for a few minutes, out of habit and swiped through my phone. The first thing that popped up was Bryan’s Instagram Moments post from the early hours of the morning. A video.
There he was, Bryan, along with Larissa and a few of his closest friends, drinking and throwing dice at a bar. Their laughter echoed through the video, carefree and loud.
Of course, I thought to myself. Without me around to be a burden, he’s free to have fun.
But this time, there was no tight knot of jealousy in my chest, no burning need to call and ask why. There was just... nothing. Instead, I did something that would have been unthinkable before—I liked the post and then got up to get ready for work.
I’m a math teacher and today was a busy day with back-to-back classes. For the first time in years, I didn’t think much about Bryan. I didn’t send him a text during my lunch break to remind him I existed and I didn’t anxiously wait for a reply. In the past, even the most curt response from him, like "Don’t bother me," would have been enough to make me feel... seen. But now, I was fully absorbed in my students and my work.
Evening came and when I finally returned home, I was greeted by a familiar scene. Bryan was lounging on the sofa, but this time there was something different in his demeanor. He wasn’t just sitting there aimlessly—he was deliberately admiring the ring on his finger. His movements were slow, exaggerated, making sure I would notice.
“The ring Larissa gave me is so beautiful,” he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. He was baiting me, trying to provoke some kind of reaction.
But I didn’t bite. Instead, I headed straight to the study, determined to focus on something more important—my transfer application. I needed a fresh start, somewhere far from this stagnant routine and today felt like the right time to take that step.
"Selena!" Bryan’s voice grew tense as he rushed to block my path. In two quick strides, he stood in front of me, lifting his hand with the ring for emphasis. "Didn't you see my ring?"
I met his gaze, calm and steady, the way I hadn't in years. His desperation was palpable, but for the first time, I felt completely detached.
“I saw it,” I said quietly, brushing past him to sit at the desk.
Bryan frowned, clearly thrown by my lack of interest. In the past, something like this would have sent me spiraling—crying, shouting, desperate for answers. But now? Now it was just another layer of clarity.
He hovered near the doorway, as if waiting for me to say something, anything that would give him the upper hand again. But there was nothing left to say.
I picked up my pen and started writing the transfer application, feeling lighter with each word I wrote. Bryan could flaunt all the rings and excuses he wanted, but he couldn’t manipulate me anymore.
For the first time in a long time, I had finally chosen myself.
"I saw it," I replied, nodding as I kept my voice calm.
"Then didn't you hear me say it was given by Larissa?" Bryan pressed, a smug undertone creeping into his words.
I paused for a moment, slightly stunned by his persistence, then reached out and took the ring from his hand. His eyes widened, panic flashing for a brief second.
"What are you doing? Don't mess around, don’t throw it away! I like this ring!" Bryan raised his eyebrows, quickly slipping back into his familiar, self-assured attitude. The one that liked to toy with my emotions, push my buttons just to see me react.
I met his gaze evenly and slid the ring back onto his finger. "The ring is very beautiful, Bryan. Wear it well and don't lose it."
Without waiting for his response, I walked calmly into the study. The truth was, I had recognized the ring the moment I entered the room. Larissa had posted it on Instagram Moments weeks ago, bragging about how it was custom-made abroad and worth hundreds of thousands.
But I knew better. It was the kind of ring you could pick up at a street stall for about three dollars, cheap plastic. And it wasn’t just this ring—most of the clothes Larissa flaunted were knock-offs and the gifts she gave Bryan were of equally poor quality. I’d tried to warn him many times, but Bryan never believed me. He insisted Larissa only gave him the best, that she had impeccable taste.
I remembered one time in particular when Larissa gifted Bryan a jade pendant, supposedly worth $70000. I had it appraised out of curiosity, only to find out it was a fake, valued at no more than 8 dollars. I excitedly showed the appraisal report to Bryan, thinking this would finally open his eyes. He took one glance at it, shrugged and tossed it in the trash can.
“What if it’s fake? I just like it,” he said, as if that was all that mattered.
At that moment, I understood everything.
It wasn’t about the authenticity. It was never about the quality of the gifts or the truth behind Larissa’s façade. Bryan didn’t care. He treasured the cheap, meaningless trinkets she gave him because they came from her, just as easily as he’d dismiss the thoughtful and expensive things I offered.
That’s when I realized why he had no trouble gifting the watch I had bought him to one of his friends. Why he clung to every scrap of attention Larissa threw his way, even if it was wrapped in lies. He loved Larissa and everything connected to her, no matter how fake it was.
And because of that, I had been terrified—terrified that Bryan would leave me and go back to his first love. That fear made me more and more desperate, bending myself into something unrecognizable just to keep him around. I was so foolish back then, too naive to see the truth.
But now? Things were different.
When I finished writing my transfer application and stepped out of the study, Bryan was gone. The room was silent, his presence erased as quickly as he had left. I could tell he was angry. He must have been furious that I had rejected his attempts to manipulate me, that I hadn’t played into his game this time.
But honestly? His anger no longer mattered to me.
For the first time, his games had no effect on me. Bryan and his temper could storm all they wanted—what did it have to do with me now?
I was done chasing validation, done with proving my worth to someone who didn’t care.
I didn’t care anymore. I no longer searched for him desperately, like before, only to find him standing there with his arms crossed, looking down at me with that cold expression, waiting for me to spill out apologies one after another.
Now, I only took care of myself, just like I had done the night before.
What’s more, I had made up my mind to leave the city and do something meaningful. I decided to follow in my parents' footsteps and teach in remote mountainous areas, where children needed it the most.
Since I was young, I had admired my parents. I had always dreamed of becoming a teacher who could provide more children with the opportunity to learn. I achieved that dream, but then I fell in love with Bryan and somewhere along the way, I tied my life to his.
Everything I did revolved around him— I thought about what meals to cook for him, how to make him happy, what gifts to buy him. I helped him improve his lesson plans and even attended extra training courses for him.
In short, my world had become Bryan.
And what did I get in return for all the energy I poured into him? Bryan’s unpredictable hot-and-cold behavior. Larissa’s smug provocations. I ended up emotionally drained, unable to focus on my classes and I sank into depression.
But now, finally, I felt at peace.
I called my father the night before and told him about my decision.
“Son, the conditions in the mountains are harsh. It’s not like the bustling city. Have you really thought this through?” he asked gently, concern evident in his voice.
“I’ve thought about it,” I said with a smile. “You and Mom managed to persist and so can I.”
The chaotic, desire-driven world of the city no longer appealed to me. The mountains, with their lush greenery and untamed vitality, would offer something the city never could—clarity and purpose. Nature itself was the best medicine, enriching my spirit.
Besides, no matter how tough life in the mountains might be, it couldn’t be worse than the mental torture I had endured day after day with Bryan.
My father didn’t mention Bryan, because Bryan had never wanted me to tell my family about our troubles. It was just another way he had kept control.
Days passed and Bryan and I barely exchanged words. I no longer woke up early to make breakfast for him, nor did I wash his feet at night. I stopped worrying about his needs altogether.
For the first time in a long while, I lived for myself.
Even my students noticed the change, telling me I looked brighter and happier.
That morning, Bryan slammed the door again as he left. I ignored it, as I had learned to do. But as soon as I arrived at school, I received an unexpected call from one of Bryan’s close friends.
“Selena, are you even human? Do you have a conscience? How can you treat Bryan like this?”
I held the phone to my ear, stunned, as his voice raged on.
“If you don’t love him anymore, just say it! Why are you torturing him with your cold silence? Do you think you have the right to do that?”
I closed my eyes, listening to the anger in his voice and realized something I hadn’t before.
They had no idea what I had endured.
"Didn't I make myself clear enough on Larissa's birthday?" I asked myself as I ended the call and muted my phone. The frustration was palpable, but I had more pressing matters to attend to. I gathered my papers and headed to the Education Bureau to discuss my upcoming teaching position.
Bryan's good brother’s remarks seemed absurd now. What was it? I didn’t have the right to be cold? Was I only supposed to plaster a smile on my face and accept his indifference? The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed.
At the Bureau, the leaders expressed admiration for my decision and provided extensive details about the teaching opportunities. They informed me about the local customs, the number of students, the conditions of the schools and the subsidies available. We spent three hours discussing everything in detail before we wrapped up.
When I added the leader’s Instagram for easier communication, I noticed a real-name poll had been launched in our classmate group. The question was: [If Bryan were single, would you pursue him?] The poll was started by Bryan's good brother.
Larissa had already chimed in with a dramatic, "If given a chance, I would protect Bryan for life!" Other classmates jumped in, tagging both Bryan and me, fueling the chaos.
Bryan didn’t show up in the group chat. I knew he was likely lurking in the background, silently observing, just as he had done in the past. When similar situations occurred before, Bryan would appear to dismiss the fuss with a casual remark, saying, "It’s just a joke. Why are you taking it so seriously? Reflect on yourself," before calling me to scold me for being too sensitive.
Afterward, his good friends and classmates would try to mediate and I would end up being branded as the narrow-minded one. Over time, I had learned to accept that role, even if it was unfair.
This time, I chose not to engage. I simply distanced myself from the classmates' banter and cast my vote as "unwilling."