Chapter 1

The elevator descended slowly. Downstairs, the moving crew had already arrived.

"Miss Ella, we can start moving your things now," the mover said.

I nodded slightly. Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Francesco.

Where did you go? I don't see you.

I froze for a moment.

Looking at our chat history, the screen was filled with messages I had initiated. For the longest time, I was the only one trying to keep this relationship alive.

This sudden inquiry made my fingertips tremble slightly.

But the moment I tapped open the chat box, his second message popped up.

By the way, go to the dry cleaner downstairs and pick up Nicole's coat. Grab some strawberries on your way back too. Nicole likes them.

I stared at those two lines for a long time.

It turned out he hadn't noticed I was missing because he cared. He only realized I wasn't around when he needed an errand girl.

I scrolled up through our past texts. Almost every single message revolved around Nicole.

"Your coworker brought back a limited-edition collectible from abroad. Give it to Nicole. I'll buy you a new one later."

"Nicole has been wanting French food. Let's go tonight. I already booked a table."

Francesco's texts were always demands. He made every decision on his own, never once bothering to ask what I wanted.

I remembered a few days ago when it was raining heavily. I had texted him, asking if he could pick me up on his way home.

"I'm busy with something else," he had replied. "How about this? I'll send someone to get you."

Yet not long after, Nicole posted a photo on social media. The picture showed a tilted umbrella shielding her as she got into the passenger seat of a car. Her caption read, Almost got stranded in the heavy rain. Luckily, someone came to my rescue just in time.

I knew the interior of that car all too well.

I used to comfort myself by thinking that Francesco was my boyfriend and Nicole was my biological sister. I told myself I should be happy they got along so well.

But my constant giving in only made his blatant favoritism even more shameless.

This time, I didn't reply.

While I was packing the remaining items in the apartment, another message from Francesco arrived.

"Why aren't you back yet? Nicole wants pasta, so I'm taking her over to the restaurant first. Just come by yourself later."

This had happened countless times before.

Even when we made plans to eat together, if I was just a few minutes late due to work or traffic, I would arrive to nothing but leftovers.

Whenever I expressed my hurt, Francesco would always look indifferent.

"Nicole has a sensitive stomach, so it's only normal that she eats first," he would say. "Besides, the food is just a little cold. It still tastes fine. Stop being so petty and making a scene over nothing."

He claimed I was making a scene.

But back when a pipe burst in my apartment and flooded the whole place, leaving it a total mess, I had called him for help. He used the exact same excuse.

"I don't have time to go over. I already sent someone. Stop making a scene."

So, I learned to fix everything myself. I slowly learned to stop relying on him.

Over time, I figured out how to carry every burden alone.

Yet, when it came to my sister Nicole, he acted like a completely different person.

"A girl shouldn't force herself to handle everything alone," he had told her. "If you ever need anything, just say the word. Your sister lives right downstairs anyway, so it's no trouble for me to drop by and help."

I could never understand why offering a hand to me was "making a scene," while doing the exact same for Nicole was just a "painless favor" he gladly did himself.

Suppressing the bitterness in my chest, I texted back.

You guys enjoy your dinner. I'm busy.

A long time passed before he finally replied.

Throwing a tantrum again? Ella, you're an adult. Stop acting like a child.

It wasn't like I hadn't thrown tantrums before.

Last winter, I ran a raging fever and shivered all over. I called him, begging him to bring me medicine.

Instead, he told me he was at Nicole's place because she wasn't feeling well, and he was delivering painkillers to her.

When I told him I was sick too, he fell silent for two seconds before saying, "It's just a cold and a fever. Just take some over-the-counter medicine. If that doesn't work, I'll call a family doctor for you."

That was the first time I hit my absolute limit.

He was my boyfriend, but I was never his priority.

I broke up with him on the spot. But he simply thought I was overreacting and blocked my number.

He was certain that I loved him too much, certain that I could never leave him.

So, he let me cry alone for two days until my tears ran dry. Only then did he have Nicole step in to invite me out for dinner.

Because I loved him, I eventually chose to forgive him and reconcile.

Since then, I never argued or complained again.

But this time was different.

I wasn't throwing a tantrum. I was truly letting go.