Chapter 1
"A backup should know her place," Dylan Carroll said.
His voice floated in from the balcony. He sounded drunk, and there was a playful edge to his tone I'd never heard before.
I froze in the living room, holding the hangover pills I had just found.
"Giselle's back. What are you going to do now?" That was his friend Erick Decker's voice.
"What else can I do?" Dylan chuckled. "Estrella's great. She's family-oriented and obedient, and she doesn't cause a scene. But Giselle is different, you know?"
"I get it." Erick lowered his voice. "You went for Estrella because she resembles Giselle, right? She really has that vibe from afar."
Dylan didn't deny it.
"Yeah, she might look like Giselle, but she's not her," he said.
I stood there, gripping the pills tightly.
So that was the truth.
After two years together, I didn't even deserve to be his serious girlfriend.
I was only a backup, a substitute for Giselle.
The hangover pills were crushed. I washed them down the sink, rinsed my hands, dried them off, and headed to the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
Dylan passed out drunk on the living room couch all night.
The next morning, he woke up rubbing his temples and asked, "Why didn't you wake me up and get me to bed last night?"
I smiled and said, "You were out cold. I couldn't wake you."
He grunted and didn't ask anything more.
I looked at him from the side, and suddenly, he felt like a stranger.
After two years, I thought I knew him inside and out. I knew he loved his Americano, only wore white or light blue shirts, and always wanted a bowl of oatmeal when working late.
But I never realized that, to him, I was only a placeholder.
It was only because I looked like her.
I had actually heard of Giselle Suarez before.
There was an encrypted folder in Dylan's phone gallery, but I never asked about it.
On the back of his bookshelf, there was an old, yellowed copy of The Little Prince. The first page read: [To Dylan, may you always be my little prince—Giselle.]
I asked him who she was once, and he told me she was an old college friend he hadn't spoken to in years.
I believed him.
When he was trying to pursue me, I once saw a photo in his wallet. The girl in the picture had long hair and a sweet smile. I thought she looked kind of like me back then.
Now, I realized I was such an idiot.
It wasn't her who looked like me. It was me who looked like her.
*****
After that, I started paying close attention to everything Dylan did.
He had really changed.
He used to come home right after work, but now he'd always say something had come up at work, and sometimes, he wouldn't get home until 11 p.m.
He used to spend weekends with me, shopping or watching movies, but now he was always "too tired" and wanted to stay home and rest.
He used to leave his phone out in the open, never hiding the screen, but now, he'd even take it with him to the bathroom.
I didn't ask questions, didn't argue, and didn't let him see how I felt.
I quietly started planning my way out.
The first thing was my job.
I worked in admin at a small company. The pay wasn't great, but it was steady.
Dylan would always ask me not to work too hard, saying that he would bear the financial burden.
I used to think he was looking out for me.
Well, I realized that he only wanted me to rely on him more. A woman without financial independence was easier to control and easier to walk away from.
So, I started looking for a new job in secret.
By day, I worked. By night, I studied. After three weeks, I scored an interview at a big company, and the pay was double what I was making now.
On the day of the interview, I took half a day off and told Dylan I had to go to the doctor.
He didn't really ask much. He only said, "Come back early."
I stood outside the office tower in my new business suit and took a deep breath.
The interviewer was a woman in her forties, efficient and neat, asking sharp questions.
"Why do you want to change jobs?" she asked.
"There's no room for growth in my current position," I answered.
"Where do you see yourself in five years?" she asked.
"I hope to be an expert in my field and improve my management skills," I said.
She looked at me for a moment and then suddenly asked, "Does your current company know you're job hunting?"
"No," I answered honestly.
"Why?" she pressed.
I paused for a second and then said, "Because I need to make sure I have an exit strategy first."
She smiled. "That's clever."
A week later, I got the job offer.
The pay was double, plus a year-end bonus and stock options.
I stared at the email, and I suddenly felt everything was almost surreal.
I realized that the first step to leaving him was making sure I stood on my own two feet first.
*****
Next, I had to figure out where to live.
The place Dylan and I had shared was his. His name was the only one on the lease.
So, I started looking for apartments.
The agent showed me five or six places, but they were either too expensive or too far away.
One was right downtown, beautifully renovated, but the rent was 2 thousand dollars a month, way out of my budget.
Another was cheap, but it was in the suburbs, and the commute would take two hours each way.
Just as I was about to give up, the agent mentioned one last option.
It was a cozy one-bedroom apartment not far from my new job, only 1 thousand dollars a month, clean and tidy.
I went to check it out that afternoon. The place was filled with warm sunlight pouring in through the south-facing windows.
The landlord, a woman in her fifties, seemed really friendly.
"Are you living here by yourself?" she asked.
"Yeah, just me," I said.
She gave me a quick look and didn't ask any more questions.
I paid a three-month deposit and got the keys.
As I walked out of the building, a wave of relief hit me.
At least, I finally had somewhere to go.
*****
At last, there was a money issue.
We always split the bills, and after covering my living costs, I managed to save around 1 to 2 thousand each month.
After two years, I'd saved nearly 30 thousand.
It wasn't a fortune, but it was enough to start fresh.
I moved the money to a new bank account, the one only I knew about.
Once it was all set, I felt a huge sense of security.
So this was what it felt like to have an exit plan.
I would no longer have to depend on anyone or worry about being left with nowhere to go after being abandoned.
I finally understood why independent women always seemed so confident.
It was because they could make their own decisions.