Chapter 2

"I'm not crazy," I said, zipping up my suitcase and getting to my feet. "Martin, I already told you. We're over."

"Just because of that stupid hospital mess? I already said I wouldn't argue, but you're still all fired up, huh?" He snatched my suitcase right out of my hands.

"Seven years, Barbara! You're really gonna toss away everything we've had over something so trivial? Do you even have a heart?"

I said, "Conscience? Then why don't you tell me what that even means?

"Three years ago, when my dad was in surgery and I took time off to take care of him, how many times did you call me? Just once. And all you wanted to know was when I'd be back, because you were running out of clean clothes.

"Last year, I was working overtime until one in the morning, scared out of my mind, and I asked you to come pick me up. You said you were already asleep and told me to just take a cab and be careful. But I know you were up all night playing games with Todd.

"And today, when I was rushed to the ER, you didn't show up for two hours, and you reeked of cigarettes.

"Martin, it's not that you were late. You chose your games over whether I lived or died.

"You only bothered to come by after your game was over, just to see if I was dead or alive."

Martin was left completely speechless, unable to come up with a single word.

His face turned bright red.

"I... it's not like that..." he stammered, his voice trailing off.

I said, "Not like what? Just admit it. You don't care about me anymore. You're bored of us.

"You can't even be bothered to put in any feelings, any time.

"To you, I'm just like the fridge or the washing machine in this place. I keep things running, but you don't even care if I break down one day."

"That's not true!" Martin blurted out, flustered. "I've just been exhausted lately! We've been together for ages. Do you really expect us to be all clingy every day, like we're still in the early days? Isn't it normal for things to settle down after a while?"

"Settled down? There's a world of difference between settling down and being indifferent," I shot back.

I didn't want to argue with him anymore. I reached for my suitcase. "Let go."

Martin held on tight, his eyes growing teary as his voice softened. "Barbara, please, don't do this. We've been together for seven years. Can you really just walk away? Please, give me one more chance. I promise I'll change. I mean it, I really will."

"There's no need anymore," I replied.

"How can you say that?" Martin nearly shouted. "What do you want from me?"

Looking at him like that, I suddenly felt like there was nothing left to say. It all just felt empty.

I let go of the suitcase.

"Alright. What if we just take a break for a while, give each other some space to cool off?" I suggested.

He looked stunned, clearly not expecting me to back down.

"A break? What do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice shaky.

"Just what I said," I replied. "I'm moving out, and we won't talk to each other for a month.

"After that, if you still feel you've thought things through, we can talk. But if you're still the same as you are now, then let's just end it."

This was the last shred of dignity I could offer him.

I knew this month was just a grace period.

He needed this way out.

He needed time to tell himself it wasn't a breakup, just a cooling-off period.

Martin stood there for a long moment, then finally gave in and nodded.

"Alright. One month," he said.

He thought I was just being dramatic.

What he didn't know was, the second I made up my mind to leave, our seven-year run was already over for me.

I found a new place in record time.

Three days later, I was already moved into a cozy studio not far from the office.

On moving day, Martin suddenly felt guilty and offered to help out.

But all he did was lounge on the couch in my new apartment, glued to his phone and barking orders at the movers. "Hey, go easy with that box. There's pricey stuff inside.

"Yeah, that one. Put it over there, just don't block the walkway."

The movers shot me sympathetic looks.

I paid them, saw them out, and closed the door behind me.

Martin stood up and looked around the small but cozy apartment. "Seriously? This place is even smaller than our master bedroom. How much is the rent? Can you really afford it on your own?"

"That's for me to worry about, not you," I shot back.

"Barbara, do you have to go this far?" he said, giving me that wounded, helpless look I knew all too well.

He asked, "Is this all just to get me to beg you to come back? Alright, I get it, I messed up.

"Just come home with me.

"I'll bring all your things back myself, I swear..."

"Martin," I cut him off, "do you really think I moved out today just so you can have the satisfaction of bringing me back tomorrow, making it look like some big win for you?"

He didn't say a word, but his face said it all.