The Eighty-Ninth Time, I Did Not Look Back

The shower went quiet.

I stood by the table, still clutching the jeweler's bag.

Inside was the necklace Olivia had been wanting for months.

To afford it, I'd eaten the same thing for lunch every day for two weeks: bread that was about to expire.

Her phone buzzed again.

Another message from Daniel.

"Don't push him too far. What if he snaps and breaks up with Olivia?"

Ethan answered almost immediately, "He'd never leave Olivia. The most he'd do is sit outside all night and come back the next day to apologize."

I stared at the messages, my fingers turning cold.

Just last night, I'd sat outside that door until dawn with my knees numb from the cold.

I'd spent the whole night blaming myself. To them, it was all a joke.

The bathroom door opened.

Olivia walked out in a towel, her wet hair falling over her shoulders and her eyes still hazy from the steam.

She spotted the phone in my hand and raised an eyebrow.

"Reading my messages, Chris? You've gotten bold."

I held up the screen.

"So every time I couldn't reply fast enough, you guys set me up?"

She froze for a second, the towel in her hand still pressed to her hair.

"Not all of it."

She walked over and took the phone from my hand, smiling like none of it mattered.

"Some of it was just you being stupid."

My throat went tight.

"So last night's movie was another setup? You made me sit outside all night thinking it was my fault?"

She tossed the phone onto the couch, hooked a finger under my tie, and rose onto her tiptoes to kiss my jaw.

"I just want you to prove that you really love me. And stop making that face. I don't like it."

That trick had worked on me every time before.

Whenever my stomach hurt, she'd tell me a grown man shouldn't get sick so often, then shove medicine into my hand.

I'd always thought that was her way of showing she cared.

Now I understood. It was a carrot-and-stick routine—hurt me first, then give me just enough affection to keep me around.

I set the bag on the table.

"For you."

Olivia opened it and peeked inside.

"Not bad. At least you know how to make things right."

She put the necklace on and turned toward the mirror to admire it.

Just like that, the group chat seemed forgotten. But I couldn't forget it. There was still one thing bothering me.

"Why is Daniel in that group?"

She glanced over her shoulder.

"He's your friend, and he's mine."

I wasn't satisfied.

"And Ethan?"

Her smile widened.

"You know he's only a friend to me."

Only a friend.

But what was she to him?

She didn't answer that question, but we all knew the answer.

Something tightened in my chest. I knew I shouldn't ask, but the words came out anyway. "Then what am I?"

Olivia tilted her head, as if she actually had to think about it.

"My boyfriend."

I laughed, but I couldn't tell if I felt relieved or hurt.

She called me her boyfriend, yet treated me as if the title meant nothing.

My laugh wiped the smile from her face.

"What are you laughing at?"

I didn't answer. I bent down and grabbed the coat I'd left by the door the night before.

"I'm not staying here tonight."

Olivia frowned.

"Where are you going? Are you walking out on me?"

Again, I said nothing. I simply draped the coat over my arm.

She watched me for a moment before letting out a laugh.

"Fine. Ethan is coming to dinner this weekend anyway. It would be awkward with you here. Come back next week."

I stared at her. And just like that, my anger drained away. There was nothing left to say.

As the elevator doors closed, I caught my reflection in the mirrored wall.

I looked pale and exhausted, my eyes bloodshot.

The floor numbers ticked down one by one.

Only then did I realize I was gripping my coat so tightly that I had crumpled it in my fist.