Michelle said something came up at work and left in the middle of our dinner again. I didn't try to stop her. I just quietly finished my meal alone. Later that night, scrolling through Instagram, I saw a new post from her childhood friend. It was a picture of her hands, sleeves rolled up, serving a plate of food. The caption read: "Stomach bug from hell. Huge thanks to Soph for being my hero and cooking for me. You're my rock, always showing up when I need you." This time, I didn't call and start a fight like I used to. From that day on, whenever she ditched me to take care of him, I’d just smile and tell her it was okay, acting like the most understanding boyfriend in the world. Until the day he sent me a picture of them playing a game, sharing a single Pocky stick between their lips. I saw the photo and felt nothing at all. That’s when she finally panicked. Her eyes turned red, a mix of desperation and hurt welling up as she asked me, "Why aren't you angry?" 1 Michelle had barely touched her steak when her phone rang. "Something came up at work," she said, already grabbing her purse. "I've gotta head back." "Okay. Go on." I cut off a piece of my own steak and chewed slowly. It was tender, juicy. Perfect. Michelle seemed thrown off by my calmness. She frowned. "I'll bring you back a gift." Then she rushed out. I calmly finished the rest of my meal. A small part of me was disappointed. Our last anniversary dinner, and we couldn't even get through it together. When I got home, I saw the Instagram post from her childhood friend, Alex. The photo showed Michelle's hands, sleeves rolled up, placing a dish on a table. The caption: Stomach bug from hell. Huge thanks to Soph for being my hero and cooking for me. You're my rock, always showing up when I need you. I shut off my phone, got into bed, and went to sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, I heard the soft beeping of the keypad lock. I registered that it was Michelle, then drifted back into a haze. Just before I fell completely asleep, I felt a presence beside the bed, someone watching me in the dark. The next morning, I showered, made myself a simple breakfast, and was sitting at the table when Michelle came into the dining room. She glanced at the sandwich and glass of orange juice on the table and fell silent for a moment. "You didn't make me anything?" She hated simple, cold breakfasts. I usually didn't have the energy to make two different meals, so I'd always made her favorite, a proper hot breakfast for us both. "Yeah, I forgot. You can just order something or grab a bite on your way out." I finished my food in a few bites, ready to leave for work. When I looked up, I saw her face had darkened. "I know you're mad that I lied to you yesterday, but you used to get so dramatic, I was afraid to tell you the truth…" "I'm not mad." "Alex's stomach flu was acting up again, and he lives alone. I was worried, so I..." "...I'm really not mad." "Can you please stop this? I told you, I only see Alex as a brother. Why can't you just understand that?" "I'm really, truly not mad, okay?!" My voice rose without me meaning for it to. Seeing the shock on her face, I took a breath and softened my tone. "I get it, I do. But I have to get to work now. We can talk when I get back." Without waiting to see her reaction, I walked out the door. 2 At work, my boss, Ms. Davis, called me into her office to talk about the overseas assignment again. "Larry, this is a fantastic opportunity. The location is great, it's safe, and the career path is exactly what you've been looking for. Please, think it over again." She had tried to convince me for weeks, laying out everything from the salary bump to the long-term benefits. But I’d always hesitated, held back by my relationship with Michelle. But now... I looked up at Ms. Davis, at the hint of 'I-can't-believe-you're-passing-this-up' in her expression. "I've made my decision, Ms. Davis. I'll take it." A wide smile spread across her face, and the relief I felt in not letting her down was like a heavy weight lifting from my own shoulders. After work, I grabbed dinner by myself before heading home. To my surprise, Michelle was already there. Now that was a rare sight. "You're home late," she said, her expression unreadable. She handed me a small box. "Anniversary gift." "Oh," I said, taking it. I felt a flicker of something, but it was closer to embarrassment than guilt. "Thanks. I, uh, I forgot to get you something. I'll make it up to you, okay?" Her face seemed to darken another shade. "Larry, can you please just calm down and listen to me?" "I've told you before, Alex and I grew up together. It's not easy for him, moving to this city all by himself. I promised his parents I'd look out for him." I could feel the anger rolling off her, but I honestly didn't understand why. "Don't get worked up. I know. I understand." "Just say what's on your mind! Stop being like this!" she snapped, her voice rising. "How many times do I have to tell you it's platonic? He's like a brother! What will it take for you to believe me? And think about it, if I really wanted to be with him, why would I be with you?" I tried to soothe her. "Calm down. I'm not mad. I truly believe you're just friends." "You..." She took a few deep, frustrated breaths, her chest rising and falling. "I'm hungry." "Sorry, I already ate on my way home. Why don't you order some takeout? Or there's stuff in the fridge if you want to cook." The only answer I got was the sound of her bedroom door slamming shut. 3 I was almost asleep when Michelle came into the room. She walked in and just stared at me. "It's raining outside." "Huh? Oh. You should probably dry your hair, or maybe just take a hot shower." She was soaked, but I didn't get what she was trying to say. Her voice was thick with disbelief. "I didn't have an umbrella. I was gone for five hours! It's pouring! Aren't you worried about me at all?" "You used to be different," she went on, her voice cracking. "Whenever we fought and I stormed out, you'd call me, or you'd call my friends to see if I was okay." "At the very least, you'd leave a light on in the living room and wait for me to come back." "But tonight, I was gone for five hours, and you didn't even send a single text!" I kept my voice gentle. "I didn't contact you because you're a grown woman. I figured you could handle yourself. Besides, I didn't want to embarrass you by calling around to all your friends, asking where you were." Michelle's face froze. She must have remembered what she’d screamed at me a long time ago. "Are you ever going to stop?! I'm an adult! I know what I'm doing! Do you have to blow up my phone like a lunatic? And why are you harassing my friends? Do you have any idea how much they make fun of me because of you?!" That time, I had spent hours frantically calling everyone I could think of to find her. The moment I finally heard she was safe, the relief that washed over me was immediately shattered not by her gratitude, but by her rage. But I wasn't interested in digging up the past. The hand-off for my new assignment was starting, and I was just… tired. "Look, just go take a shower so you don't catch a cold." I turned and went into the master bedroom. It took a while to fall asleep, my mind churning with work that needed to be done. In that blurry space between waking and sleeping, I thought I felt a hand gently stroke my face, followed by a soft sigh. Then, the mattress dipped beside me. 4 It seemed Michelle was genuinely angry now. She started leaving early and coming home late, avoiding me completely. No texts, no calls. I was more than happy for the peace and quiet. I certainly wasn't going to go looking for trouble. But after five days of the silent treatment, she actually texted me. [I'm making dinner tonight. Come home and eat.] Honestly, I was shocked. For our entire relationship, I had been the one who cooked. I remember once, I'd playfully complained that I was tired and asked if she would cook for a change. She had just hugged me and said, "My cooking skills are so bad, I'd probably put you in the hospital. Besides, I love eating my husband's home-cooked meals every single night." Blinded by love, I never questioned the glaring contradiction in her words. I’d spent countless hours after work teaching myself to cook, following recipes to get the flavors just right for her, collecting a nice set of burns and knife-cuts along the way. I was still living in that sweet fantasy, proud that my girlfriend got to eat my food every day, right up until Alex casually mentioned how great a cook Michelle was. That led to a massive fight. Michelle's reaction was, as always, coldly dismissive. "Alex can't cook, and he's a really picky eater. We can't have him ordering takeout all the time, can we?" "He's not like you, you'll eat anything. I'm just taking care of my big brother." "You're a grown man. Stop expecting people to cook for you all the time." "If you think cooking for me is such a chore, then just stop. It's not like I'm forcing you to." And after that? I think I let her half-hearted apology smooth things over, and I forgave her. What's that saying? Love really does make you a special kind of stupid. But still, I texted back: [Okay.] We were on the verge of breaking up anyway. If possible, I wanted it to be clean. The moment I opened the front door, I heard Michelle's cheerful voice from the kitchen. "Larry! You're home! Go wash up and relax for a minute, dinner's almost ready." I sat down at the dining table, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me. I never thought I'd see the day Michelle willingly stepped into the kitchen. If this had happened on any other day, at any other point in our relationship, I would have been overjoyed. Michelle soon brought out a spread of four dishes and a soup. Though they were all fairly simple, one bite was all it took to confirm that she was, indeed, an excellent cook. "Larry," she began, her voice tinged with a surprising vulnerability, "why have you been ignoring me for so many days?" "Whenever we had a fight before, you'd always come around by the next day at the latest. But this time… it's been five days and you haven't reached out once." "Uh..." I swallowed the food in my mouth. "I was just trying to give you some space." An awkward silence fell between us. After a moment, she spoke again, her tone cautious. "That night… I ended up getting to Alex's so late because of his stomach thing that I hadn't eaten. That's the only reason I cooked for him. I'm going to teach him how to cook, so I won't have to go over there so much anymore." "Oh. Okay, good." I mumbled a reply, afraid she'd blow up again and accuse me of not understanding, then went back to eating in silence. "Hey," she said, her voice softer still. "How about you come with me to this month's get-together?" I was so surprised I looked up. Her eyes were shining with hope. 5 It wasn't that Michelle had never taken me to hang out with her friends before, but we both knew what she meant: the special monthly gathering for her inner circle. It wasn't special because of what they did, but who was there. It was a closed group. No partners allowed. I'd asked her to take me before, but she’d always brushed me off. When she saw I wasn't buying her excuses, she lost her temper. "Larry, can you stop being so damn needy? It's suffocating! I already told you, this is our one night a month where it's just us, a time to unwind. Why do you have to interfere with every little bit of personal space I have?!" I'd flipped a table that day, screaming at her. "Then what about Alex? You took him, didn't you?" Her reply had been ice-cold. "Alex grew up with me. He's met them all before. He's not an outsider." "Besides, he doesn't have any other friends in this city. I only brought him because I didn't want him to be lonely." "Stop being so paranoid. You sound like a psycho." I never thought she'd be the one to invite me. But the hand-off for the overseas post was genuinely hectic. Thinking of my workload, I had to refuse. Besides, I was never really close with her friends anyway. At this point, there was no reason to try and force it. "I've got a lot on my plate at work right now. Maybe some other time." Michelle slammed her chopsticks down on the table. A deep weariness was etched on her face. "Larry, I know you're unhappy about Alex. That's why I've been bending over backwards for you these past few days. But I get tired too. I've humbled myself enough. What more do you want from me?" "You're twenty-eight years old," she said, her voice tight. "Stop throwing tantrums like a child." "You've got it wrong," I said calmly. "Work really is just busy right now." "Whatever," she said, her voice hard as stone. We finished the rest of the meal in total silence.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "430144", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel