Chapter 3

At the thought, my tears fell again. I clung to Lily, sobbing.

If Damian was a nightmare in my life that I failed to recognize, then Lily was probably heaven's way of making it up to me.

I went to the apartment Damian and I were supposed to share after the wedding to pack my things.

When I arrived, I did not expect Damian to already be there.

He sat on the couch, barely looking up. "Done throwing your tantrum? Back now?"

I tried hard to steady my trembling voice. "I'm not throwing a tantrum, Damian. I'm serious about breaking up.”

"I came back to pack my things."

Surprisingly, Damian said nothing. He just sat there quietly, legs crossed, hands folded, watching me with an almost mocking smile. I suppressed the discomfort rising in my chest and started packing.

I did not have much that truly belonged to me, only a few items. Most of what I owned, Damian bought for me after I moved in.

When we first started living together, he looked at my colorful cups and towels and frowned.

"Elara, why is your stuff so tacky? It looks hideous."

The next day, he replaced everything.

When I tried to confront him, he said dismissively, "Your things are too cheap and tasteless, so I replaced them."

That was the first time I wanted to end things. I couldn't grasp why personal preferences had to be labeled as high or low, classy or tacky.

However, Mom talked me out of it. "If Damian likes you, just let him have his way. You've been together for so many years. You can't break up over something so small."

That time, I gave in. It took me a long time to realize it was not a small thing at all.

Anything that makes one uncomfortable should never be treated as a small thing.

The only part of this place I felt connected to was the corner where I wrote. There sat a desk, a lamp, and a computer. From that corner, I crafted countless works.

I loved writing since I was young, but Damian always accused me of "wasting time on useless things," so I put that hobby aside.

It was not until college, when I had more free time, that I started writing again. Damian was my first reader.

I was so excited, hoping he would praise my work. But after reading it, he only said coldly, "What you wrote is complete nonsense. It's worthless.”

"Elara, you have no talent for writing. Give it up."

Still, I loved writing too much. For the first time, I did not listen to him.

I kept writing, and eventually, I made something of it.

When I received my first payment, I showed it off to Damian with a little pride. "I got paid for my writing! 300 dollars!"

I wanted to prove to him that people read what I wrote, that they were even willing to pay for it. I wanted to prove I was not as terrible as he said.

What was Damian's reaction that time?

He skimmed through my work quickly, barely glancing at it, then delivered his verdict.

"It's completely worthless."

He looked down at me, his eyes full of mockery. "There are still kind people in this world. They probably gave you money just to encourage a beginner.”

"You really think you're good at this?"

Every word became a blade, popping the bubble of hope in my heart and leaving behind a festering, oozing wound.

After that, no matter how much money I made from writing, I never told Damian again.

I took a deep breath and reached for my computer, only to notice it was still on. When I opened the screen, all my saved drafts had disappeared!

I had a hundred thousand words saved. Every single word was carefully chosen, typed out after endless deliberation. The amount of effort poured into it was beyond words.

I checked the recycle bin and searched through the document history.

There was nothing. They were all gone!

Only one person would do something like this.

Damian's voice suddenly came from behind me. He leaned against the doorway, watching me with unreadable eyes.

"I deleted what you wrote. That useless garbage is what's getting ideas in your head.”

"You don't actually think you can leave me and survive on your own with that worthless trash, do you?"