The Therapy of Letting Go

Peter Palmer and I shared a joint account.

We agreed that once we saved up two hundred thousand dollars, we’d get married.

But now, a hundred and ninety thousand of it was gone.

Peter explained, “Julia was going through a divorce, so I transferred it to her to help out. You’re both women. You can understand that, right?”

As if showing anger would mean I lacked empathy.

But I truly didn’t understand.

I would never borrow money from an ex who already had someone else.

There was no point arguing.

Just like countless times before.

I nodded. “Alright.”

Peter’s face relaxed, and he smiled. “Sarah, you’ve finally matured. Guess that breakup really did you some good.”

I froze for a moment, a ripple breaking through my calm.

I couldn’t understand how he could say that so easily.

That breakup had nearly torn me apart.

Yet it hadn’t affected him at all.

Peter was my first love.

Five years of pouring my heart out now felt like nothing but a joke.

After dinner, Peter went out as usual to “take out the trash.”

Half a year ago, Julia Sharp separated from her husband and moved into our neighborhood.

She had married a rich man before even finishing college.

According to her, her husband had violent tendencies and wouldn’t stop harassing her.

Peter wanted to make sure she was safe at home.

The sound of the door opening pulled me out of my thoughts.

Maybe he was afraid we’d argue again, so he added a few more words.

“Someone in the neighborhood chat said there was a suspicious man wandering near the gate. It might be that man. I was the one who told Julia to move here. Her safety is my responsibility.”

I couldn’t be bothered to argue.

“That man” wasn’t Julia’s husband but a thief who’d already been caught.

I nodded indifferently and said gently, “Why don’t you move in with her for now?”

Peter’s hand froze on the doorknob.

“Sarah, what are you doing again!”

His tone was filled with irritation. “I thought you’d changed…”

I looked at him, confused. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Then why did you tell me to move in with Julia? Don’t you remember I’m your boyfriend?”

“Because I trust you.”

Peter’s expression went blank for a moment, the rest of his words stuck in his throat.

He looked at me suspiciously. “You’re not angry?”

I shook my head, keeping my face calm.

Peter stared at me, his gaze circling my face over and over, trying to catch any hint of a lie.

As the seconds passed, his expression darkened.

Just then, his phone rang.

It was his custom ringtone.

Julia was calling.

I smiled and gave him a light push. “Go on, don’t keep her waiting.”

Peter grabbed my hand, as if he wanted to say something.

But the phone kept ringing relentlessly, showing no sign of stopping.

At last, he said, “Julia’s getting her divorce papers tomorrow. Once it’s finalized, she’ll go abroad to stay with her relatives. We won’t be in touch anymore.

“Just be a little more understanding during this time. When she’s gone, we’ll get married.”

Married?

To him?

The wedding I once pictured countless times was no longer part of my life plan.

I replied casually, “Alright.”