She Only Begged Me To Stay After I Had Grown Completely Numb To Her Tears. But By Then, There Was No Going Back.

### She only begged me to stay after I had grown completely numb to her tears. But by then, there was no going back. I sat at the dining table, staring at the untouched meal in front of me. The food was growing colder with every passing minute, much like my heart. Today was my birthday. But it was also Sarah’s childhood friend Daniel’s birthday. I opened Daniel’s Instagram, already knowing what I’d find. Sure enough, there was a brand-new post on his feed: “Grateful for another birthday spent with you. Here’s to celebrating many more together!” The photo was simple: two hands forming a heart over a birthday cake. One of them was Sarah’s. She was wearing the necklace I had given her. I stared at the screen for a moment, then hit the “like” button. Setting my phone down, I swept all the dishes off the table—her favorite foods—and dumped them into the trash. Then I grabbed my keys and headed to a restaurant. This time, I ordered my own favorite meal to celebrate my birthday. From now on, I’ll make sure to enjoy every birthday for myself.

Halfway through dinner, my phone rang. It was Sarah, her voice tinged with urgency. “Matt, you saw Daniel’s Instagram post, didn’t you?” “I saw it.” “I’m spending his birthday with him, but I’ll come back after. Next year, I’ll celebrate with you instead, okay? Don’t get upset over this, alright? Be the bigger person.” In the past, I would’ve lost it—yelling, arguing, making a scene. But now, I didn’t have the energy for it anymore. “Okay,” I said simply. The next morning, around 7:00 AM, I was jolted awake by the sound of my phone ringing. It rang three times before stopping. I glanced at the screen—Sarah. She had this habit of calling me when she didn’t feel like using her key. Three rings, then she’d hang up, knowing I’d rush to the door no matter what I was doing. But not today. I tossed the phone aside, pulled the blanket over my head, and went back to sleep. The spare key was under the shoe rack by the door. She knew that. Last night, I’d been up until 3:00 AM packing. My head was still pounding. The phone rang a few more times, but I couldn’t even muster the energy to look at it. I don’t know how much time passed before I heard the sound of the door opening, followed by a loud thud as it slammed against the wall. Sarah stormed into the bedroom, shoving the door open with enough force to rattle the hinges. “Matt!” she snapped. “Why didn’t you open the door for me? I called you so many times! You know I hate using the key!” I opened my eyes, looked at her blankly, and said, “I was too tired. Didn’t hear it.” Sarah’s mouth opened as if to argue, but she finally just huffed and said, “I’m starving. Get up and make me some oatmeal. I didn’t sleep at all last night, so I need to eat and catch up on sleep.” In the past, I would’ve jumped out of bed and hurried to the kitchen, eager to please her. But now, I just said, “I’m tired too. Go grab something from the café downstairs.” Her face darkened with frustration, but she held it in. “Are you still mad about me not being with you on your birthday yesterday?” “No,” I replied calmly. “You’re overthinking it.” She didn’t believe me and continued, as if trying to justify herself. “Daniel is like a brother to me. His parents passed away when he was young—if I don’t celebrate his birthday with him, who will? Don’t be so petty. You’re better than this.” “You’re right,” I said. “It’s good that you were there for him. I’m not upset.” I got out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. Sarah grabbed my hand, reluctantly pulling something out of her pocket. “Here. Stop being moody. This is your birthday gift. I didn’t forget.” She handed me a cheap red string bracelet with a small metal charm dangling from it. “You’re in your zodiac year,” she said. “I thought this would bring you good luck.” I stared at the bracelet, the flimsy charm swaying as she held it out. It looked so thoughtless, especially compared to the expensive watch Daniel had posted on Instagram yesterday—the one she’d given him. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly to myself. For months, I’d noticed Sarah cutting back on her spending. I’d convinced myself she was saving up for something special for my birthday. Turns out, I was just fooling myself. I glanced at my wrist, where I was already wearing the watch my mom had sent me last week. “Thanks,” I said. “But I already have a watch. I don’t think I’ll wear this. You keep it.” Sarah’s face twisted with anger. “You say you’re not mad, but now you’re being picky? You used to love everything I gave you, no matter how small. Why are you acting like this now?” She wasn’t wrong. Her gifts had always been cheap—trinkets that cost a few bucks, or sometimes nothing at all when she forgot. But I never minded. Every year, though, I went out of my way to make her birthday special. Just last week, I’d given her a gold necklace. Now, I was just too tired. Too drained to argue anymore. I took the bracelet and shoved it into my pocket. “Thanks,” I said flatly. I got dressed and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” Sarah asked, her voice sharp with suspicion. “To play basketball with some friends,” I replied. Since we’d started dating, every spare moment of my life had been hers. I gave up weekends, hobbies, and time with friends to entertain her, shop with her, and take care of her. Not anymore. From now on, I’m living for myself.

After an intense basketball game with my friends, we sat on the sidelines, drinking water and catching our breath. One of them teased, half-jokingly, “Man, we thought you’d forgotten about us ever since you got a girlfriend. We were about to stop inviting you altogether.” I laughed and quickly apologized. “My bad, guys. I promise it won’t happen again. Call me anytime—you’ve got my word.” “That’s more like it! Let’s go hit up the gaming café and play a few rounds.” When I was with Sarah, I could never fully fit into her circle of friends. And because of her, I’d slowly started drifting away from my own. Everything revolved around her. She was the center of my world, and I willingly let it happen. Looking back now, I can’t believe how foolish I was. By the time I got home, it was almost midnight. I opened the bedroom door and found Sarah sitting on the bed, arms crossed, her face clouded with irritation. “Matt, why are you just getting home? I had to order takeout for both lunch and dinner—it was disgusting!” I grabbed some clothes from the closet and shrugged. “I ate out at a restaurant today too. The food was pretty good—not bad at all, actually.” Sarah’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You used to say we should never eat takeout because it’s unhealthy. You promised me you’d cook every day so I wouldn’t have to.” “That was my mistake,” I replied calmly. “Living in this world, if you can’t cook, you’ve got to learn to live with takeout.” An angry spark lit up in her eyes. “You’re still mad, aren’t you? Don’t even try to deny it. You didn’t call or text me all day, and you didn’t come home to cook for me. How is that not being mad?” “I’m not mad,” I said evenly. “I was just out with my friends. My phone died, that’s all.” Sarah threw the blanket off, jumped out of bed, and grabbed my arm as I turned to leave. Her voice rose sharply. “Can you stop being so childish? How many times do I have to tell you—Daniel and I are just like brother and sister! Why are you still making a big deal out of this? I’m running out of patience, Matt!” I pulled my arm free. “I’m not making a big deal out of anything. I’m just tired. I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” With that, I grabbed my clothes and headed to the bathroom for a shower. Sarah shouted after me, but I didn’t bother responding. For the first time in years, I slept peacefully that night. Sarah has terrible sleeping habits; she kicks the blanket off multiple times a night. When we shared a bed, I’d always wake up to cover her back up, never managing to get a full night’s sleep myself. The next morning, Sarah was sitting in the living room with her arms crossed, her face dark and stormy. I knew she was waiting for me to apologize, to coax her out of her mood. In the past, whenever she was upset, I would swallow my pride, beg for her forgiveness, and do whatever it took to make her happy—even if I wasn’t wrong. Then she’d lay out a list of demands, and only once I’d fulfilled every single one would she reluctantly forgive me. That routine had gone on for years. But this time, I was done. I walked past her without a word, got ready for the day, and left the apartment. I had important things to take care of.

At work, I handed in my resignation letter. My manager was shocked and tried to convince me to stay, but I was firm. When I’d taken this job, it was because I wanted to be near Sarah, to take care of her. But that wasn’t necessary anymore. The night before, I’d called my parents over video chat and told them I was planning to move back home. I saw the tears of joy in my mom’s eyes. My dad hasn’t been in good health lately, and running the family’s small convenience store on his own has been taking a toll on him. “Home” isn’t some far-off rural place. It’s a small coastal city—quiet and comfortable. Sarah, on the other hand, is from the South. She loves her spicy food and always refused to move with me, saying she couldn’t handle the change in cuisine. So I’d left my family behind and moved here for her, building my life around hers. Now, that life was crumbling, and I was going back to the one place that had always been constant: home. That evening, I went out to dinner with my friends and told them about my plans. They all agreed I was making the right choice. “Your parents’ health comes first,” one of them said. After a few rounds of drinks, someone finally asked the question I’d been avoiding. “What about Sarah? Is she coming with you?” I was quiet for a moment before answering with a bitter smile. “No. We’ll probably break up.” For years, I’d believed we could build a home together here, and that one day I’d bring my parents to live with us. But now I knew better. That dream was gone. The home I wanted wasn’t here. It was the one with my parents, the one where love wasn’t conditional. When I got back to the apartment, Sarah was sitting on the couch in a white dress, her hair perfectly styled, her makeup flawless. She was holding her phone, smiling brightly as she FaceTimed Daniel. “Sarah, you’re stunning,” I heard him say. “Even in something as simple as a white dress, you look like an angel.” Sarah giggled, covering her face with her hand. “Really? You’re always so sweet with your compliments.” I stood silently in the doorway, watching. That dress wasn’t “simple.” It was the one I’d spent an entire month’s paycheck on, a gift I’d given her. When Sarah turned and saw me standing there, her smile vanished. She turned back to the phone. “I have to go now, Daniel. I’ll see you soon. Don’t forget to eat something before I get there.” She ended the call, gave me a look of pure disdain, then walked past me to put on her shoes. Without a word, she left the apartment. This was her usual pattern—silent treatment, passive-aggressive behavior, all over Daniel. In the past, I would’ve panicked, desperate to win her back. This time, I didn’t feel anything. I quietly unpacked the groceries I’d brought home and made myself a late-night snack. I hadn’t eaten much at dinner, and I was starving. Over the next few days, I focused on wrapping up work and packing my things. Little by little, my presence in the apartment grew smaller, but Sarah didn’t seem to notice.

Today, Sarah went out again to meet up with Daniel. I sat at the dining table, scrolling through my phone as I ate. Daniel had just posted on Instagram: “Every time I feel lonely, you’re always there for me. I’m so lucky. Grateful!” The photo showed Sarah and Daniel, their heads leaning together, both smiling and making peace signs at the camera. Sarah’s friends flooded the comments with likes and gushing messages, praising the “bond” they shared. They’d always said she and Daniel were meant to be together. Childhood friends, practically soulmates—they made it sound like I was the outsider who’d come in and ruined their perfect story. Looking at that post, I realized they weren’t wrong. They did look more like a couple than we ever did. In the past, I used to keep my feelings bottled up for as long as I could before gently reminding Sarah to set some boundaries with Daniel, to avoid giving people the wrong impression. Her friends always mocked me for it, calling me controlling and possessive, accusing me of stifling Sarah and cutting her off from her friends. Sarah never defended me. Instead, she joined in, scolding me for being overbearing and telling me to give her more space. On Daniel’s post, Sarah had left a comment: “You’re always there for me, too!” I closed the app without a second thought, stood up, and started clearing the table. Outside, thunder rumbled. Rain was coming. I went to the balcony to bring in the laundry, and just as I finished, heavy raindrops began pounding against the windows. In the past, a rainy night like this would’ve had me scrambling to call Sarah, asking where she was so I could take an umbrella and pick her up. I couldn’t bear the thought of her getting even a little wet. She and her friends used to laugh at me for it, calling me a “hovering mom,” saying I worried too much and ruined the fun of their nights out. This time, I just took a shower, climbed into bed, and scrolled through some videos until I drifted off. The sound of Sarah slamming my bedroom door woke me up. She stormed in, furious. “Matt, it’s pouring outside, and your girlfriend still isn’t home. Don’t you care at all? If it were my friends’ boyfriends, they’d be calling nonstop, asking where they were, and showing up with umbrellas. But you? Nothing!”

I blinked, surprised by the anger in her voice. I couldn’t understand why she was so upset. I thought back to a similar night, years ago, when it was raining and Sarah was out with Daniel. I’d called her several times, asking where she was and when she’d be home. I even offered to pick her up. She’d snapped at me, saying I was being ridiculous. “Daniel’s here,” she’d said. “He’ll drop me off. Stop worrying so much.” She accused me of being jealous, claiming I just couldn’t stand the idea of her spending time with Daniel. She said my need for control was suffocating her. Now that I was giving her the freedom she’d asked for, she was mad at me for not calling. I couldn’t figure out what she wanted from me anymore. Calmly, I replied, “You’re with Daniel. I don’t have anything to worry about. Stay out as long as you want—he’ll make sure you get home safely.” Sarah’s eyes widened, stunned. Maybe she was surprised by how casually I mentioned Daniel’s name, or by how unconcerned I seemed about them spending so much time together. Her expression shifted, and she quickly offered an explanation. “Today’s the anniversary of Daniel’s mom’s passing,” she said. “He’s been really upset, and as his friend, I couldn’t just leave him alone. You understand, right? Please don’t take it the wrong way.” I nodded, my voice steady. “I understand. It’s a hard day for him. You’re right to stay with him.” My calm response seemed to throw her off. She studied my face, searching for any sign of anger or jealousy, but found none. Her tone softened as she said, “Matt, I bought a new set of pajamas today—black lace. Do you want to see how they look? You can tell me if they’re a good fit.” I glanced at her, caught off guard. This was unusual. Sarah never apologized or extended an olive branch unless I begged her to. She always held the upper hand, making me grovel before she’d agree to forgive me. Now, she was reaching out first, trying to make peace. But I pretended not to notice the meaning behind her words. “There’s no need,” I said flatly. “If you like them, that’s all that matters. Go back to your room and get some sleep.”

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