Chapter 3

In the 99 days since we broke up, this was the first time I felt so resolute.

Just a second before Luke walked in, I was still picturing him begging for me back.

Or maybe, I'd be the one, unable to hold on, begging him to come back, just like before.

But in this very second, I knew there was no possibility for us.

Luke looked into our bedroom. It was a mess.

The floor was practically buried under all his stuff, all our stuff.

That lunchbox on the very top shelf of the kitchen cabinet once held all my burning love for Luke.

Luke stormed over, grabbed it, and smashed it to the floor.

Bang! It shattered into pieces.

"You think I ate all those breakfast burritos you waited in line for every morning freshman year?"

"Let me tell you, I never even liked those breakfast burritos. Chloe did!"

"Every single time, I gave them to her behind your back!"

"How about that? Does that make you mad?"

Luke pointed at the broken lunchbox on the floor, his brow furrowed in anger, veins bulging on his neck as he spoke.

I wasn't angry. I wasn't crying.

I merely shot Luke a deadpan look, then squatted down, picking up the pieces and tossing them into a packing box.

"Do you know why I stopped bringing you breakfast after that?"

My calm tone and detached demeanor made Luke's hand, hanging by his side, tremble slightly.

I still remember that freezing winter morning freshman year. I'd just left the main cafeteria after waiting in line and found it was pouring rain, but I didn't have an umbrella.

So I called Luke.

He didn't answer for a long time, until a loud commotion erupted.

"Luke?"

"Hello? Luke?"

There was no answer on the other end, and I was about to hang up and redial.

"Luke, it's pouring out. Your girlfriend isn't still standing in line for your breakfast burrito, is she?"

I heard Luke's roommate's voice, tinged with a teasing note.

"If she knew those burritos were all for Chloe, she'd probably lose her mind!"

"It's not like I'm forcing her to buy them."

"Besides, what's the difference if I eat them or Chloe eats them?"

"She..."

Luke's casual voice rang out, tinged with a bit of sleepiness.

I couldn't bring myself to listen to the rest.

The moment I hung up, the burritos in my hand suddenly felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.

The rain beat down on my face, stinging and cold.

I walked back to the dorms through the downpour and came down with a high fever.

Luke called me countless times, but I missed every single one.

From then on, I never brought Luke breakfast again.

Every time Luke brought it up, I would lightly brush it aside.

Back then, I was so blindly in love, I convinced myself none of it mattered.

I thought I could swallow all the hurt, but deep down, I knew I never really did.

It stuck in my throat, refusing to dissolve for years.

I walked into the bedroom and threw all the photos we'd taken together into a box.

Luke looked a bit unsteady on his feet.

"Luke, these photos? They're all junk."

"Seven years together, and we don't have a single decent picture of just the two of us."

"No way!"

Luke looked utterly incredulous, bending down to rummage through the box.

But after he looked, he couldn't say a word.

Luke didn't like taking pictures, he'd told me that ages ago.

Every time I picked up my phone to open the camera, he'd instinctively dodge.

Eventually, I figured, whatever, as long as we're together.

But then I accidentally scrolled past Chloe's Ins feed, and picture after picture showed my boyfriend, Luke.

By then, I was already really bothered by Chloe.

So I set a boundary with Luke. He agreed, albeit reluctantly.

But whenever Luke and I tried to take a picture, Chloe would always appear.

It was either a hand, or half a face, or a corner of her clothes, or half a head.

She always, at just the right moment, interrupted our photos.

"Forget it, if we can't get a good one, then don't bother."

In the end, Luke would always walk away, annoyed.

That's why none of our photos were ever good.

Our photos always had Chloe in them.

Luke's face was a mess, going from pale to flushed, his mouth opening and closing.

Finally, he managed, "Chloe... she..."

"She probably didn't mean to..."