Chapter 2
"Seriously? You think I'm in love with her instead of you? She's got her own boyfriend, you know," Andrew said.
I kept quiet, scanning the room to see if there was anything else I needed to take with me.
He saw how absent-minded I was, and annoyance crept into his voice. "You're always like this. Can't I just have a normal social life?"
"Is that your idea of normal?" I shot back, looking him straight in the eye.
"What's not normal about it?" he said, tugging at his collar and leaning back on the couch, giving me a lazy look.
He continued, "Why do you always read so much into things? You analyze every word and move she makes for ages. Aren't you tired of it?
"How come she doesn't make a scene like you? Her boyfriend isn't constantly suspicious like you.
"You're always asking if I love you, Aleeza. Are you really that needy for love?"
I paused, just stared at him quietly.
He knew I'd grown up in someone else's home. Love was always rare and unattainable for me, like some luxury I could never afford.
He lowered his gaze, frowning. "Sorry, that was harsh."
I felt numb inside, empty and cold. I gripped the clothes in my suitcase, smoothed them out, and pressed them flat over and over, not really thinking about it.
"I used the marriage payment for the renovation of the new apartment. If we're breaking up, I can't return it right now," I said.
He closed his eyes. "I'm not in a rush for that money. Just pay me back whenever you can."
He was surprisingly generous about this.
"Anything else you want to say?" he asked.
I parted my lips, searching for words, but nothing seemed worth saying. In the end, I just shook my head.
He glanced at my suitcase, almost packed to the brim, and said, "It's already late. Why not just stay tonight? There's really no rush to leave right now."
"It just doesn't feel right for us to still live together after breaking up," I replied.
Andrew watched me intently as I zipped up my suitcase, his gaze unwavering.
"Don't leave," he said, his voice low.
"Andrew," I replied. "I'm done. There's no reason to keep this going. I'm exhausted."
Andrew swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "It's already so late. Where are you even planning to go? Isn't it dangerous out there?"
I didn't say a word, just picked up my suitcase and walked to the door.
He got up from the couch, snatched the suitcase from my hands, and spilled all my carefully packed clothes onto the couch.
"What are you doing?" Andrew asked.
"I'm leaving," I said.
Without another word, he grabbed the suitcase and started packing his own stuff.
He picked up a shirt and tried to fold it, but clearly had no idea how. After fumbling with it, he just shook it out and spread it flat in the suitcase.
Then he picked up the razor I'd given him last year.
He hesitated, glanced at me, and then looked away, pressing his lips together as he put it back on the table.
He reached for the thermos next to it, frowned, and pulled his hand back.
Andrew dropped his eyes, looking a bit defeated as he stared at the slippers on his feet.
They were these super soft, fluffy cat slippers. Mine were bear ones.
I'd stubbornly insisted on picking them out, and he finally gave in and let me have my way.
Watching a big, tall guy like him wearing those slippers always looked pretty ridiculous.
He glanced around our rented apartment, taking in all the little knick-knacks I'd brought in.
Then he looked at me again.
I stayed silent, never meeting his eyes, just focused on folding my clothes, lost in my own world.
Andrew pressed his lips together, barely picked up a few things, and then just snapped the suitcase shut, zipped it up, and carried it to the entryway.
The entryway was dimly lit, and I watched his slender figure in the shadows.
He turned back, giving me a sideways glance. "As for the rest, you can just throw them away."
Then he left.
I caught a glimpse of his profile. His nose was a little red.
He closed the door softly behind him.
Raindrops started tapping on the windowsill, and under the night sky, the rain streaked down like sharp needles.
He left without taking an umbrella.
There was an umbrella hanging on the shoe rack by the door.
The rain was getting heavier, making a loud, relentless noise.
It made me feel uneasy inside.
Summer rain was always like this—bursting in out of nowhere, wild and fierce, and then vanishing as if it was never here.
I picked up the umbrella and headed outside.
There were two elevators. One was slowly moving down, getting further away.
I pressed the down button, watching the floor numbers drop on the descending elevator.
Maybe I wouldn't catch him.
I just wanted to give him the umbrella, nothing else.
The elevator finally reached the first floor.
The tiles by the entrance were already wet, and outside, people were coming and going, tracking muddy footprints everywhere.
Andrew was still at the entrance and hadn't left yet.
He was looking down, his lashes lowered, talking quietly to the person in front of him.
It was his coworker, Maisy Foster, and also a junior from school.