Chapter 2
Johnny always called it childish, but he'd still hug me from behind, pulling my bunny ears to tease me.
Now, the bunny ears hung down in front of Jasmine's waist.
She came out carrying a bowl of soup, the back of her hand red from the heat.
Johnny immediately stood up and grabbed her wrist.
"How did you burn yourself again?" he asked.
Jasmine bit her lip. "I wanted to warm up some food for Maggie. I didn't think I'd be so clumsy."
Johnny turned to look at me.
"Look at Jasmine. She was worried you'd go hungry, so she came back with me," he said.
I was standing in the entryway, shoes still on.
"This is my place," I said.
Jasmine's face went pale.
Johnny's brows knitted together. "Maggie, I pay half the rent, too. Do you have to be so mean?"
The living room suddenly went quiet.
Two years ago, when I switched jobs and my salary dropped, Johnny covered my rent for three months.
Later, when his dad was hospitalized, I gave him all the 27 thousand dollars I'd saved up.
I never brought it up, not wanting to embarrass him.
He eventually forgot about it.
Jasmine said softly, "Johnny, I should probably go. Maggie doesn't want me here."
She walked out, nudging the shoe cabinet in the entryway with her toe on purpose.
A pair of men's slippers tumbled out.
I'd bought those slippers for Johnny when he first visited my place, running three blocks in the rain to get them.
Jasmine bent down to pick them up, smiling.
"These are so old. Isn't Johnny wearing the pair I got him now?" she said.
Johnny glanced down at his feet.
He was wearing a pair of dark gray slippers with a tiny "Johnny" embroidered on the top.
They matched the pair Jasmine showed off online, with "Jasmine" stitched on them.
He didn't think anything of it.
"There's a handmade shop near Jasmine's office. I grabbed them on my way," he said.
I nodded.
"Yeah, they really match," I said, my tone flat.
Johnny's face relaxed, thinking I was backing down.
He pushed the takeout box toward me.
"Here, I saved the beef stew for you," he said.
When I opened the box, there were a few scraps of meat and some sauce left.
I used to wait in line for two hours at that restaurant to get him that beef stew.
That night, he'd worked overtime until the early hours, sitting outside a convenience store and wolfing down the food.
I asked him if it tasted good.
He said, "When I've got money, I'll take you to a window seat and give you the whole plate."
Now, he gave the whole plate to Jasmine.
All that was left for me were the scraps.
My stomach churned with nausea.
I snapped the lid back on.
"Johnny, move your stuff out tomorrow," I said.
Jasmine jerked her head up.
Johnny stared at me, like he didn't get it. "What?"
"This place isn't for outsiders," I said.
His expression darkened, little by little.
"Because of a passenger seat and an anniversary, you're kicking me out?" he asked.
"It's not just about the passenger seat," I said.
Tears welled up in Jasmine's eyes and slid down her cheeks.
"Maggie, please don't do this. It's all my fault. I won't take that seat again," she said softly.
Johnny moved to shield her, pulling her behind him.
"Stop pressuring her," he said.
He shot me a look, disappointment and annoyance written all over his face.
"Maggie, you weren't like this before," he said.
I was never the type to sit in the back seat.
The bedroom door was open.
There was a photo of Johnny and me on the nightstand.
In the picture, he was putting the car keys in my palm, his eyes lit up with a big smile.
Out in the living room, Johnny was still talking. "If you want to break up, don't regret it later."
I walked into the bedroom and picked up the photo frame.
I could see the two shadows standing close behind me reflected in the glass.
The next second, I shoved the frame into the drawer.
Johnny stormed in and grabbed my wrist.
"Maggie, are you done with your drama?" he snapped.
His grip was strong.
The drawer wasn't fully closed, and the corner of the photo was caught in the crack.
The next morning, Johnny hadn't moved his stuff out.
Breakfast was laid out on the table.
There was a bowl of oatmeal and a peach pie.
I didn't eat peaches.
Since Jasmine had that allergic reaction, she hasn't touched peaches either.
Johnny was the only one who liked them.
He came in from the balcony, sounding indifferent.
"I thought about it last night. You've been under a lot of pressure at work lately. I won't hold it against you," he said.
The plastic bag was from the shop below Jasmine's office.
Inside was a cup of coffee, with a sticky note slapped on the side.
"It's for Jasmine. She's having cramps, so could you bring it to her at lunch?" he said.
I froze mid-wash.
Johnny leaned against the doorframe.
"Aren't you two supposed to be best friends? Don't always put me in the middle," he said.
In the mirror, my face looked pale.
Last night, I was curled up in bed, wracked with cramps, and sent him a message.
[Where did you put the painkillers?] I asked.
He never replied.
At three in the morning, Jasmine posted on her social media.
She wrote: [Couldn't sleep from the pain, but luckily, he showed up with meds in the middle of the night.]
Johnny's car keys peeked out from the corner of her photo.
The couple's matching keychain dangled next to the cup.
I put my toothbrush down.
"I'm going to the hospital today," I told him.
Johnny froze for a second, surprised.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"It's a check-up," I replied.
He looked like he'd only then remembered I was in the hospital last month for a stomach bleed.
The doctor said it'd be best if someone came with me for the check-up.
Johnny said he'd go with me and even put a reminder in his phone.