Part 1After I Let Go

Lisa left in the middle of our anniversary dinner again, claiming there was a problem at work.

I didn’t try to stop her. I just calmly finished my own meal.

Later that night, I saw a new post on her childhood friend’s feed. It was a photo of Lisa’s hands, sleeves rolled up, placing a dish on a table.

The caption read: Stomach flu is the worst. Huge shoutout to Lisa for saving me and making dinner. Guess that’s the confidence you get knowing you’ll always show up when I need you.

This time, I didn't call her to start a fight.

After that, whenever she had to ditch me to take care of him, I stopped protesting. I just smiled and said it was okay.

It went on like this, until her friend sent me a photo of them playing the Pocky game, their faces inches apart. I didn’t react at all.

That’s when she finally panicked. Her eyes were red, her voice a mix of panic and hurt. "Why aren't you angry?"

* * *

Lisa had only taken two bites of her steak when her phone rang.

"It's work," she said, already grabbing her purse. "I have to go."

"Okay. Go on."

I cut off a piece of my own steak and savored it. Tender, juicy. Perfectly cooked.

Lisa seemed surprised by my calm demeanor. She frowned. "I'll bring you back a gift."

And with that, she was gone.

I calmly finished my meal. A small pang of regret hit me—our last anniversary dinner, and we couldn't even finish it together.

Back home, a new post from Joshua, her childhood friend, popped up on my feed.

It was a photo of Lisa’s hands, sleeves rolled up, placing a dish on a table.

The caption: Stomach flu is the worst. Huge shoutout to Lisa for saving me and making dinner. Guess that’s the confidence you get knowing you’ll always show up when I need you.

I shut off my phone, got into bed, and went to sleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, the soft beeps of the keypad lock woke me. I tensed for a moment, then relaxed when I realized it was Lisa. As I drifted back to sleep, I felt a presence by my bed, as if someone was watching me in the dark.

The next morning, I showered and made breakfast. Just as I was setting my plate on the table, Lisa walked into the dining room.

She glanced at the sandwich and orange juice, a flicker of confusion on her face. "You... you didn't make breakfast for me?"

She hated Western-style breakfasts, and since I was never in the mood to cook two different meals in the morning, I had always made us a traditional breakfast we both liked.

"Ah, sorry. I forgot," I said, taking a bite of my sandwich. "You can just order something or grab a bite on your way to work."

I finished my meal quickly, ready to leave. When I looked up, her face had hardened.

"I know you're mad that I lied to you yesterday," she began, her voice tight. "But you used to get so dramatic, I was scared to tell you the truth..."

"I'm not mad."

"Joshua's stomach flu was acting up again, and he lives alone. I was worried, so I—"

"—I'm really not mad."

"Can you please stop this? I've told you a million times, I only see Joshua as a brother. Why can't you just understand that?"

"I'm really, truly not mad at you!" My voice rose, sharper than I intended. I saw the shock on her face and softened my tone. "I get it, I do. But I have to get to work. We can talk when I get back."

Without waiting for a response, I walked out the door, leaving her standing alone in the quiet apartment.