The next morning, Nathan was gone before I woke up.

On the dining table sat a bowl of porridge.

Beside it was a note.

“Eat something before taking your medicine.”

Four years ago, that sentence would have made me cry with happiness.

Now I poured the porridge into Milo’s bowl.

Then I opened my laptop.

There was something I should have done half a month ago.

Our apartment was Nathan’s.

The furniture was mostly his.

Even the car downstairs had been purchased in his name.

But the little design studio I had abandoned three years earlier was mine.

Before Nathan convinced me that “a woman didn’t need to work so hard,” I had been an interior designer.

I had clients.

Savings.

Ambition.

Then slowly, I gave them all up.

That morning, I called my former partner.

—Lena, is your offer still available?

She went silent.

—You mean coming back to the studio?

—Yes.

She screamed so loudly I moved the phone away.

Three days later, I signed the contract.

One week later, I rented an apartment near the studio.

I didn’t tell Nathan.

Not because I wanted revenge.

There was simply nothing left to discuss.

Then Ariana sent me a message.

A photograph appeared first.

The red velvet ring box.

Inside was a diamond ring.

“Valeria, please don’t misunderstand. Nathan bought it because I helped him through a difficult period. He said you get emotional easily, so I thought I should explain.”

I stared at it for several seconds.

Then replied:

“It’s beautiful. Congratulations.”

She didn’t answer.

But that evening Nathan came home furious.

—What did you say to Ariana?

I looked up from packing books.

—She showed me a ring. I congratulated her.

—Stop pretending!

He grabbed the suitcase.

—What is this?

—Mine.

—I can see that. Why are you packing?

I closed the zipper.

Nathan stared at me.

Something finally shifted in his expression.

—Where are you going?

—My new apartment.

He laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because he didn’t believe me.

—Enough, Valeria.

He rubbed his forehead.

—How long are you planning to punish me?

I took something from the drawer.

Our apartment key.

I placed it in his palm.

—I’m not punishing you.

His fingers closed automatically around it.

—I’m doing exactly what you asked.

Nathan went still.

I looked directly into his eyes.

—You said if I couldn’t accept your relationship with Ariana, we should finish.

I smiled faintly.

—I can’t accept it.

—So we’re finished.

For once, Nathan had nothing to say.

I carried my suitcase toward the door.

He caught my wrist.

—Wait.

I pulled free.

—Don’t touch me.

His face had gone pale.

—You’re serious?

That question almost made me laugh.

For four years, every breakup threat had been serious when it came from him.

Apparently it became a joke when I accepted it.

—Very.

—Because of Ariana?

—No.

I looked at him.

—Because of you.

His expression cracked.

I continued quietly.

—I don’t care whether you slept with her.

—I never—

—I don’t care.

That silenced him more effectively than any accusation.

—I don’t care about the ring. I don’t care about her posts. I don’t care why you ran to her apartment because of a bee.

I paused.

—I care that when I had a fever of thirty-nine degrees, you left me alone.

Nathan’s lips parted.

—I didn’t know it was that serious.

—You didn’t stay long enough to find out.

I opened the door.

Behind me, his voice suddenly softened.

—Valeria.

I stopped.

—Don’t leave tonight.

Those were words I had begged him to say countless times.

Now they arrived years too late.

I walked out.

For the next two weeks, Nathan called every day.

I blocked him.

He used another number.

I blocked that too.

Flowers arrived at the studio.

I gave them to the receptionist.

Then expensive gifts arrived.

I returned them unopened.

Finally, he came himself.

It was raining.

Strangely appropriate.

Nathan stood outside my studio soaked from head to toe.

For the first time, I understood what I must have looked like that night waiting for a taxi.

—Five minutes —he said.

—You have two.

He swallowed.

—Ariana resigned.

I nodded.

—Okay.

His eyes searched my face.

—That’s all?

—What response were you expecting?

—I told her we couldn’t contact each other anymore.

—Good for you.

His voice became desperate.

—Valeria, I’m fixing it.

I almost felt sorry for him.

—No, Nathan.

I shook my head.

—You’re removing Ariana because you think she was the problem.

He frowned.

—Wasn’t she?

—She was only the person who showed me what you thought I deserved.

He went silent.

I stepped closer.

—Every time I needed you, you taught me that someone else could be more important.

—Every time I complained, you threatened to leave.

—Every time I cried, you waited for me to apologize.

His eyes reddened.

—Then tell me what to do.

I looked at the man I once believed I couldn’t survive without.

And realized I felt nothing except exhaustion.

—Learn not to threaten the next woman with losing you.

Then I walked inside.

A month passed.

My life became busy.

Beautifully busy.

The studio landed a hotel renovation contract.

I adopted another dog so Milo had company.

I cut my hair.

I bought ridiculous yellow curtains Nathan would have hated.

And I slept better than I had in years.

Then Lena rushed into my office one afternoon.

—You’re not going to believe this.

She handed me her phone.

Ariana had posted again.

But this time there was no romantic caption.

No intertwined hands.

Just a long statement.

She claimed Nathan had “used her emotional dependence” while maintaining a relationship with me.

She said the ring had never been an engagement ring.

Nathan had bought it for me.

I stared at the screen.

Apparently, on our anniversary, Nathan had planned to propose properly.

The ring Ariana photographed had been in his coat pocket.

When he rushed to her apartment, she found it while he was fixing the window screen.

She took the photograph deliberately.

And Nathan had discovered the post only after returning home.

That was why he had been sitting in the dark waiting for me at three in the morning.

Lena watched me carefully.

—So?

I handed the phone back.

—So nothing.

Her mouth dropped open.

—But the ring was yours!

—No.

I smiled.

—A ring purchased for me isn’t automatically mine.

That evening, when I left the studio, Nathan was waiting across the street.

He held the red velvet box.

I sighed.

He approached.

—Just let me say it once.

I didn’t interrupt.

Nathan opened the box.

—I bought this because I planned to ask you to marry me on our anniversary.

Four years.

Four years waiting for him to choose me.

And now he finally stood before me with the question I once dreamed about.

I closed the box with one finger.

—Nathan, do you remember what you always told me?

His face changed.

Of course he remembered.

I repeated the words gently.

—If you can’t accept it, let’s finish.

His eyes filled with panic.

I stepped back.

—For years, I couldn’t accept how you treated me.

—I just didn’t have the courage to finish it.

I smiled.

—Now I do.

I walked past him.

Nathan didn’t follow.

But the next morning, an envelope was waiting outside my apartment.

There was no ring inside.

Only a document.

A property transfer.

Nathan had transferred the apartment we had lived in into my name.

At the bottom, he had written:

“I finally understand that saying ‘leave’ repeatedly was how I made sure you would always beg to stay. You stopped begging, and I discovered I was the one terrified of being abandoned.”

I folded the letter.

Then I called a real-estate agent.

—I’d like to sell an apartment.

The agent asked:

—Is there a reason you’re selling so quickly?

I looked around my small new home.

At my yellow curtains.

At Milo sleeping beside my feet.

At the plans for tomorrow’s client meeting scattered across my table.

—Yes.

I smiled.

—I don’t live there anymore.

And for the first time, I wasn’t talking about an apartment.