Chapter 6
Ewing and I slipped back into our old routine–living side by side, barely acknowledging each other’s existence.
Work became my whole world. I threw myself into it, focused and diligent, and to my surprise, my manager promoted me to partner.
And as luck would have it, the promotion landed right on my birthday. Two good things at once–I decided we should go all out and rent a place to celebrate.
Just after I picked the venue, my phone buzzed.
Sometime when I wasn’t looking, Ewing had added me back: “My mom flew home this morning.”
“Thanks for the gift you prepared.”
I hesitated, then replied, “Of course. I’ve just been swamped lately, didn’t get a chance to see your parents. Apologize to them for me, will you?”
A little while later, he called. “It’s your birthday. I picked up your favorite food. Maybe you and Joy can come back for dinner?”
“No need. My coworkers are throwing me a party.”
“Would it be alright if I came, too?” His voice was tentative, careful.
I didn’t hesitate: “That’s not really convenient. No one’s bringing family tonight.“”
Every time he had a get–together, I used to tag along, reluctant to let him out of my sight.
Eventually, Ewing frowned and told me, “If I don’t invite you, just don’t come, okay? Some things between guys–women aren’t supposed to know.”
I shot back, “Then why does Magnolia get to come?“}
scoffed. “She’s one of us–a muse, everyone’s goddess. Not exactly the same thing, is it?”
But this birthday dinner turned out to be an eye–opener.
The drinks flowed, things got rowdy. One of my teammates clapped me on the shoulder and said, “Irene, you know what we always say about you? You’re great at everything, but you’re kind of untouchable. Like you’re not really part of this world.”
I blinked, confused.
A woman beside me explained, “You always go straight home after work, never join us for dinner. But when there’s trouble, you go out of your way to help. We just thought you were cold and distant–not the warm, thoughtful person you really are.”
I laughed.
I used to rush home out of fear that Ewing would be lonely, waiting for me.
Now?8
Why bother pretending I mattered so much?
He had his circle of friends, and I could have my own tribe, too.
After dinner, the group whisked me off to a high–end spa–showers, massages, karaoke.
Ewing called several times. Eventually, I set my phone to “Do Not Disturb.“)]
i remembered how I’d once worried about him drinking too much, getting mugged or hit by a car. He’d laughed it off, saying he had plenty of friends to watch his back and I was overreacting.
We finished up around eleven.
Ewing was waiting in the lobby, thanks to a tip from a coworker.)
“Didn’t drink too much, did you?” he asked, seeing my flushed cheeks, reaching out to steady me.
“I’m fine–just a little wine.” I always turned red, even with fruit cider.
He’d driver over and insisted I not take the subway.
On the way home, his voice was soft. “So this is what it feels like, waiting for someone.”
I gave a short, dismissive laugh
Pretended I didn’t hear.
At my apartment building, he asked, “Can I come up for a bit?” testing the waters.
I frowned, playing up the tipsy act. “No need. The place is tiny–barely enough room for me and Joy”
“If I’m not around, you could ask Magnolia if she’s found a job yet. Maybe let her stay for a couple of days.”
Ewing looked embarrassed.
But this time, be didn’t get angry.
His eyes seemed to waver. “You’ve had too much to drink.“@
I gave a cold laugh. “Alcohol lets you tell the truth.”
But something changed in him after that.
I never imagined I’d get a second act after being the hopeless romantic in our story
When my lease ran out, I had no choice but to move back in 2
Suddenly, he was attentive.
He started cooking for me, waited for me to come home, even started skipping his weekend meetups with the guys >
I felt flattered, but mostly ill at ease.
Chapter 6
I told him there was no need.S
With my promotion, my hours were unpredictable–even weekends were fair game for overtime.
He just said, “That’s fine. Just send me a message.”
He even started leaming to make nourishing soups.
The day he set down a steaming bowl of chicken and fish maw soup in front of me, I was stunned–it tasted just as good as anything from a restaurant.
So what if he almost blew up the kitchen last time??
Was it that he’d been too busy video chatting with Magnolia, or had he just never cared enough to try??
I had to admit–Ewing was finally making an effort.
But for some reason, I couldn’t taste happiness anymore.&
It wasn’t just taste–every sense felt off.
I used to love our nights together, used to lose sleep over his every mood, used to walk on eggshells for his affection.
Now, looking at his face, he seemed like a stranger &
Even when he strutted around in nothing but briefs, I felt nothing. No spark, not even the trace of attraction.&
In fact, every move he made started to repulse me.
It was that deep, stomach–turning disgust
Turns out, sometimes you don’t even realize you’ve stopped loving someone. But your body knows.
Ewing lingered in my room, looking pitiful.
I didn’t feel sorry for him; honestly, I was scared.
Out of a last shred of decency, I didn’t kick him out of bed.
But I left the lights on and worked late.
Around midnight, Magnolia called, but hung up after one ring.
Suddenly, I felt a strange sense of relief–like I couldn’t stand being in that room another second.ꞌ
By four in the morning, I was curled up on the sofa.
Then came the sound of breaking glass–Ewing smashing a bottle in the other room.
I quickly dressed, grabbed my phone, and started searching for a hotel.
Even though there were no single rooms left, I paid five hundred for a double.
When I shut the hotel door behind me, it felt like the weight of the world lifted and the night sky sparkled.
Funny, isn’t it?
Slamming a door doesn’t mean you really want to leave.2
It’s quietly closing it behind you that means you’re never coming back.
Author Trophies
Win Big!