Good Girl's Done Loving

The moment I received the video, I thought it was a present from Oliver Anderson. I played it excitedly, but the content made me see red.

"Oliver Anderson will love Kimberly Yates forever. We'll never be apart. She's the only woman I'll call my wife in this lifetime."

I had no idea how long I sat there, replaying it over and over, almost like I was torturing myself. It was only when my ears got tired of hearing it that I finally had to admit the truth.

The one Oliver truly loved… wasn't me.

In the video, the way he spoiled Kimberly, the way he looked at her—that was the sort of thing I'd never had. He never held my hand when we were out shopping; he never pulled me into his arms and kissed me gently when I got mad.

The time he spent with me felt less like reality and more like some dream he'd woven to last me for a while.

When I saw in the video how Oliver kissed the curve of Kimberly's back with almost religious devotion, I finally broke. I closed the video, as if that could erase everything I'd just seen. Then, I curled up on the couch without making a sound.

I stayed like that in a daze for a long time before my tears finally slid down from the corner of my eyes.

Oliver's friends had told me countless times to let him go. The way they looked at me was like I was their enemy. They said, "If you really love Oliver, you should let him be happy."

Back then, I didn't understand what they meant. I just knew that I needed to do my best to be the perfect girlfriend. Basically, anywhere Oliver was, I would be somewhere nearby.

More times than I could count, he would press his fingers to his temples in helpless frustration and say, "Vera, I'm not going to run away."

I had nodded like I understood, then still ended up calling him all the time to check on him.

In the end, Oliver had given in. He had walked up to me, his eyes as deep as pools that often made me drown in them. They'd been filled with gentleness as he'd looked straight at me and said, "Fine. From now on, I'll be with you."

Everyone who knew him said he'd changed—so much so that it was killing him.

I'd cried and asked him about it, but all he'd done was chuckle. "How can that be? I'm fine."

But at the time, he really had gone quieter and become more withdrawn.

Looking back now, I felt like I'd finally woken up from a long dream. So, it had started all the way back then, hadn't it? Every second he spent by my side, he was suffocating.

I bit my lip, feeling my heart sink all the way into an abyss.

Just as I thought I was about to have a meltdown, Oliver appeared. He'd been standing in the darkness for who knows how long.

He only stepped forth, looking grim, when he heard me start to murmur to myself. I just stared at him dazedly.

He wore one of his usual hoodies, looking tall and lean as he stood before me, his eyes filled with apology. "Vera, do you like the birthday present I gave you?"

My throat seized up. Panic made me want to run; I was terrified that if I stayed for even one second longer, he would cruelly say he wanted to break up with me.

I pretended nothing had happened, but my tears betrayed me, spilling down no matter how hard I tried to hold them back.

Oliver watched me for a long time, then came over and pulled me into his arms, just like when he used to lull me to sleep.

His voice was hoarse, carrying a pressure that left no room for argument. "Vera, you can rest for a while. But after that, I still need to talk to you."

I inhaled his familiar cool scent and nodded dumbly. If only all of this were just a dream.

…

In the end, Oliver never said anything about breaking up. He waited until I woke up before gently sliding his arm out from under my head, numb from being my pillow for too long.

He looked at me like everything was perfectly normal. "Vera, I'm going to a party to pick Kimberly up. I'll come back and keep you company later."

I stayed quiet, only nodding obediently.

His eyes warmed. "Good girl. I'll bring you your favorite soup."

Then, he stood and left.

For a moment, in my dazed state, I thought that maybe I still had a spot in his heart, just like back then, when I stood there blushing as I confessed my feelings for him.

Time ticked by, second after second. I kept my eyes fixed on the door. The tiny flame of hope in my chest burned lower and lower, nearly dying out, yet it stubbornly refused to extinguish.

Then, one of Oliver's friends sent me a message. "If you want to keep him, then come now."

I didn't even have time to think. Before I realized it, I was already at the place his friend had mentioned.