After three years of being the one he always took for granted, I accidentally knocked over the puzzle hanging by his bed the day after meeting his parents.

Each puzzle piece had a name scrawled on the back: Kinsley Moore, his first love, who was now married to someone else.

He had always been calm, never raising his voice at me, but that day he slapped me. I struck back harder and left him behind for good.

Later, he tossed the puzzle aside and insisted on taking me home.

——

Xandros had a passion for puzzles. Every inch of our home, from the bedroom to the living room, was filled with puzzles of different sizes.

The one hanging near the bed was a beautiful landscape, a sunset over an unknown horizon, sealed behind glass—except for one missing piece right where the sun was, leaving the scene oddly unfinished.

I had brought it up once, but Xandros easily brushed it aside, claiming it was lost and never bothering to explain.

The puzzle lay in ruins on the ground, surrounded by shards of broken glass, a mess mirrored my thoughts' confusion.

Last night, we were still talking about meeting each other’s parents, but now, Kinsley’s name was spread across our bedroom floor.

I stood there for a while, having no intention of cleaning up. After a moment, I walked to the living room, sank into a chair, and checked the time. Xandros would be home from work in about thirty minutes.

I watched the digital clock as the seconds slipped away until I heard the door open.

Xandros walked in, turned on the living room light, and casually asked, “Why didn’t you turn on the light?”

Without answering, I simply stared at the bedroom door.

“Xandros, I accidentally shattered the puzzle by the bed,” I said at last.

Xandros paused for a heartbeat, then dashed toward the bedroom without uttering a word. He halted at the door, and I saw his hand clenching slowly at his side. Without looking back, his voice came out low and tense as he asked, “Why?”

I fought to suppress the whirlwind of emotions bubbling up inside me and began, “Xandros, don’t you think you should explain—”

I hadn’t even finished my sentence when Xandros’s furious sliced through the air.

“I asked you why! Why?! You’re so pathetic that you couldn’t resist touching it, could you?” he thundered.

Xandros’s fist crashed against the bedroom door, the sudden noise causing me to flinch. Fear began to creep into my heart, swiftly overtaken by a storm of anger.

“Xandros, are you yelling at me? Why does every single puzzle piece have your ex-girlfriend’s name on it? Hanging her name by the bed—how disgusting! She’s married, and yet you can’t move on? Tough luck; she doesn’t even give a damn about you!” I fired back.

My thoughts simmered, and I spoke without a second thought. My vision blurred with tears I hadn’t even realized were spilling down my face. It wasn’t until I felt Xandros’s hand land hard against my cheek that I felt his hand crash against my cheek.

Everything became crystal clear in an instant. I noticed Xandros’s neck flushed red, his right hand trembling, and in his eyes, I caught a flicker of anger mixed with confusion. The room fell into a heavy silence, and neither of us uttered a word.

As the burning pain on my face grew more pronounced, I struck back with all my might, my newly manicured nails leaving bright red streaks on Xandros’s cheek.

He remained frozen in place, his head turned to the side. Without a second thought, I snatched my bag from the shoe cabinet by the door, slammed it shut, and stepped out of the apartment we had shared for two long years.

Sitting in my car, I felt my emotions swell uncontrollably. I forced my eyes wide open, battling the tears that threatened to cloud my vision again. The scorching August air now felt like a chilling plunge, leaving my body and heart trembling.

Once I had steadied my emotions, I drove back to my cozy apartment. Since moving in with Xandros, I haven’t returned here in ages. I tore the dust cover from the sofa and let myself fall onto it.

The flashy chandelier on the ceiling, which I had selected myself, looked far more attractive than the sterile white square light in our bedroom."

When did I begin to consciously let go of the things I used to love?

I met Xandros during my senior year internship, where he served as the team leader.

His friendly demeanor and boundless patience shone through, responding to our myriad questions without a hint of frustration despite being just a group of bewildered interns.

It felt as if I was destined to be attracted to him. Once the internship concluded, I threw myself into staying at the company. Although the industry didn’t particularly fascinate me, I was resolute in my decision to remain near Xandros without a flicker of doubt.

Once I officially entered the workplace, I dove headfirst into the pursuit of him.

Eager and passionate after graduating, I was brimming with enthusiasm and passion, pouring every ounce of my energy into expressing my feelings for Xandros.

Each day, like clockwork, I delivered breakfast, presented him with coffee adorned with little hearts drawn on the cups, and initiated conversations at every opportunity, even when there was nothing of consequence to discuss

Like a determined moth, I inched closer to the alluring light I craved more than anything.

In the beginning, Xandros would always smile and graciously accept my gifts, only to return the money for breakfast and coffee. Whether I accepted them or not, his gentle refusals ignited a spark of courage within me to get closer.

Following his third rejection of my weekend invitation, he invited me for lunch during Monday’s break. With a soft touch, he conveyed that we weren’t compatible, acknowledged my wonderful qualities, and suggested I look toward the future.

His soft and gracious nature, even in rejecting me, made me feel even more hopelessly drawn to him.

With enthusiasm, I promised him we could start as friends, pledging never to put him in an uncomfortable position again.

Three months later, I found the courage to confess my feelings again.

This time, he didn’t reject me outright; instead, he left me uncertain, saying we could try and see how things unfolded.

Amidst his pursuit of a key promotion, whispers of an office romance began to circulate, and not wanting to jeopardize his career, I offered to resign.

Xandros asked to talk, insisting I didn’t need to make such sacrifices for him. I didn’t mind; after all, I had joined the company for him, and now I was leaving for the same reason. It was on that very day that we officially became a couple.

In the beginning, I was like a child who had fallen into a candy jar, my smile stretching from ear to ear every day. But when my parents learned I had quit my job, their anger erupted, and they scolded me mercilessly.

Hunting for a job hadn’t gone smoothly, and Xandros, feeling guilty, made it a point to take me out to dinner every night after work while helping me polish my resume.

Though I was feeling low, every time I caught sight of his warm, serene expression, my heart swelled with joy.

Lost in the euphoria of newfound love, I was utterly enchanted by everything about him. My friends often joked that I was like a devoted puppy at Xandros’s feet—so loyal that if he tossed aside trash, I’d have happily gobbled it up without a second thought.

After a year of sharing laughter and dreams, I discussed the prospect of moving in together. Xandros’s warm acceptance made it easy, and soon, I was calling his apartment home.

This choice sparked a stormy confrontation with my parents, their anger mixing with disbelief as we faced off.

Xandros repeatedly sidestepped the chance to meet my parents, concocting various excuses. Gradually, I stopped asking, soothing myself with the thought that his avoidance was a sign of wisdom—no need to rush into family introductions when our bond was still taking root.

As the days stretched into months, the undercurrents of conflict grew harder to ignore.

He never once introduced me to his friends, nor did he join me at any gatherings with my friends. We clashed over this repeatedly, but he would just sit there, a passive witness to my frustration. Once I had finished airing my grievances, he’d provide some minor justification, leaving me feeling like a madwoman for my passionate outbursts.

One night, after celebrating a friend’s birthday, I unexpectedly ran into him as he wrapped up a business dinner. My heart raced as I waved and pulled my friend over to introduce them. However, before I could speak, Xandros merely nodded in my direction. They turned away, redirecting his focus to the older gentleman at his side.

I remained motionless, the sting of Xandros’s words hitting me as he described me to the man as nothing more than an acquaintance from school.

Feeling the weight of the situation, kept her lips sealed and drove me home in silence.

I lingered on the couch, lost in thought until Xandros finally walked in. Before I could utter a word, he quickly clarified, “That was a government official. This project is our company’s inaugural collaboration with them, it’s essential. Zuri, let’s be mature about this.”

He concluded by giving my head a gentle pat before making his way into the bedroom.

All the emotions I had kept bottled up surged within me once more, fighting to break free.

Maybe he couldn’t quite put his finger on why it was essential to describe me as an unknown classmate in front of a significant official. Still, he wielded that reason to brush me aside.

I launched a one-sided cold war with Xandros, yet he carried on as if nothing had shifted. His demeanor and daily routines remained unchanged, leaving me feeling like a clown in a one-woman show. A few days later, I managed to talk myself out of my frustration once again.

Once we were together, I learned that Xandros was fond of puzzles, so I carefully selected a few that matched the style of his home and presented them to him as gifts.

One weekend, I noticed the puzzles I had given him resting in a pile in the corner of the living room, still unopened. I suggested we could enjoy assembling them as a team.

Sitting on the sofa, Xandros showed the slightest furrow of his brows, an expression of impatience that I had never seen before. I stood there, holding the puzzle box, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over me.

Xandros lifted his gaze to meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, his expression softened. “All my puzzles are custom-made,” he explained, his tone surprisingly gentle. “I’m not really into those kinds.”

He gestured with a subtle nod toward the box in my hands as if it were an afterthought.

Feeling a flush of embarrassment, I set the box back in its place. As I turned around, I caught Xandros lost in contemplation, his eyes fixed on a puzzle adorning the living room wall. His expression radiated a gentle warmth I had never encountered, wrapping around me like a soft blanket.

I stumbled upon Kinsley by chance. That day, I had wrapped up my fieldwork earlier than expected and chose to wait for Xandros downstairs at his office, eager to surprise him.

When I caught sight of Xandros, he was accompanied by a man of similar age. I positioned myself off to the side, out of Xandros’s line of sight.

Just as I was about to walk up behind him and give his shoulder a playful tap, the man with him abruptly stopped, his gaze fixed on his phone.

"Xandros, Kinsley will be there too! I just checked. You have to go, right? Trust me, if you stay proactive, opportunities will knock at your door. After all, you two shared so much time together..."

The man’s succinct statements left me utterly dumbfounded, standing there like a statue, unable to process the enormity of what I had just heard. I didn’t follow them; I merely watched as Xandros's familiar form slipped away from my view.

Xandros had never opened up about his past, and I never found the courage to pry. His gentleness toward me always felt tinged with a certain distance, as if one wrong move could send everything crashing down.

I journeyed home alone. During the drive, a message from Xandros flashed on my phone, saying he was caught up in a work dinner and would return late. For once, I let the message sit unanswered.

The man’s words lingered in my thoughts, repeating like an unwelcome melody. I regretted not chasing after them, not seeking more of their meaning. An inexplicable fear began to wrap around me, threatening to overwhelm me if I didn’t find a way to confront it.

I came across Xandros’s Facebook account, a place I had seen before but never had the courage to follow. I sensed it might irritate him. I had browsed through his profile a few times previously, noting how infrequently he updated it. This time, I ventured into his following list, clicking through each name until I spotted the man who had been with Xandros that day; they appeared to be old university classmates.

As I continued scrolling, I stumbled upon the first person Xandros had ever followed: Kinsley.