Rapid Breakdown

“Let’s break up, Carl.”

I never dreamed that I would be the one asking for a breakup.

I had a crush on Carl Lorde for three years and tried to win his heart for five. When we finally got together, I did everything he wanted and never even considered a breakup.

He cast me aside for Cynthia Winston, his childhood friend, repeatedly and put me on the spot constantly. Yet, I never made a fuss because I loved him and had spent five years winning his heart.

I could not bear to give up on him. But at this very moment, I was in despair because I had lost my baby.

Due to one single phone call from Cynthia, he heartlessly left me and my baby in a deserted area. In the end, I miscarried.

When I lay alone on the hospital bed and never received any replies on my phone, I gave up.

After staying in the hospital for half a month, I applied for a discharge despite the doctor’s protest.

I returned to Carl’s house and packed up my stuff. Just as I was about to leave, I saw him and Cynthia coming back.

They gave off such intimacy as they talked and laughed together. They looked like a perfect couple.

Cynthia was leaning against his embrace with flushed cheeks. As for Carl, he had no intention of letting her go, even after he saw me.

When he noticed my luggage bag, he said in displeasure, “Are you throwing another tantrum, Natalie?”

A tantrum? So, to him, I was always unreasonable.

Whenever I showed a shred of displeasure about Cynthia and argued with him, he would call me unreasonable. He claimed that he could not get through to me with words. He would then lecture me from a moral high ground and say that I was evil and irrational.

He said that he only treated Cynthia as his sister and that I should stop being paranoid. Even his friends said that I was being too suspicious of them. According to them, if there really was anything romantic between them, they would have gotten together long ago; I would never have been in the equation.

When Cynthia saw my sickly appearance, she gave me a fake, naive smile and said, “Don’t misunderstand, Natalie. I’ve been sick lately. Carl was worried about me, so he came over to take care of me for a few days. That’s why he took so long to get back. Don’t fight because of me.”

It seemed like an explanation on the surface, but it was actually a boast. Sadness welled up in me.

Carl had left me behind on a highway while it was pouring, all because Cynthia was sick. He ran off without hesitation to take care of her.

I found the entire situation hilarious.

Remembering how I had lain on the operating table alone and felt my baby leave my body, I felt a sharp pain in my heart.

Suddenly, I felt as if I could not breathe. I no longer had any strength to continue arguing with them and just wanted to leave.

Hence, I went straight to the point. “Let’s break up, Carl.”

Carl’s expression turned impatient. “Natalie, could you be more mature? You know that Cynthia’s always been a sickly kid. I’m her childhood friend, and I consider her my sister. It’s only right that I take care of her.”

I was being immature? Just who exactly was immature in this situation? Also, what exactly did I have to do to be considered mature? Carl had to take care of Cynthia simply because she was his childhood friend, and he considered her his sister?

Was that also why they behaved like lovers in the name of being “siblings”? But Cynthia was right. As long as she needed Carl, he would return to her side no matter what. He treasured Cynthia and would be extremely worried about her if anything happened to her. He constantly paid attention to her.

He kissed her, hugged her, and held her hand. All that was left was for them to sleep together, yet he called me immature.

I was his actual girlfriend, but he would give me the cold shoulder and always be impatient with me. As such, my self-esteem plummeted, and I even became mentally ill for a time.

If he gave me a fraction of the attention he had given to Cynthia, he would know about these things.