My Boyfriend Only Cares about My Bestie

Late that night, I booked a flight for three days later and accepted an overseas assignment.

The next day, I placed my keys and my ring in front of Yarden Scott. He froze. “Is this really necessary?”

I smiled.

No, it was not. I had simply realized that building my own future was so much easier than waiting for someone to grow up.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. His drawl was as lazy as ever. “Come on. Stop making a scene. What do you want for dinner? I’ll book a restaurant.”

The keypad on the front door beeped.

Yvonne Jordan walked in. She noticed the ring on the coffee table and stopped for a moment.

Then, she shook her head and let out a sigh.

“Yara, you’re throwing a tantrum again.”

She sounded helpless and weary. “Yarden tore the sleeve of his shirt yesterday because he helped tow my car. I haven’t even thanked him yet.”

I was throwing a tantrum again.

The words rang in my ears. I suddenly felt lightheaded.

I could not remember when that phrase had become Yvonne’s favorite.

Every time I felt wronged, every time I felt disappointed, every time I wanted to have a serious conversation with Yarden, she called it “throwing a tantrum”.

Did she remember?

Three years ago, when I decided to turn down the offer from Melbourn, she was the first person I called. I had cried to her over the phone.

She had called Yarden a jerk and said, “You deserve someone better.”

When did everything change?

Maybe it started after they joined the same research institute.

They talked about quantum entanglement. They talked about string theory.

I could never join those conversations. Their voices drifted from the living room into the bedroom night after night.

“What kind of thank-you gift?”

Yarden put down his phone and looked at the paper bag.

Yvonne walked over and took out a succulent.

“I propagated this Peach Jelly succulent myself. You helped me with my car yesterday. I had to thank you somehow.”

She smiled and handed it to him. “If you take good care of it, it’ll grow into a big, beautiful clump.”

Yarden took it from her. He held it carefully and slowly turned it in his hands.

A sudden sting spread through my chest.

I turned my head and looked around the living room.

On the left side of the TV cabinet sat the tie-dyed cloth Yvonne had brought back from Cloudridge.

That very night, Yarden had replaced the tablecloth we spent an entire weekend picking out.

A pot of mint sat on the plant stand by the balcony. Yvonne had stuck a cutting into the soil on a whim, and it took root. She said it would make mojitos more convenient.

Yarden watered it every day. He cared for it more than the pothos I had kept alive for three years.

A long-handled umbrella stood in the umbrella holder by the front door. Yvonne once said she felt safer with a large umbrella on rainy days.

At some point, our folding umbrella disappeared.

Yarden placed the succulent in the middle of the bookshelf. His favorite astronaut figurine stood right beside it.

He took two steps back and looked at it. A faint smile still rested on his lips.

Yvonne suddenly turned to me and said, “Yara, you need to be more understanding.

“You know how busy Yarden is. He’s always had a bad memory.”

I smiled. “He doesn’t have a bad memory.”

Yvonne froze.

I slowly stood up. “He just doesn’t remember me.”

Yarden turned around and frowned. “Yara, what do you mean by that?”

“It means the wedding is off. We’re breaking up.”

Yvonne let out a sigh and walked over to take my hand. “Don’t make a decision while you’re upset…”

I avoided her hand.

I started packing my luggage.

I suddenly remembered the night three years ago when I had locked my offer letter in a drawer.

Yarden had held me and said, “Don’t go. Let’s build our careers together. It won’t take long. Just wait for me.”

Three years had passed.

His career had taken off. So had Yvonne’s.

Last month, the research institute published its joint paper. Their names appeared side by side on the title page.

I was the only one who had stood still.