Seven years into our relationship, I went from being his pinned contact to having my messages muted. He would only reply to me once a day, at six in the evening, sharp. Our conversations, once filled with "I miss you," "What did you eat?" and "What did you do today?" had dwindled to a single, daily question: "Are you coming home for dinner?" He once joked to a friend that our relationship was like that of "family members who sleep back-to-back." No spark, but unbreakable. I broke up with him at ten in the morning. By the time he finally saw the message, I was already on a train heading south. Noah’s voice was laced with disbelief. "Mia, is this because of Clara? She’s just a colleague. You have to believe me." "If you're angry, you can hit me, yell at me, whatever you want. If you want to get married, we can go to the courthouse right now." My voice was flat. "Noah, seven years is a long time. Long enough for you to run out of time to tell me you don't love me that much anymore." 1 “Why’d you lie to your girl and say you were working late? What’s the big deal about grabbing a drink with the guys?” “You know what they say about the seven-year itch, right? You’re not thinking of trading up, are you?” The high-pitched voice drifted from the slightly ajar private room. It was Leo, Noah's best friend and business partner. "What are you talking about? We've been together since college. Even if there's no… we're already family." "I want to marry her," Noah's voice was quiet, but if you listened closely, you could hear the exhaustion lacing his words. "But it feels like something's missing." I looked down at the stomach medicine in my hand and silently slipped it back into my bag. Noah had a sensitive stomach. In the years we’d been together, I’d gone from a kitchen novice to a master of medicinal cuisine. Even when he worked late and didn't come home, I'd call to make sure he ate. After years of this, his stomach problems had become rare. But lately, his project had been intense, and he’d been coming home later and later. I was about to call him when I absentmindedly opened my social media and saw Leo's latest post. It was a blurry photo. The private room was dimly lit, a few bottles of expensive liquor on the table. A tall, well-dressed man sat on the couch. The tie around his neck was the one I had knotted for him that morning. Now it hung loose and undone. He had shed the serious, professional demeanor he wore at the office, replaced by a rare, languid weariness. Beside him was Clara, the head of the company Noah was collaborating with. She was young, beautiful, and had a warm, outgoing personality. She had fallen for Noah at first sight. But Noah had always been polite and distant with her. Standing outside, I watched them. The way Noah looked at her… it seemed to have changed. I stepped back into the shadows and turned to leave. 2 “Noah, let’s break up.” I had spent the entire night composing the message, editing it hundreds of times before finally hitting send. I looked around the apartment we had lived in for over two years. From the decor to every piece of furniture, I had arranged it all myself. Leaving now, a part of me was reluctant. Especially the room next to the master bedroom, which housed my most treasured collection of figurines. Ever since we got together, Noah always found a reason. A day when the sky was particularly blue, or the sun was especially bright. Seeing someone on the street who looked just like me. A sudden downpour that reminded him of the day we first met… And, of course, he never missed a birthday, holiday, or anniversary. All of them were excuses to buy me a gift. Even during the years when we were struggling, I never felt like I was missing out. Later, when his business took off and we had more money, the collection grew. So much so that when we moved, we dedicated an entire room just for my “little guys.” Now, a whole wall of display cases was filled to the brim. I knew the exact spot for every single one. The "Mia's Haven" plaque on the door was also handmade by Noah. "From now on, they are my family," I had declared, my hands on my hips, pointing proudly at the wall of figurines. "If you ever bully me, I'll come and tell on you to them." He had immediately pretended to be scared, raising his hands in surrender. "I promise to be at your beck and call, my queen!" But his eyes were laughing, his voice full of adoration. Noah and I rarely fought. I could only remember one real argument. I had stormed out, furious, and stayed away for a whole day. Noah had searched for me like a man possessed. When he found me, he held me so tight I could barely breathe. "Mia, if I ever make you angry again, you can hit me, you can yell at me, just please don't let me not be able to find you, okay?" His voice was thick with a fear he couldn't hide. My heart ached. I knew I had really scared him this time. My anger softened. I muttered, "Can't you just not make me angry?" He immediately apologized, his voice choked with emotion. After that, whenever I was in a bad mood, I would hide in "Mia's Haven." He would find me right away. He'd hold me carefully, whispering cheesy pickup lines he'd learned from somewhere until he made me laugh. Noah was a truly wonderful boyfriend. So, over time, even the bad moods became rare. And this unspoken understanding between us was slowly forgotten. And so it was that last night, from dusk till dawn, I didn't go to my haven to complain, and he forgot to come home. 3 I bought a one-way train ticket south, with no specific destination in mind. I wanted to clear my head and see the country along the way. As I was leaving with my things, Noah walked in. He was surprised to see me with a suitcase. "Are you... going on a business trip?" "I quit my job." I smiled. "I'm going to do some traveling." "You quit?" He froze for a second, then walked over, his voice laced with concern. "What happened? Did someone give you a hard time?" I hesitated, unsure how to begin. He was the only boyfriend I’d ever had. I didn’t know how to break up with someone gracefully. We had been together for seven years. Even if the ending wasn't perfect, a single text message felt... insufficient. "Noah, we need to talk." I glanced at the time. 10:20 AM. I had two hours before my train left. There were some things I needed to say to him in person. "Now?" He looked at his watch, a conflicted expression on his face. "Mia, I have a flight in a bit. I have to be out of town for two days. Can we talk when I get back?" "But I have something important..." "The project is almost finished." He cut me off, his gentle tone forcing me to back down. "As soon as things are wrapped up there, I'll come find you. We can travel together then, how does that sound?" I swallowed the words I wanted to say and nodded. "Have you bought your ticket? Where are you going? What time is your train?" He handed me something. "I won this in a blind box at dinner. Brought it back for you." "Southlake. I'm leaving soon." I took the blind box and set it aside without a second glance. "Aren't you going to open it?" He sensed my lack of interest, his brow furrowing. Usually, I would have torn it open immediately, jumping up and down with excitement and giving him a huge hug. "Dinner? Weren't you working late?" I asked, changing the subject. "...Went out for a few drinks with Leo and the guys. It got late, so I didn't come back." The guys. That could certainly include Clara. Of course. Noah was never one to hide things. His honesty was disarming. In recent years, it wasn't just his career that had been smooth sailing. I nodded. He took out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. His gaze fell on me, and he frowned. "It's windy in Southlake today. You should change." Ah... so he was checking the weather for me. "It's fine. I brought a jacket." I pointed to my suitcase. "You should still change. You're on your period. You can't catch a cold," he insisted. I pressed my lips together. Seven years of affection couldn't be faked. I knew this concern, beyond just habit, was genuine. A familiar ache tightened my throat. I once believed I would spend the rest of my life with this man. I never thought we would end up here. "Can I see your phone?" The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. But a tiny, dark flicker of hope ignited within me. Noah was taken aback for a second, then he smiled. "What? Checking up on me?" He ruffled my hair with one hand and handed me his phone with the other. The gesture was completely natural. I opened his messenger. My text was buried under a mountain of work-related messages. The time was 10:18 AM. It wasn't six in the evening yet. He hadn't had a chance to see it. My chat window had a bright red notification, clearly unread. Even without opening it, the preview of my breakup message was visible. If he had paid even the slightest attention, he would have seen it. The most recent notification, at the very top, was from Clara. A single "smiley face" emoji. Marked as read. The irony was like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. It extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. 4 "What's wrong? Did our little detective find anything?" He must have noticed me staring at the phone. He looked over, his tone playful. I forced a smile, trying to hide my emotions. The flicker of hope I’d felt now seemed absurd and pathetic. "Nothing." My lips trembled, unable to hold the smile. "I'm going to go change." I went back to the bedroom. In the full-length mirror, I saw the faint scar on my lower abdomen. Even though it had been so long, it still seemed to ache. For some reason, I remembered what Leo had said in the private room. The "seven-year itch." I had heard that phrase once before, two months ago. It was the day my project wrapped up. I had just finished all my work when a sharp, stabbing pain shot through my abdomen. It came on so suddenly and intensely that I broke out in a cold sweat. On the way to the hospital, I called Noah. A mechanical voice repeated, over and over: "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable." Noah had just started a new project and was often out late. He was probably busy. I didn't think much of it. At the hospital, the tests showed acute appendicitis. I needed surgery immediately. I called Noah again. I couldn't help it. I was terrified of pain, and he had spoiled me. I wanted him there with me. But the phone just rang and rang. Hmph, after this surgery, I'm going to make Noah pay! I thought, plotting a hundred and eight ways to get back at him before I was wheeled into the operating room. The surgery was quick. After a series of follow-up tests, I was moved to a regular ward. The whole time, my phone was silent. Noah was clearly still busy. "Still busy?" I texted him the moment I got my phone back. I didn't want to worry him, so I didn't mention I was in the hospital. But my message, like all the others, went unanswered.
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