On our anniversary, my boyfriend brought his "relationship coach" for a three-person date. I exploded. "What are you thinking?" He shrugged. "Ava helped us. Why shouldn’t she celebrate with us?" "Stop making a scene," he added. "She doesn’t mind." The audacity made me faint. I woke alone on a theater bench. Michael and Ava were huddled over his phone. "Maybe I should go," she fake-whispered. "She’s faking for attention," he said. I texted him: "Three’s a crowd. I’m out." His phone pinged. He didn’t look up. I laughed bitterly and walked away—not knowing someone had been waiting to replace me. 1 I pulled out my phone and called the guy who had been patiently waiting in the wings. "I'm looking to celebrate my anniversary with someone else. Are you free?" There was a two-second pause on the other end, followed by a triumphant shout that nearly blew out my eardrum. "BE—RIGHT—THERE—" After hanging up, the faint sound of laughter from across the lobby made the emotions I'd been suppressing erupt. My heart clenched with a sharp, familiar pain. Michael and I had been together for three years. His secretary, Ava, had been his self-proclaimed "relationship coach" for two of them. Every single important date, every holiday I looked forward to, Michael would find some excuse to bring her along. I had fought, I had cried, but all it ever got me was the silent treatment from him and an even more blatant display of their "friendship." The ridiculous thing was, I couldn't bring myself to let go. But in that moment, waking up on that bench, I suddenly realized how pointless it all was. I was done. I had just sat down at a Starbucks when my phone started buzzing incessantly. It was Michael. Hannah, can you stop being so unreasonable? You're making Ava really upset! You have two minutes to get back here. The same old lines. I was sick of hearing them. I don't want a boyfriend with no boundaries. We're done. After the message sent, I quickly blocked his number and all his social media. A wave of relief washed over me. I ordered my favorite Frappuccino and settled in by the window to enjoy a rare moment of singlehood. I was staring out the window, lost in thought, when Michael's angry voice suddenly boomed in my ear. "Hannah, what is your problem? You're breaking up with me because Ava watched a movie with us?" "You've threatened to break up a hundred times. Aren't you tired of playing these games?" I froze. This mall was huge. How did he find me so fast? Before I could figure it out, Ava's sickly-sweet voice piped up. "Hannah, there's really nothing going on between Michael and me. You don't have to fight with him over me every time. He's so good to you. You have no idea how much I envy you." I couldn't help but roll my eyes, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Right, 'nothing.' You just share every detail of your days, she touches your face, you hold her hand, and you two occasionally share a milkshake. Totally normal friend stuff!" My words shut her up. Her face flushed a deep red as she mumbled, "That's what friends do. It's not a big deal." Michael immediately jumped to her defense. "Ava's right. You're overreacting. You're so petty! You should learn to be more understanding, like Ava." His words reminded me of when we first got together. He had held me and promised that I just needed to be myself, that I never had to change for him. He loved the whole me, not just the good parts. Now, in his eyes, Ava was the good one. I was the bad one. The thought drained all the fight out of me. I turned my head and ignored them both. 2 Seeing my silence, Michael’s patience wore thin. "Fine," he snapped, his face a mask of annoyance. "Sit here and sulk by yourself. See if I care." With that, he took Ava's hand and stormed off. Watching their intertwined fingers, a lump formed in my throat. Michael used to cherish my hand just like that. He knew I had a phobia of crossing busy streets after a childhood car accident, so he would always grip my hand tightly, carefully shielding me as we navigated the traffic. When I fainted from exhaustion after working overtime, he held my hand by my hospital bed, just so he'd be the first to know when I woke up. I was prone to nightmares, so he held my hand every night as we slept, a silent promise that he was there, that I didn't need to be afraid. Then Ava appeared, and his hand slowly let go of mine. It made sense. A hand holding someone else's can't hold yours at the same time. A wave of sadness threatened to overwhelm me. I quickly grabbed my phone and opened a short video app to distract myself. But of course, the damn algorithm recommended one of Ava’s videos. In it, she and Michael were sitting in a dimly lit movie theater. She was happily holding a bucket of popcorn while he stroked her head, smiling and making a peace sign for the camera. The caption read: A special day, a special movie with my favorite person. It was sickeningly sweet and deeply ambiguous. I couldn't resist. I clicked on her profile and scrolled through her videos. Michael was in almost all of them, and he had liked every single one. Was this the same Michael who told me he hated having his picture taken and never liked anyone's posts? The same Michael who refused to ever appear on my social media and had never once liked a single thing I posted. Smack. I slammed my phone down on the table, fury coursing through me. Tears, hot and angry, streamed down my face. As I fumbled in my bag for a tissue, a familiar, exasperated voice sounded from above me. Michael sighed, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. "Why do you do this to yourself? It's not worth getting so worked up over something so small." "Hannah, Ava and I are just good friends. Can't you stop being so hostile towards her? I promise, from now on, I'll ask for your permission before I bring her out." I looked up at him, at the man who had left and now returned, and hid the flicker of sadness in my eyes. "Michael, you made that exact same promise to me three days ago. And this is the 38th time you've made it in the past two years." "You know you can't keep it, so why do you keep lying to me? Do you enjoy watching me get my hopes up just to be disappointed again and again?" I knew this anniversary would be no different. I had specifically told him I wanted it to be just the two of us. He had promised, sworn even, that he wouldn't bring Ava. But he broke his promise. Again. And in that moment, I finally accepted it. In his heart, Ava was more important than me. Caught in his lie, Michael looked uncomfortable. "I swear, this is the last time. From now on, you will always be my priority." Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the message, and his expression turned awkward. "Hannah," he stammered, "I brought Ava out today, so I have to see her home first. Just wait for me here, okay? I'll be back for you soon." And with that, he left me again. I let out a cold laugh. The last shred of hope I had for him, for us, vanished completely. 3 Leaving Starbucks, I headed straight for a jewelry store in the mall. I was going to buy myself the gold necklace I'd been eyeing for months to soothe my wounded heart. I was excitedly trying it on when Ava materialized behind me like a ghost. "Hannah, that necklace is beautiful. It's a little mature for you, though. I think it would suit me better. Too bad it's so expensive. I could never afford it." She stared at the necklace around my neck, her eyes glinting with greed. I rolled my eyes. "Whether it suits me or not is irrelevant. What's important is that I can afford it, and you can't. What's the point of it 'suiting' you if you're broke?" My retort made her eyes well up with tears, her lip trembling in a perfect pout. "Hannah, I know you have Michael to buy you whatever you want. But at least the little I have, I earned myself. What right do you have to look down on me?" I almost laughed out loud. So now Ava was implying I was a kept woman, a sugar baby, while simultaneously painting herself as a hardworking, independent woman. I glanced at Michael. He stood there, silent, making no move to defend me. And in that instant, I understood. This misconception of Ava's had to be his doing. In our three years together, besides exchanging gifts, we had always split our expenses. When he was starting his business, I was the one who covered our living costs, knowing money was tight for him. After he became successful and his assets multiplied, not only did he never thank me for my support, he insisted we go back to splitting everything. And yet, after all that, he was still out there telling people I was living off his money. I was shaking with rage. I handed the necklace to the salesclerk to be boxed up, desperate to get away from these two toxic individuals. I was afraid if I stayed a second longer, I'd literally have an aneurysm. "Wait." My hand, extended to the clerk, froze in mid-air. I turned to look at Michael. "Get a different one," he said, his voice flat. "Ava likes this one. I'm buying it for her." My eyes widened in disbelief. He knew how long I'd wanted this necklace. Just yesterday, he'd told me he was going to buy it for me for our anniversary. I had been excited all night. And now, not only was he not giving it to me, he was taking what I loved and giving it to her. All the hurt and frustration I'd been bottling up exploded. "Why should I let her have it?" I yelled, my voice cracking. "When I was your girlfriend, you favored her. Now that we've broken up, you still favor her! Michael, just because I loved you, does that mean I deserve to be treated like this?" Michael's face was a stony mask. His tone was as cold as ever. "Hannah, it's just a necklace. Don't make such a big deal out of it. Ava rarely likes anything. What's the big deal if I buy it for her this once? I've given you plenty of gifts. Why are you being so petty?" "Be more mature. Don't fight with a young girl over a trinket." Ava stood beside him, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. "Hannah, if you really like it that much, you can have it. I don't want to fight. I don't want to make things difficult for Michael." Watching these two, a tag team of treachery, I ground my teeth in fury. "I'm not giving it to her!" I clutched the necklace box tightly. Michael gave me a long, hard look. Then, he reached out and squeezed my wrist. A sharp, searing pain shot up my arm, making my vision go black. I had no choice but to let go. I leaned against the counter, cradling my throbbing wrist, tears streaming down my face. I have a very low tolerance for pain. A small cut that most people would barely notice could leave me in agony for hours. When Michael first learned this about me, he had been so careful. He padded all the sharp corners in our apartment with foam. He kept comfortable slippers for me in his car, his office, even his backpack, just in case my high heels started to hurt my feet. He even said he never wanted me to go through the pain of childbirth, that we should be child-free forever. Now, all the vulnerabilities he once so tenderly protected had become the blunt instruments he used to stab me in the heart. It hurt. It really, really hurt.
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