Chapter 6

A few days later, I went back to the apartment to pack my things.

I didn't expect Ethan to be there, but when I opened the door, he was sitting on the couch.

He lazily looked up at me. "Are you done throwing your tantrum? Are you ready to come home?"

I forced myself to keep my voice steady. "I'm not throwing a tantrum, Ethan. I meant what I said. We are over."

"I'm only here to pack my things."

To my surprise, Ethan didn't yell. He just sat there, legs crossed, hands folded, watching me with a smug, knowing smirk.

I swallowed the knot in my throat and started packing.

Truthfully, I didn't have much.

Most of the things in the apartment were bought by Ethan after we moved in together.

When we first started living together, he saw my colorful coffee mugs and patterned towels and frowned.

"Maya, your things look so cheap. They're an eyesore."

The next day, he threw them all in the trash and replaced them with gray ones.

When I tried to confront him, he just shrugged. "Your things were embarrassing. They didn't fit the aesthetic, so I upgraded them."

That was the first time I actually wanted to break up.

I couldn't understand why a simple personal preference had to be treated like a crime.

But my mom talked me out of it. "He bought you nicer things, Maya. Let it go. You guys have been together for so long, don't throw it away over some mugs."

So, I compromised.

Only years later did I realize: it wasn't a small thing.

Nothing that makes you feel small is ever a small thing.