My Friends Always Said I Treated Him Too Well

My friends always told me that I treated Carter too well, and that was exactly why he took me for granted. "If you just gave him the cold shoulder and made him feel a little threatened, let's see if he'd still dare to act like this," they'd say. So, during our latest fight, I didn't back down. A week later, he took the initiative to make peace. A bouquet of flowers, a home-cooked meal, an apology. I thought this was his way of changing. That is, until I accidentally saw the text message she sent him. She said: [Go apologize to Harper. [Be a good boy.] 1 When I stepped out of the shower, Carter was on the phone. He said, "Yeah, don't worry, I know." With that, he hung up. The smile on his face hadn't faded yet, and his mood was noticeably brighter than when he had first shown up at my door. I stopped drying my hair, a sudden knot forming in my chest. It couldn't be helped—when you know someone intimately, all it takes is one sentence to plant the seed of suspicion. There was nothing inherently scandalous about what he said. But his tone was way too obedient. It was like a rabid dog that had just had its fur petted down. It was completely unlike him. So, I couldn't help but ask, "Who was that?" "What?" "Who were you just on the phone with?" Carter's expression cooled slightly. "No one." He added, "You must be hungry! Go dry your hair, I'm going to start cooking." With that, he walked into the kitchen. His phone was left sitting on the coffee table. It sat there like a massive temptation. I couldn't resist. I picked it up. The first thing I checked was the call log. The most recent entry: Mia Brooks. I froze. Mia? Why would it be Mia? "What are you doing?" Carter's voice suddenly cut through the air. I looked up. Our eyes met. His face was dark, his gaze freezing cold. He took a slow step toward me. "What are you trying to find? "Harper, let me ask you, what exactly are you looking for?" He snatched the phone from my hand and shoved the screen in my face. "Checking to see who I was on the phone with? Yeah, exactly, I was talking to Mia. And? Harper, do I have to report every single person I speak to? Do I need to give you a daily quota of my calls and texts?" He straightened up and tossed the phone roughly onto the sofa. His voice was icy. "Go ahead. Search it all you want." Carter was angry. His fury was laced with a thinly veiled disappointment. His intense reaction left me frozen in place. My mind was a chaotic blur for a moment until the heavy silence settled between us, and clarity slowly returned. Why did I check Carter's phone? Because of his gentleness. Because of his obedience. That wasn't Carter's personality. He had always been reckless, arrogant, and cocky, even when talking to me. He didn't do soft words. He didn't do sweet and gentle. My friends never understood it: "How do you put up with him?" I would just smile and say, "Because I know him." I knew exactly what tone of voice he used when he realized he was wrong. I understood what his face looked like when he was implicitly backing down. I never needed him to say the actual words; I understood him perfectly. So, when he softened his attitude for someone else... how could I not get suspicious? Meeting Carter's glare, I picked up his phone again. Over his sharp scoff, I tapped into his text thread with Mia. Their most recent conversation was from 2:00 AM last night. [Mia: Haven't you made up with Harper yet?] [Carter: Yeah.] [Mia: What is wrong with you? Didn't I tell you to go apologize?] [Carter: Stay out of it.] [Mia: Carter, go apologize.] [Carter: You don't get it! Mia, she's not like you.] [Mia: Of course she's not like me. That's why you love her and not me, right?] Carter hadn't replied to that message. After a three-minute silence, Mia sent two more texts. [Mia: Go apologize to Harper.] [Mia: Carter, be a good boy!] 2 My friends always lectured me: "You treat Carter way too well. You can't be like that with men, or they'll push their limits and take you for granted." At first, I brushed it off. I always believed that when two people are together, there's no need to keep score of who gives more and who gives less. As long as the relationship was stable and conflicts were resolved, what did it matter who apologized first? Until a month ago. I had gone to a spa with my coworkers after a long shift. Before going, I texted Carter. He didn't reply. Half an hour later, he kicked open the door to our private massage room. His face was like thunder. He waved his hand aggressively, pointing at the three massage therapists. "Get out! All of you!" Then he glared at me. "Are you leaving or what?" The awkwardness. The sheer humiliation. I wished the floor would swallow me whole. My coworkers were baffled. "Your boyfriend? Why would he disrespect you like that?" Yeah. I didn't understand it either. "I never embarrass you in public, why would you do something like that to me?" I asked him later. He just sneered. "You care about your dignity? Hiring a male masseuse—you're really getting wild these days, Harper!" "I already explained it to you. All the female therapists were booked, so we took whoever was available." "Oh, so they just happened to run out right when it was your turn?" "Yes! They just happened to run out!" "Do I look like an idiot?" My friends tried to comfort me: "He just cares about you. You know how men are—possessive!" But I knew that wasn't it. Over the last six months, the way Carter looked at me had become increasingly critical. A simple sentence or an innocent gesture could trigger his temper. He was lashing out at me more and more frequently. And time after time, I was the one forced to swallow my pride and beg for peace. I was exhausted. Drained. So this time, when we fought, I packed a bag, left the house we had bought for our upcoming wedding, and moved back into my own apartment. What caused the fight this time? Catching a cheater. The wife of Carter's childhood best friend came to me, devastated, saying her husband was out partying at a club every night. She asked me to go with her to confront him. Her mental state was terrible, and I was worried about her, so I went. Her husband was there. My fiancé was there, too. The man who, half an hour earlier, had texted me saying he was working late at the office, was sitting in a VIP booth, accepting a shot of tequila from a woman. I didn't lose my temper. Before I even had the chance to get mad, he exploded. He was absolutely furious. "What the hell are you doing? Harper, do you physically ache if you don't cause drama for one single day? If you want to act crazy, do it by yourself—why are you dragging other people into it?! Do you have any idea how much of a psycho you look like, running around acting paranoid every day?!" Under the dim, amber lights of the club, I stared at him for a long time. I didn't say a single word. I turned around and walked away. Even then, I was still trying to protect his pride. I didn't want to scream and shout in public, right in front of his friends. But I had finally had enough of his baseless rage. It had been a week since I moved out. We had been in a cold war for a solid seven days. He hadn't sent me a single text or made a single phone call. Until today, when he suddenly showed up at my door. Holding a bouquet of flowers, he said, "Stop being mad. It was my fault!" He bought a bunch of groceries to make my favorite dishes, claiming he was cooking tonight. Carter was a great cook. But aside from holidays and big dinners with friends, he rarely ever cooked. Watching his back as he stood at the counter deveining shrimp, my heart—which had been a chaotic mess for a week—finally settled. It was really that simple for me. As long as he bowed his head just once, everything in the past could be wiped clean. We had been together for almost ten years; what was there that we couldn't overcome? But now, you're telling me you didn't come here on your own. You came because someone else told you to. Be a good boy? Since when did Carter Hayes ever listen to anyone? 3 "Last winter, on that crowded downtown street. A red car blocked the lane, and you literally used your truck to ram it out of the way. The car alarms, the crowds screaming, me begging you to stop. I asked you, 'Carter, can you please just listen to me for once?' Do you remember what you said?" "What is your point?" "You said, 'No!'" Carter's face looked dreadful. He had always been like this—a violent temper, explosive at the slightest spark. I was furious with him that day. At first, I tried to pull him back. "Don't do this, I'll call a tow truck. Let someone else handle it." He didn't listen. He just kept inching his truck forward, crushing the bumper. "Carter, that's enough!" He stepped on the gas. A crowd gathered. People were pulling out their phones to record. Someone was calling the cops. I grabbed his arm, my eyes welling with frustrated tears. "Can you please just listen to me, just this once?" He stared straight ahead, completely deadpan. "No!" That was the kind of man he was. Yet Mia typed one sentence: [Carter, be a good boy.] And he immediately bowed his head. 4 I couldn't help but ask, "If Mia hadn't told you to be a good boy, would you have even come looking for me?" Carter took a deep breath, his fists clenching tight. "Harper, stop trying to pick a fight out of nothing!" "So, Mia tells you to obey, and you obey. Is that it?" "Harper, I said that's enough!" "Is it true?" "Yes! So what?!" Carter violently swept the water glass off the table. It shattered against the floor with a loud crash. He glared at me, his eyes burning with a rage that looked like he wanted to swallow me whole. "You just have to make everything sound filthy, don't you? You think Mia and I are screwing around? If we were, why the hell would she tell me to come apologize to you?! If you don't have a brain, keep your mouth shut! You're paranoid and delusional every single day. Sounds to me like you don't even want to get married anymore!" "Then let's not!" "What did you say?" I stood up slowly, my hands trembling violently from the adrenaline rushing through my veins. "I said, the wedding is off. Let's break up!" Carter lunged forward, backing me up until I stumbled. He gritted his teeth, his voice a low, lethal growl. "Say that one more time." "I said..." "Shut up!" Panting heavily, Carter brutally kicked a small footstool out of his way. I flinched, biting the inside of my cheek to suppress the scream threatening to tear out of my throat. Carter pointed a finger at me. "Harper, don't you dare regret this!" He stormed out, slamming the front door so hard the walls shook. The apartment was a wreck. I sank to the floor, burying my face in my hands, and finally broke down sobbing. 5 Between Carter and me, I was the one who chased him. In high school, he was the coolest, most untouchable guy in our grade. I confessed my feelings to him. He tugged at the lanyard holding my student ID. "Harper? Sorry, I don't date losers with bad grades." Because of that one sentence... For a solid year, I studied until I bled, clawing my way into the elite AP classes that had previously seemed impossible for me. I found him again. "Am I allowed to date you now?" He gave a half-smile, lazily spinning a pen between his fingers. "Date? Sure. Let's date." Dating Carter was exhausting. With his toxic temper, he could piss off a saint. At first, I always felt like he didn't actually like me that much. Like I was just the girl who chased him, and he just happened to be bored. During one of our fights, I screamed that exact thought at him. Carter's eyes went completely red. "Out of a graduating class of five hundred kids, why the hell do you think I knew your grades were bad?! Harper, are you an idiot?! Do you honestly think I just say yes to anyone who asks me out?!" Carter's love was buried incredibly deep. You had to dig for it, carefully uncovering it piece by piece. Once upon a time, I used to find joy in that process. But as the years dragged on, the digging just left me exhausted. I thought to myself: Whatever. I'm done. Three days after I told Carter we were over, my friend Riley threw a birthday party and invited me out for dinner. "Is Carter going? Because we broke up. If he's going, I'm staying home." "Why are you guys fighting again?" "It's not a fight. It's over for real this time." "Alright, alright! He said he's busy tonight anyway. You have to come, or I'm genuinely going to be mad at you!" Riley swore up and down that Carter wouldn't be there. But when I walked into the private dining room, not only was Carter there... Mia was there too. Mia was sitting at the very back of the room. Carter was standing up, leaning over to hand her a strawberry smoothie. Mia looked up and gave him a soft, sweet smile. Carter noticed me walking in. He gave me a single, indifferent glance before looking away. I turned around to leave, but Riley grabbed my arm. "Don't cause a scene. I'm the birthday girl, can't you just give me this one night?" The room was filled with friends we had known for years. Walking out and ruining the vibe for everyone wasn't something I wanted to do either. So, I stayed. I sat closest to the door and designated myself the karaoke DJ. Every shot or drink my friends handed me, I downed without hesitation. I noticed their hesitant, awkward glances, but I didn't say a single extra word. Later in the night, for some inexplicable reason, the group started chanting for couples to do cross-armed shots. The two other couples in the room did it while everyone cheered. The only ones left were me and Carter. People started pushing him and pulling me, insisting we couldn't ruin the game. Riley whispered to me, "Come on, just meet halfway and let it go. Look, we built the staircase for you guys to step down from. Just raise your glass, and he'll definitely come over." I froze for a second. Suddenly, I realized that my "breakup" was just being treated as a temper tantrum by everyone around us. They always said: "You two are exhausting. Every time you fight, you act like the world is ending, and we stress out for you. Then the next day, you're back to being inseparable." It was the boy who cried wolf. I had said it so many times, no one believed me anymore. I couldn't help but look across the room at Carter. He was sitting there with his eyes lowered, completely expressionless. Someone tried to physically pull him up, but he shoved their hand away with an annoyed 'tsk', looking incredibly irritated. He turned his head to the side. Mia was sitting right there. I watched Mia tilt her chin up slightly. Reading her lips, I saw her say: "Go." Two seconds of dead silence. Then, Carter picked up his shot glass and stood up abruptly. He walked toward me, staring at me with a heavy, suppressed look in his eyes. He looked like a man being marched to the gallows. I laughed. Suddenly, the whole thing felt incredibly pathetic. I dodged the arm Carter was extending toward me, tilted my head back, and downed the liquor in my glass in one gulp. "You guys have fun. I'm heading out!" Carter's face instantly plummeted into a terrifying scowl. He glared at me with pure venom. I turned around, pushed the door open, and walked out. The exact moment the heavy door clicked shut behind me, I heard the sharp, violent sound of a glass shattering against the floor.

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