My boyfriend of ten years, Aaron Grant, was the picture of a perfect partner. Handsome, smart, and successful—the only problem was that he constantly put me down. When I ranked second instead of first in a competition, he’d say I just wasn’t “smart enough.” When I earned my first commission check for writing, he brushed it off as “pointless work.” But the final straw came at a bridal shop. While I tried on a wedding dress, Aaron criticized my body, saying I didn’t look “bride-like” enough in it. That’s when I snapped, yelling at him for the first time, “If I’m not good enough, then don’t marry me!” In the bridal shop, I stepped out of the fitting room in the dress. Even some strangers nearby gasped in admiration. The sales assistant beamed at me, “Miss Monroe, you’re so tall and slender; this dress looks perfect on you.” “Better show your fiancé; he’ll love it.” I smiled politely, “I wouldn’t be so sure. He’s got high standards.” After all, for over a decade, Aaron had been a perfectionist when it came to me. Never a single compliment. But today, seeing my reflection—my waist looked narrow, my skin glowed, and the dress seemed made for me. I hoped this might be the time he’d say something nice. Maybe he’d find me beautiful, like the other husbands in the store who couldn’t stop smiling at their fiancées. Holding onto that hope, I tugged at his sleeve with a small, nervous smile. But that hope was about to shatter.
Aaron turned, looked me over, and his first words were, “Jess, you’re still too chubby.” The smile froze on my face, and even the sales assistant looked taken aback. “Your face is puffy, arms are thick, big frame, thick waist—this doesn’t look good at all,” he sighed, “Jess, you don’t look like a bride at all.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was just enough for everyone in the shop to hear. Eyes turned my way—some sympathetic, some judgmental, some just entertained. In that moment, I felt like nothing more than an object for Aaron to scrutinize, not a person. Tears threatened to spill, my chest tight with a feeling I couldn’t breathe through. For months, I’d followed Aaron’s orders, working out every day to fit into this dress. I’d barely eaten anything, losing twenty pounds just to look my best on our wedding day. Why did he have to say that? Maybe it was the exhaustion or maybe the disappointment, but suddenly, ten years of endurance snapped. I tore off my veil and shouted, “Aaron, if I’m not good enough for you, then let’s not get married!” “Yes, I don’t look like a bride, so I’m calling off the wedding!” And in his shocked silence, I took a deep breath, finally saying what I’d rehearsed in my head a thousand times: “Aaron, we’re breaking up.”
By the time my best friend, Lily Quinn, came to get me, the tears hadn’t stopped. After I’d posted the news about calling off the wedding, everyone was messaging, asking what had happened. Most people said, “Jess, isn’t there some misunderstanding?” or, “He’s such a great guy; you won’t find anyone better.” Even my mom was on Aaron’s side. “I heard from Aaron; it’s just a small matter. No need to overthink it,” she’d said. Aaron’s message? A flat, “Quit overreacting.” Holding my phone, a wave of helplessness washed over me. No one understood. To everyone else, Aaron was the perfect boyfriend. Good-looking, successful, made good money, and hadn’t cheated on me in ten years. His only fault? He put me down. We’d been childhood friends, growing up side by side. He was one of those “perfect kids” who excelled at everything, way ahead of me in every way. But life had dealt him a tough hand. His mom passed away when he was young, and his father was a workaholic who barely acknowledged him unless he won an award. So, Aaron had matured fast. When the other kids played outside, he was already competing in math tournaments—and winning. That harsh upbringing had shaped him, making him cold. He only showed any real personality with me, often in the form of harsh criticism. If I placed second instead of first, he’d knock on my head and say I wasn’t “smart enough,” pointing out every mistake I made. When I won bronze in a competition and he won gold, he’d look at me with disappointment and call me “dense.” In my teenage years, my mom constantly reminded me, “Look at Aaron; so talented. Always top of the class, winning all these awards.” It’s safe to say I grew up in Aaron’s shadow. I hated how he tore me down and how my mom kept comparing us. But when we were teenagers, everyone called us a “perfect pair.” They insisted Aaron’s teasing was his way of showing he cared. Even when Aaron confessed his feelings, he said, “Jess, if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t push you so hard.” It was the first time he’d spoken to me so gently, his face soft, eyes full of laughter. Everyone cheered us on so loudly, I barely noticed the discomfort in my heart. And just like that, I ended up dating Aaron. It’s been ten years since then.
Lily had been my best friend since college, and the only one to support my decision to break up with Aaron. In college, Aaron had asked me to join him for an early-morning study session at the library one weekend. It wasn’t easy to wake up at 7 a.m. on a weekend, and despite rushing, I was two minutes late. Aaron was waiting, arms crossed, annoyed. “Jess, why can’t you keep time?” “Will you be late for client meetings once you’re working? What if it’s a million-dollar deal on the line?” I automatically apologized, but Lily—fresh from her morning run—pulled me aside. “Getting up early to study on a weekend is already a big deal; Jess is doing great.” “And it was just two minutes. Don’t blow it out of proportion.” From then on, Aaron and Lily didn’t get along. Lily always praised me. She cheered when I ranked second, celebrated when I passed my exams, even admired me for getting up early for class. She’d say, “Don’t listen to Aaron; you’re amazing, Jess!” Those simple affirmations were something I hadn’t heard in over twenty years. That’s why I loved spending time with Lily. Aaron, though, scoffed, “She only praises you to make you arrogant. She’s keeping you from seeing your flaws.” “Humility builds growth. Pointing out your weaknesses like I do? That’s what’s really helpful!” Anytime Lily came up, Aaron’s eyebrows would furrow, his lips would press into a line. That expression always signaled a lecture coming my way. I wanted to defend Lily, but fear paralyzed me, pinning me to the spot. I was so afraid. Afraid of Aaron’s anger, afraid of his criticism. When Lily heard, she sighed softly, “Jess, it’s hard to break free once you’re used to being put down.” “Take it slow.” So, today, when I finally ended things with Aaron, Lily was thrilled. She hugged me, whispering, “Congratulations, Jess. You’re free.”
Lily took me to her place, offering me the spare bedroom to stay for a while. As she led me to the room, her eyes sparkled, “Jess, do you like it? I decorated it just the way you like!” I looked around at the pastel pink wallpaper, the Mickey Mouse desk, and a pigtail-wearing doll on the bed. It was surreal. How long had it been since I’d seen anything like this? Aaron’s minimalist style only allowed black, white, and gray. He’d always rolled his eyes at my love for pink and toys, saying, “Jess, your taste is painfully tacky.” Thinking of it brought tears to my eyes as I hugged Lily, sobbing. If Aaron had been a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from, then Lily was the remedy life had sent to me.
I planned to head to the apartment Aaron and I had shared to pack my things. But when I arrived, Aaron was already there. He was lounging on the sofa, looking up at me lazily, “Done throwing a tantrum?” I steadied my voice, fighting to keep it from shaking. “I’m not throwing a tantrum, Aaron. I meant what I said. I’m here to pack.” Surprisingly, he didn’t argue. He just sat there, legs crossed, hands folded, giving me that strange half-smile. Ignoring the discomfort in my gut, I went to gather my things. In truth, I didn’t own much; just a few personal items. Most things were Aaron’s purchases after we’d moved in. When I’d first brought over my colorful toothbrushes and towels, Aaron had wrinkled his nose. “Jess, your things are gaudy. They look awful.” By the next day, he’d replaced all of them. When I confronted him, he’d shrugged it off, saying, “Your things were too cheap-looking.” That was the first time I’d thought of breaking up. Why should someone else decide what I could or couldn’t like? But my mom advised me, “He’s doing it because he loves you. You’ve been together for so long; it’s not worth breaking up over.” So I gave in. Looking back now, I realize it was a bigger deal than I thought. Anything that makes you feel uncomfortable should never be brushed off.
The only thing I’d miss in that apartment was my small writing corner. Just a desk, a lamp, and a computer, but they’d helped me create so many stories. I’d always loved writing, though Aaron called it “a waste of time,” and I’d set it aside. But in college, with more free time, I began again. I’d even shown Aaron my first piece, hoping he’d be proud. But after reading it quickly, he’d only scoffed, “This is garbage. Just quit.” But I kept writing. And eventually, I even got paid for it. When I earned my first $300, I couldn’t wait to tell him, hoping he’d be proud. What was his reaction? After a glance, he simply said, “Worthless drivel.” He gave me that pitying look, as if humoring a child. “Someone probably just felt sorry for you.” Every word slashed through my excitement, leaving nothing but a raw, festering wound. After that, no matter how much I made, I never mentioned it to Aaron. As I packed up my computer, I noticed it was still on. When I opened it, I realized every file I’d saved was gone. Ten thousand words, painstakingly crafted, my heart poured into each sentence—gone. Only one person would do this… From behind me, Aaron’s voice drifted over. He was leaning against the door, his gaze dark. “Deleted your files for you. That worthless hobby was getting in the way.” “You don’t think you can live off that ‘writing’ and leave me, do you?”
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