The next morning, I woke up before sunrise.
For ten years, I had been accustomed to waking up beside Adrian.
Even when we were angry with each other.
Even when he refused to acknowledge our relationship.
Even when he said that marriage was something we could discuss “later.”
I had always been there.
But that morning, my bed was empty.
Not because Adrian had left.
Because I had.
I had spent the night at a hotel near the airport.
My suitcase was already packed.
My passport was on the table.
And the transfer documents from Singapore were sitting beside it.
I stared at them for a long time.
Then I signed.
No hesitation.
My phone started vibrating.
Adrian.
One call.
Two.
Five.
Then a message.
“Where are you?”
I didn’t answer.
Another message appeared.
“Why didn’t you come home last night?”
I almost laughed.
He really didn’t understand.
After ten years of hiding me, he suddenly wanted to know where I was.
I put the phone face down.
Then someone knocked on my hotel door.
It was Mateo.
He was holding breakfast.
—You didn’t answer your phone.
—I was sleeping.
He looked at the suitcase behind me.
—You’re really leaving?
I nodded.
—Singapore.
He was quiet for a few seconds.
Then he smiled.
—Congratulations.
I looked at him.
—You’re not going to ask me to stay?
—Why would I?
He placed the breakfast on the table.
—You spent ten years waiting for someone else.
—I’m not going to make you spend another ten waiting for me.
Something inside me softened.
Maybe that was what love was supposed to feel like.
Not pressure.
Not jealousy.
Not fear.
Just respect.
At ten in the morning, Adrian finally appeared at my apartment.
He had been calling me for hours.
When the door opened, his face was tense.
Then he froze.
The apartment was almost empty.
My clothes were gone.
The photographs were gone.
The books I had collected over the years were packed into boxes.
Even the small ceramic cup he had given me during our first year together was gone.
He stared at everything.
Then he saw the divorce papers on the table.
His face changed.
—What’s this?
I walked out of the bedroom.
—Our relationship is over.
He stared at me.
—You’re angry about last night?
—No.
—Then why?
I looked at him.
—Because I finally believed you.
His brows tightened.
—What does that mean?
—You said you were single.
—You said Clara was the woman you wanted.
—You agreed to be with her.
I paused.
—So I believed you.
Adrian’s face went pale.
—Nadia, you know that wasn’t real.
I laughed quietly.
—That’s the problem.
—For ten years, everything between us was real to me.
—But whenever someone asked you who I was, you became single.
He opened his mouth.
No words came out.
Then his phone rang.
Clara.
He looked at the screen.
For the first time, he didn’t answer.
The phone stopped.
Then rang again.
He turned it off.
I watched him.
—You should go.
—Nadia.
—She is waiting for you.
—I’m not going.
I smiled.
—That isn’t my problem anymore.
He stepped toward me.
—Don’t do this.
—Do what?
—Leave.
I stared at him.
—You spent ten years teaching me that you didn’t need me.
—I’m finally listening.
His eyes reddened.
—You know I love you.
My heart hurt.
But I didn’t move.
—Maybe.
—But love isn’t enough when you’re ashamed to admit the person you love exists.
He looked down.
For the first time, I saw him genuinely afraid.
—Give me some time.
I shook my head.
—I’ve already given you ten years.
Three days later, I received a call from our mutual friend.
—Nadia, Adrian hasn’t been sleeping.
I said nothing.
—He keeps asking where you are.
—Singapore.
Silence.
Then:
—He’s going to the airport.
I frowned.
—Why?
—He says he wants to stop you.
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
He had finally decided to fight for me.
But only after I stopped waiting.
At the airport, I was already approaching the security checkpoint when I heard someone call my name.
—Nadia!
I turned.
Adrian was running toward me.
His hair was messy.
His shirt was wrinkled.
He looked nothing like the composed man from the reunion.
He stopped in front of me, breathing heavily.
—Don’t go.
I looked at him.
—Why?
—Because I finally know what I want.
I smiled faintly.
—You knew ten years ago.
—You just didn’t want to say it.
He shook his head.
—No.
—I was afraid.
—Afraid of what?
—Of being responsible for someone.
I stared at him.
He continued:
—Every time I thought about marriage, I convinced myself there would be a better time.
—When the company stabilized.
—When my father recovered.
—When I made enough money.
—When I became successful.
—There was always another reason.
His eyes were red.
—And you kept waiting.
I didn’t answer.
—Until last night.
His voice broke.
—When I saw you leave with Mateo…
He swallowed.
—I realized something terrifying.
—You weren’t jealous.
—You weren’t angry.
—You were done.
I looked down at my boarding pass.
—Yes.
He took a step closer.
—Then let me start again.
I looked at him.
—Adrian.
—Ten years ago, I loved you.
—Yesterday, I loved you too.
—But today…
I lifted my eyes.
—Today I love myself more.
He froze.
The boarding announcement sounded overhead.
Singapore.
Final call.
Adrian stared at me.
—If you leave now, will you never come back?
I smiled.
—I don’t know.
—But I know I’m not going to spend another ten years waiting for someone to decide whether I’m worth choosing.
He lowered his head.
His shoulders trembled slightly.
For ten years, I had imagined the day Adrian would finally ask me to marry him.
I had imagined crying.
Running into his arms.
Saying yes before he finished the question.
But when the moment finally came…
I felt strangely peaceful.
I turned around.
Then walked toward the gate.
I didn’t look back.
Six months later, I was living in Singapore.
My career had taken off faster than I expected.
I had my own apartment.
My own schedule.
My own plans.
And, for the first time in ten years…
I didn’t have to hide from anyone.
One evening, Mateo sent me a message.
“How’s life?”
I replied:
“Busy. Happy.”
His response came almost immediately.
“Good.”
Then another message.
“Can I visit next month?”
I smiled.
“Sure.”
I put my phone down.
Outside the window, Singapore’s skyline glittered beneath the night sky.
Somewhere thousands of kilometers away, Adrian was probably still living with the consequences of the choice he had made.
He had wanted ten years to pass before deciding.
I had given him ten years.
He wanted another chance.
But I had already started another life.
And this time…
I wasn’t waiting for anyone to choose me.
I was choosing myself.
