Chapter 4

I hit send.

Then, I held down his profile picture and blocked him.

The next morning, my alarm woke me up at 7:15 AM, just like any other day.

I shut it off and sat up on the sofa. It took me a few seconds to realize what had happened the night before.

The apartment felt visibly emptier.

His slippers were gone from the entryway.

I took a shower, got dressed, and headed out for work.

The subway was packed. I was squeezed against the glass door, my face practically pressed against it.

My phone buzzed.

It was my colleague, Lily Porter.

"Happy belated birthday, Elena! Yesterday was crazy busy and I totally forgot. Let me make it up to you! Dinner tonight?"

I replied with a quick "Sure!" and added a smiley face.

When I got to the office, I booted up my laptop.

There were over thirty unread emails in my inbox—mostly manuscript submissions and editorial feedback.

I went through them one by one, replying and setting priorities.

Work is a wonderful distraction. It keeps your brain too busy to ache.

By the time I left the office, the sky was pitch black.

I walked out of the high-rise building, wrapping my scarf tighter against the biting wind.

And then, I saw him.

Ethan was sitting on the concrete steps outside, cradling a massive bouquet of red roses wrapped in elegant white paper. It looked expensive.

The moment he saw me, he stood up.

"Elena."

I stopped in my tracks but didn't walk any closer.

He stepped toward me, holding out the flowers.

Tucked inside the bouquet was a pink card that read "Happy Birthday".

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I’ve been thinking about us all day. We can’t just end things like this."

"I made myself very clear last night."

"You did, but I wasn't ready to listen."

He nudged the flowers closer to me.

"Just take them first."

"I don't want them."

His hands froze in mid-air.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" he pleaded.

"No. I already have dinner plans."

"With who?"

"None of your business."

His face darkened slightly, but he quickly forced that pleading look back onto his face.

"Elena, I know you don't want to see me right now. But at least give me a chance to explain."

"You explained everything last night."

"No, I didn't. My mind was a mess last night, I was just talking nonsense. I’ve had time to think today, and I know exactly where I went wrong."

I stared at him.

"The problem is that you love someone else. You admitted that yesterday. What else is there to say?"

He choked on his words.

I walked right past him, heading toward the subway station.

He scrambled to catch up, walking alongside me.

"Where are you having dinner? Let me drive you."

"No."

"At least take the flowers. I went to three different florists to get these."

I stopped and turned to face him.

"Ethan, yesterday you sent a cake and a gift to Chloe. Today, you’re trying to give me flowers. Do you really not see how pathetic this is?"

His face flushed red.

"I talked to her. I told her we can't contact each other anymore."

"You told her that?"

"Yes. I texted her this morning and made it clear. We are done. For good."

I looked at him, and suddenly, a bitter laugh escaped my throat. The cold wind carried the sound away.

"So you think just because you cut her off, everything can magically go back to the way it was?"

"I know it’s not that simple, but I will do whatever it takes—"

"You say you love me," I interrupted. "What exactly do you love about me?"

His mouth opened, but no words came out immediately.

I waited for a few seconds.

"What do you love about me, Ethan?" I asked again.

"You're amazing," he said quickly.

"You’re sensible, you know how to run a home, and being with you makes me feel grounded. You’re always understanding about my crazy work hours, and you never throw tantrums. Your cooking is incredible, and you keep our place so clean. You..."

He went on and on.

It was eye-opening. In his eyes, I was just a great domestic partner—someone who cooked, cleaned, and didn't make a fuss. I was the perfect "wife material."

It wasn't about passion. It wasn't about love. It was about convenience.

"So, because I was understanding and tried to save money, I deserved to be lied to?"

He stopped talking.

"Because my cooking is good, I’m supposed to be your personal chef? Because I kept the place clean, I’m supposed to be your free housekeeper?"

"Ethan, did you want a girlfriend, or did you just want free domestic labor?"