Part 2One Way

"What are you talking about? You're breaking up with me just because I didn't spend my birthday with you?"

Adrian's voice pulled me back to the present. He wrapped his arms around me again. "Come on, I'm not mad. We're not breaking up."

My friends were wrong. Adrian wasn't a difficult partner. On the contrary, when he wanted to, he could be incredibly charming. On the surface, our breakups were always his doing, and our reconciliations were always mine. But no one knew that in the dead of night, he would use a mix of tenderness and pressure to win me back. He knew exactly how to find my softest spots, making me forgive him willingly.

And now, he was trying the same trick again.

As he leaned in to kiss me, I shoved him away with all my strength. Caught off guard, he stumbled back a few steps.

Before he could regain his balance, I said, "I'm serious. I'm not joking."

In an instant, his expression turned icy, his eyes dark and menacing. "Say that again."

I couldn't blame him for being angry. In eight years, this was the first time I had initiated a breakup. Everyone, including Adrian himself, thought I would never leave him.

But this time, I was truly tired.

My gaze lingered on his handsome profile for a few seconds, then I looked away without hesitation and started to wheel my suitcase towards the door.

I had only taken a few steps when the suitcase stopped moving.

Adrian was holding onto it, his eyes locked on me. "Why?"

He had beautiful eyes. Deep and intense, they had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

I avoided his gaze. "If we don't break up, will you marry me?"

In eight years, he had been rational, ambitious, and had meticulously planned his future. But I was never a part of that plan.

The silence in the room was deafening. After what felt like an eternity, he finally asked, "Do we have to get married? Can't we just keep dating?"

I met his gaze. His eyes were like black holes, pulling you in. Even though I was reluctant to let go of our eight years together, a relationship with no future felt pointless.

Looking into those bottomless eyes, I managed a small smile. "It gets a little old after a while."

The veins on his hand, gripping the suitcase handle, bulged. He practically spat the words out. "You're tired of it?"

"Yes."

He said "Fine" three times, his eyes turning red by the end.

I didn't dare look at him anymore, afraid I would break down first. I turned and continued to walk away. The only sound in the quiet night was the dull rumble of the suitcase wheels on the floor.

As I reached the entryway, his cold voice came from behind me. "If you walk out that door today, don't ever come back!"

I paused, my throat dry. After a moment, I said, "Fine," and left without a backward glance.