The moment I realized Adam didn’t love me anymore—or at least, not the way he used to—I started picking fights. I became difficult, needy, constantly testing the boundaries of his patience. I looked for reasons to spark an argument, desperate for some kind of friction, some proof that he still cared enough to push back. But we’d barely trade two sentences before he’d shut down, treating me like white noise. Staring at his cool, indifferent profile, I would slam the door and storm out into the cold. I never went far. I’d tell myself: "If he comes after me in the next ten seconds, I’ll forgive him." Ten seconds would stretch into ten minutes. "If he comes looking for me now, I’ll go home with him." I ended up freezing on a New York sidewalk for four hours. No open door. No text. No missed call. Eventually, I walked back on my own. The apartment was loud, bursting with life. Adam had thrown an impromptu get-together for his friends. A gorgeous woman leaned against him on the sofa, laughing as she held a glass of wine to his lips. The confrontation I’d prepared on my walk back dissolved, popping like the silent, fragile bubbles in a glass of champagne. He looked up, saw my wind-bitten, flushed face, and offered a careless shrug. "Done throwing your tantrum?" I swallowed the lump in my throat and answered softly, "Yeah. I'm done." … There was a palpable exhaustion in Adam’s eyes. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, the smoke curling between us. "Then stop picking fights over every little thing." We had argued four times in the span of three days. "I waited in line for thirty minutes after work to get you that cake, and you complained it was the wrong flavor. You refused to eat it and made a scene." "Last night, I missed your call because I was at a business dinner. You locked the bedroom door and wouldn’t let me in." "This morning, I asked what you wanted for lunch, and you stayed silent. The moment the food arrived, you threw a fit and said you weren’t hungry." "And now, because I invited some friends over, you lose your temper and threaten to walk out." He reached out, his warm hand pressing against my freezing cheek. "Amelia, if you’re not tired of this, I am." "If you’re going to storm out next time, at least remember to bring a coat." "When you’re done cooling off and realize you have nowhere else to go, you know where the door is. Just let yourself in." If this had been a few hours ago, I would have cried. I would have screamed, fighting tooth and nail against his version of the truth. But now, I just pressed a hand to my aching chest and forced a smile. "Okay." From the living room, one of his friends watched me walk away and nudged him. "Aren't you going to go after her? You used to drop to your knees if she so much as frowned." Adam glanced casually at his watch. "Back then, chasing her meant playing the puppy dog. It took days of begging just to get her to smile." "Now? I leave her alone, let her think it through, and she’s back in four hours." He let out a low, easy laugh. "Looking back, I wasted a lot of energy. Honestly, I regret it." "Regret." The word echoed in my mind. During those four hours in the biting cold, I had counted so many ten-second intervals. I kept worrying he was looking for me and we’d somehow missed each other, so I paced the block. I held my phone high above my head, desperately searching for a signal, ignoring the strange looks from passersby. A little boy playing nearby looked up at me, curious. "Is the signal bad, or is my phone broken?" I muttered to myself. "Why isn't anything coming through?" The boy bounced on his heels, eager to help. "Let me see!" I handed him the screen, which was open to my chat with Adam. "Whoa, lady, you sent this guy a ton of messages." "He barely wrote back. Are you waiting for him?" He tapped the screen with the solemn gravity of an expert. "Your phone isn't broken, lady." "Nobody's texting you." "You're kind of silly." Just then, the screen lit up. My heart leaped, and I snatched it back. It was a push notification from an app. The phone was fine. Adam just hadn't reached out. Our chat history ended the night before. Every message I’d sent had gone unanswered. I went from asking what time he’d be home, to wondering if he’d even seen my texts, to a hollow, aching sadness. "Are you that busy? Just text me when you’re done, okay?" And finally, after three of my calls were forwarded straight to voicemail, I had descended into a frantic panic. "You’re seeing these. Why aren’t you replying?" "Did I say something wrong? Why are you ignoring me?" But my unraveling—my tears, my desperation—had met a wall of absolute silence. Just like today. While I was shivering on a street corner waiting for him, he had already filled the house with people to keep him company. My presence, my absence, my voice—none of it made a dent in Adam’s world anymore. The speech he’d made, listing all my faults, had been recorded by someone in the room and uploaded online. The caption read: "How do high-maintenance girls like this get such amazing boyfriends? Why can't I find a guy like him?" By the time I saw it, the internet had already unleashed a tidal wave of vitriol. "If I worked a ten-hour day only to come home to a princess like that, I’d kick her to the curb." "Bro, take my advice. If she plays these games, dump her. A guy with your looks and money can do way better. She’ll come crawling back." "He spoiled her too much. If you ignore them, they fall right back in line. That’s how I handle my girl." "Where does she get off? Let’s go humble this spoiled brat in the comments." Even Adam’s friends joined the fray, commenting that my real-life behavior was actually worse than what was shown in the video. The harassment intensified. The clip spread like wildfire, eventually reaching my coworkers and even trickling down to my family. It turned out the video had been posted by Victoria—the girl who had been feeding Adam wine. When I confronted him, Adam was scrolling through the comments, utterly unbothered. "I talked to Victoria. She said she was just mad on my behalf. She wanted some outside perspective, she didn't think it would go viral." "The guys were just sticking up for me, too." "I'll tell her to take it down. Let's not make a big deal out of it." "I mean, the video isn't wrong about what happened. You got a few mean comments online, but it didn't actually affect your real life. Just let it go." Before the video was even taken down, a notification popped up on my feed. "Adam liked this video." Seeing me stare at his screen, he quickly unliked it, his expression casual. "Slip of the thumb." I didn't say whether I believed him, but his brow furrowed in immediate annoyance. "Are you going to start another fight?" "I'm exhausted, Amelia. I don't have the energy for this." "Just go cool down. You tend to figure things out faster when you’re left alone." I did figure things out. I stripped away every habit Adam found "difficult." I stopped asking if he loved me. I stopped getting upset over his late nights. I stopped checking in on him. Adam called it "finally growing up." Since I no longer watched his every move, he started coming home later and later. One night, Victoria brought him home. She fluttered around our living room, pouring him water, gently massaging his temples to ease his hangover. Then, as if suddenly remembering my presence, she offered a sweet, apologetic smile. "Oh, I should go. I’m sure Amelia wants to take care of you, Adam." She said the words, but she didn’t move an inch. Adam reached out and caught her hand. "Victoria. My head hurts." She looked torn, glancing between us. "Adam doesn't want me to leave." I leaned against the doorframe, watching them like a spectator at a mediocre play. "Then stay." The jacket Adam had tossed onto the sofa still carried the heavy trail of Victoria's perfume. It took me back to the night our fights first started. Same jacket. Same scent. I had sat on the sofa waiting for him until three in the morning. "You were MIA all day because you were with Victoria?" "Yeah," he’d said carelessly, loosening his tie as he headed for the bathroom. "She just got back to the city. A bunch of us got together to welcome her." He didn't look at me. I had followed him, feeling like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. "Adam, did you forget what you promised me? You said you wouldn’t see her." He shot me a look of deep, barely concealed irritation. "Are we really doing this again? How long ago did she confess to me? It’s ancient history." "Can you stop being so incredibly insecure?" "Do me a favor and focus on something productive." He brushed my hand off the bathroom door and closed it in my face. Shutting me out. Dividing our lives into two separate worlds. I wasn't blind to the changes. He’d park the car in the garage and sit in it for an hour before coming upstairs. We couldn't exchange three sentences before he’d sigh, tell me he was tired, and turn his back to me. I used to wonder if he was going through something difficult at work. But eventually, I realized he was just bored of me. Bored, impatient, and completely checked out. I had panicked. The more terrified I became of losing him, the more sensitive I grew. The tighter I tried to hold on, the faster he slipped away. After that night he came home smelling like her, our home became a battlefield of constant arguments. But Adam only grew colder. He started putting on his headphones the moment I opened my mouth, or he’d simply walk out of the room. Once, I chased him down and ripped the headphones off his ears, tears streaming down my face. "Adam, do you think I want to fight with you?" "I don't feel a single shred of affection from you anymore! I just want an explanation. I want you to hold me, to reassure me. Is that really so hard?" I had pleaded, shedding my dignity. "What happened to us? Did I do something wrong? Can we please just talk?" Adam didn't say a word. He snatched his headphones back, put them over his ears, and said: "Do whatever you want." The sound of Victoria's soft laughter from the guest room snapped me back to the present. I forced myself to look away. I stopped myself from reaching out to him. I ate alone. I slept alone. I lived alone. I was slowly adapting to the silence, but I never expected my grandmother to intervene. Apparently, she had tried to get in touch with Adam several times, but he had ignored her calls. When I arrived at his office building, my grandmother was in the lobby, apologizing to Adam on my behalf. She looked so small, offering quiet pleas while Adam sat there, accepting her humility as if it were his birthright. "If only Amelia were as reasonable as you, Nana," he said smoothly. There was no chair for my grandmother. She stood before him, looking anxious and ashamed. "Adam, I saw that video online and wanted to talk to you," she said gently. "But I couldn't reach you, so I came here today. I’ll say my piece and go. I don't want to be a bother." "I'm so sorry. Amelia was wrong, and I want to apologize for her." "Please, don't hold a grudge against my girl." One of Adam’s friends laughed from the sofa. "With all due respect, ma'am, a simple apology doesn't just erase the headache she's caused him." A hot spike of anger flared behind my eyes. I rushed into the room, grabbing my grandmother's arm to lead her away. "Sweetheart," she whispered, patting my hand. "We have to talk things out nicely." My throat felt like it was coated in sand. I couldn't hold it back anymore. "The cake you waited thirty minutes for?" I spat, staring directly at Adam. "You sat in the car while your assistant bought it. It was mango flavor. I am highly allergic to mango. How was I supposed to eat it?" "And you say I locked you out? What about the hours I spent texting you while you ignored me? You had time to hit 'decline' on my calls, but you couldn't spare a second to tell me when you'd be home." "You claim I never told you what I wanted for lunch. I booked a reservation a day in advance and sent you the details. You agreed to it, and then you forgot. The food you ordered had ingredients I can't eat." "And your friends? The 'friend' you brought over is the girl who confessed to you. The girl I caught kissing you, whom you promised never to see again." "Adam, I’m done trying to sort through this mess. It’s pointless." "But how dare you stand here and let my grandmother apologize to you? How dare you humiliate her?" My voice cracked on the final shout. Adam sat up a little straighter, his posture stiffening. Before he could answer, the door swung open and Victoria walked in. She swept past me without a glance, heading straight for Adam. "Adam, I loved that restaurant you took me to tonight. Let’s go there again tomorrow!" So, the man we couldn't reach had been spending his evening with her. I felt nothing—just a dull, numb acceptance. But my grandmother’s breathing grew shallow as she put the pieces together. "So you're the one sneaking around, and you're the other woman trying to ruin a relationship. Yet you turn around and paint my granddaughter as the villain." Her hands shook with rage. "Where is your decency? Were you raised with any morals at all?" Victoria's face twisted in an instant. "What did you just call me, you crazy old woman?" She shoved my grandmother. On the hard marble floor, the sound of her fall was sickeningly loud. Victoria gasped, stepping back toward Adam. She grabbed his arm, her voice instantly dropping into a trembling whine. "Adam, I didn't mean to. She fell on her own." The world faded into static. I couldn't hear their voices anymore. All I could hear was my grandmother groaning in pain on the floor. I fell to my knees beside her, terrified to touch her, my hands shaking so violently I dropped my phone three times trying to dial 911. The paramedics arrived quickly. But as they tried to wheel the stretcher out, Victoria blocked the doorway, clinging to Adam's arm. "Adam, they insulted me first. Are you just going to let them leave like this?" She whispered fiercely, "Everyone is watching. My friends are here. Am I just supposed to take this humiliation?" "She’s your girlfriend. You have to make this right." Adam remained silent for a long moment, then looked down at me. "Amelia, apologize to Victoria." "Apologize, and you can go." I looked up at him, my temples throbbing, my teeth clenched so hard they ached. "Get the hell out of my way," I rasped. "Let the paramedics through." Victoria stepped forward. "Who do you think you're talking to?" Adam pulled her behind him. His lips curved into a cold, humorless smile. "Amelia, I thought you'd finally grown up." "Since a simple apology is too much for you, how about a formal bow?" He sat back down, crossing his legs, his eyes icy. "I have all night. We can stay here as long as it takes." He glanced toward the stretcher. "But I don't know if your grandmother has that kind of time." For a second, my mind went entirely blank. All those fights, all those tears—I had only wanted to know if he still cared. And now, the truth I had been too terrified to admit stared me in the face. He didn't love me. It was over. I wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. My grandmother was pale with pain, her eyes squeezed shut. I stood up from the floor, wiping the tears from my face. And then, I bent my spine. Victoria scoffed. "That’s barely an effort." I lowered myself further, bowing deeply to both of them. "I'm sorry." A single tear fell, splashing onto the polished floor. With it, the final remnants of the love we had built since high school shattered into dust. Fortunately, my grandmother was strong for her age. It was only a hairline fracture. She squeezed my hand from her hospital bed. "I'm so sorry, Amelia. I only made things worse for you." "I saw you in that video... you looked like you were about to cry. It broke my heart." "I knew how much you loved him. I just wanted things to be okay between you two." I buried my face in her palm, my tears soaking her skin. Adam and I "had" been happy once. I remembered high school, when he would take a detour across the entire city just to walk me home after evening study sessions. I remembered our trip abroad when we got pickpocketed. With only fifty dollars left to our name, Adam went hungry, insisting I use the money to get a warm meal. I remembered the night we graduated college, when he slipped a ring onto my finger and promised I could be as difficult as I wanted for the rest of my life, because he would always be there to hold me. Adam used to hate the smell of smoke. He never touched a cigarette around me. Once, after our worst fight, I had gone on a business trip to another city. He drove through the night to find me, pulling me into his arms and whispering that no matter where I went, he would always chase after me. He had loved me then. Truly. My grandmother stroked my hair. "Let’s go home, sweetheart. Just you and me. Okay?" I stopped crying and nodded quickly. "Yes. Let's go home." Adam showed up at the hospital later, but it wasn't to check on my grandmother. The tables had turned. Someone had filmed the incident in the lobby and posted it online. The public hadn't forgotten about the "dramatic girlfriend" from the previous viral video. Seeing the sudden plot twist, the internet turned its wrath on Adam and Victoria. Adam looked exhausted, his expression tight. "I already had the video taken down." "Victoria posted a statement explaining we’re just friends." "But people are still harassing her in the comments and DMing her horrible things." "I need you to post a clarification. Just say your grandmother tripped and fell on her own, and that Victoria had nothing to do with it." "And clarify that you know Victoria and I are just friends. There's nothing going on." "After all, your grandmother was the one who insulted her first." Right then, his phone rang. It was Victoria. Her voice, thick with tears, came through the speaker. "Adam, did she agree to post it yet?" "People are being so mean to me. I’m so scared. Can you please come back and stay with me?" Adam looked up at me. "You hear her?" "Victoria is in a really bad place right now. Let’s keep our issues between us and leave innocent people out of it." I let out a soft, mocking laugh. "I thought you said getting dragged online was no big deal? It’s just some strangers on the internet, right?" Adam raised a hand, cutting me off. "Don't start with the dramatic act again. You walked away fine, didn't you?" "Amelia, don't be suffocating. We have real problems to deal with, and you're still obsessing over your petty jealousy." Disgusted, he reached out to grab my phone to write it himself. I stepped back, keeping the screen out of his reach. "No need. I'll post it." Adam froze, slowly dropping his hand. His phone kept buzzing in his palm—Victoria was losing her patience. In his contact list, my name had been moved to the bottom, marked with a mute icon. Since I had agreed to his demands, he didn't care to linger. After he left, I helped my grandmother discharge from the hospital. On our way home, the taxi drove past the apartment Adam and I used to share. The familiar building flashed by, quickly swallowed by the city skyline. I unlocked my phone, drafted the post, and hit upload. Within ten minutes, my phone began to vibrate violently. Texts flooded in from friends, acquaintances, and people I hadn't spoken to in years. And then came Adam. The man who hadn't initiated a conversation with me in weeks sent a barrage of texts. The final notification was a voice note, his tone dripping with barely controlled fury: "Amelia, what the hell did you just post?" "What is your problem?"
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