Leo and I were the kind of childhood constants people write songs about, clinging to each other like vines growing up the same crumbling wall. The year we were poorest, he danced at a dive bar downtown to pay my way through college. He’d make three thousand a month. Five hundred for our drafty studio, two hundred for himself. The rest was for me. All of it. The day after I graduated, my stepfather decided it was time to cash me in, telling me I had to marry some guy he knew to help fund my stepbrother’s latest dead-end business venture. Leo called every person he knew, borrowed from anyone who would listen, and scraped together enough cash to buy my freedom. He slapped the bills on my stepfather’s table and that was that. From then on, we were it. The only two sources of warmth in that cramped, damp apartment that always smelled of rain. Six months after I got my first real job, I bought a pair of rings. I was going to ask him to marry me. I came home, turned the key in the lock, and walked in on a scene that burned itself onto the back of my eyelids. Leo, shirtless, was bent over, his back muscles tight. He was picking something up off the floor. Something small. Something lace. A stranger’s underwear. And on our bed—our bed—was a naked woman I’d never seen before. Before a single question could tear its way out of my throat, his voice cut through the silence, cold as steel. “Rosie, I’m tired. Just… let me go.” The world stopped for two seconds. Then, I found my voice, a whisper from a stranger’s mouth. “Okay.” I walked over to him, my legs moving on their own. I took the small, velvet-lined box from my pocket. Instead of the rings, I pulled out the cheap kite charm I’d bought for his keychain months ago and pressed it into his palm. “Go on,” I said. “Go find your freedom.” 1 I’d replayed the scene of seeing Leo again a thousand times in my head. Never once did it happen like this. The call came from his phone, but the voice was a nurse from County General. There’s been an accident. A car crash. Are you able to come to the hospital? It was the first I’d heard that he was even back in the city. This sprawling metropolis, where even at three in the morning the streets bleed with the light of a thousand cars, felt impossibly large and suffocatingly small all at once. I got to the hospital, scribbled down his room number, and rushed through the sterile, echoing hallways. It was a private room, but not a spacious one. A woman with a figure made for magazines stood with her back to me, her voice a playful purr. “See, Leo? I was the first one here. Don’t I get points for that?” “Yeah,” he answered. “You’re the best.” That voice. The same gravelly timbre that had once been my entire world. I froze, my hand hovering inches from the door. It had been years. The breakup had felt like being torn in half, a visceral, physical agony. But time, they say, is the great healer. And for the most part, it had worked. Thinking of him no longer sent me into a spiral. But hearing his voice, so suddenly, so unexpectedly… I realized the truth. It wasn't that the love was gone. It was just too heavy, a weight I’d locked away in the deepest part of my chest, hoping to never feel its pull again. I couldn’t go in. Instead, I found a nurse at the main desk, got Leo’s patient ID, and paid for his hospital stay. Leaving the hospital, I pulled my car over to the curb and smoked for what felt like an hour. I was always the good girl, the straight-A student. Smoking was the one and only bad habit I’d inherited from Leo, something I only picked up after he left. The pressure at work had been mounting for years, and so had my nicotine addiction. I finished half a pack, my head swimming. The last drag went down the wrong way, and I collapsed against the steering wheel in a fit of harsh, ragged coughs. Pathetic. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. By all rights, this was the moment I was supposed to stroll back into his life, looking incredible, a picture of effortless success, and hit him with a cool, detached, “Long time no see.” Instead, I hadn’t even laid eyes on him. The mere sound of his voice had sent me running like a coward. Maybe I was just one of those people. The kind who loves nothing more than to offer up her own heart, just to watch someone else stomp on it. 2 Over the next few days, I went back. I never went in, just skulked around, even managed to ask his attending physician about his condition. Leo’s room was always full of life. No matter when I crept by, there was a crowd around his bed—men, women, all of them laughing, talking, a whirlwind of energy. It wasn't a surprise. He’d always been like that, a natural center of gravity. People just orbited him. He was born to be the focus of the room. The last time I cornered his doctor, the poor man was rubbing his temples, clearly exhausted. “Look, the patient in room 214’s injuries are not severe. A minor fracture, a slight concussion. He’s recovering perfectly well. I know you all care about him, but could you please just… elect a spokesperson? I’ve had to give this same update six times today. It’s affecting my ability to speak with other families.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t family. I just mumbled an apology and backed out of his office. And walked straight into Leo, who was taking a slow stroll down the hallway. He had an entourage. One person holding his IV drip, another with a hand on his arm, a third trailing behind. A king holding court. I overheard him grumbling, his voice laced with annoyance. “I’m injured, not an invalid. Can you people let go of me? I can walk on my own.” His words died in his throat the moment he saw me. I wished the hospital corridor wasn’t so wide, so bright, leaving no shadows to hide the panic seizing my body. We stood there for a long, silent moment. Finally, I broke the spell. “Long time no see.” “Leo, who’s this?” one of his friends asked, looking me up and down. Leo’s eyes never left mine. His expression was flat, unreadable. “Someone I grew up with.” “The way she’s staring, I thought she was an ex-girlfriend or something,” the friend chuckled. Someone I grew up with. Twenty-odd years of a shared life. I wore his only winter coat; he wore my only scarf. We’d shared single orders of takeout and slept tangled together in one bed. And now, it was all reduced to that one, sterile phrase. My fingers tightened around my phone. I turned to leave. “Wait,” Leo called out. He asked if I was the one who paid his bill. “I saw the call log on my phone. The hospital called you, right?” he said. “You still use the same bank account? I’ll transfer the money back.” “Don’t,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt. “If anyone’s transferring money, it should be me.” Leo froze. “I was always so shameless about spending your money,” I continued, forcing a casualness I didn't feel. “It’s embarrassing to think about now. Give me your account number. I want to pay you back.” His friend laughed again. “Pay him back after all these years? Where’s the sincerity in that? You gonna add interest?” Leo shot the guy a look so cold it could have frozen fire. “Ignore him,” Leo said to me. “You don’t have to pay me back.” I scratched the back of my head, a nervous habit. “No, I do.” I used to take his money without a second thought. When he bought me things, it felt as natural as breathing. We were family. His money was mine, and one day, mine would be his. But we weren’t family anymore. And when you’re not family, you settle your debts. 3 He never gave me his account number, but I went to my bank and had them print a detailed statement of all the transfers from the college years. The next day, clutching a cashier’s check, I took a deep breath and walked back into the hospital. His room was empty. Stripped bare. A part of me knew he’d never take the money. I just wanted an excuse to see him again. But he wouldn't even grant me that. The moment I reappeared, he vanished. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder what I did that was so wrong. I never screamed at him, never made a scene. What did I do to make him hate me so much, to make him avoid me like I was poison? “You know, what men hate even more than a heartless bitch is a clingy, lovesick martyr,” my friend Chloe said, downing her cocktail at the bar. She tapped my forehead with her finger. “A girl who acts like a piece of gum on their shoe. Annoying to have around, disgusting to scrape off.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m talking about you. The girl with the broken heart-shaped brain.” I clutched my glass, offering a serious rebuttal. “First, my brain is not broken. I’ve never loved anyone but Leo. Second, he’s not a scumbag. He’s… he was a good person.” Chloe rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “Oh my god. I thought years apart would give you some clarity, but you’re exactly the same. It’s hopeless. We should just bury you alive.” I managed a small smile and didn’t argue further. Every single one of my friends had told me I was delusional. And I’d explained to every single one of them that I wasn’t. I knew exactly what I was doing. My brain wasn’t broken. He really, truly had been so good to me. “That’s what they all say,” Chloe sighed. “But look at what he did, Rosie. He cheated on you. In the apartment you shared. With another woman. Then he ghosted you. You waited outside that bar for a week straight trying to get him to talk to you, and he never even showed his face.” “You don’t understand,” I said, my voice thick. “Without Leo, I wouldn’t have gone to college. I might not even be alive.” I drained half my beer in one go. My tolerance had grown over the years, but tonight, I was mixing everything, and it was hitting me hard. I slumped against the bar, grabbing Chloe’s arm and pointing a shaky finger at the dancers on the small stage. “My tuition, my books, my food for four years… Leo earned it all, one night at a time, just like that.” “He was making three grand a month back then. Five hundred for rent, two for himself. The rest of it? All on me.” “He got into college too, you know. A state school. But my parents wouldn’t pay for me. So Leo said his school wasn’t that great anyway. He said he’d drop out, get a job, and support me.” “And when I graduated, and my stepfather tried to marry me off for money, Leo borrowed from everyone he knew to come up with the cash to get him off my back.” I was rambling, the words tumbling out. “So you see? In a way, he already paid for me. I was supposed to be his wife. I was always going to marry him.” The music was still pounding, but Chloe had gone quiet, her head resting on her arms beside me. I fell silent for a long time. “So maybe… maybe it was only fair that he wanted to leave,” I whispered to no one. “I was a burden. I was weighing him down for so, so long.” 4 Chloe was completely passed out. I finished the last of my beer and paid the tab. As I stood up, my eyes drifted toward the entrance of the bar, and my heart slammed against my ribs. Leo. He was wearing a simple black hoodie, the hood pulled up, and a mask over his face, but I’d have recognized him anywhere. He didn’t see me. He walked straight to a crowded booth where someone immediately made space for him in the center. I watched him pull down the mask and accept a beer from a friend. A young woman leaned in close, smiling, saying something in his ear. Leo nodded absently, taking a sip of his drink. I was never the jealous type. Not with him. I was so sure of us, so certain that nothing and no one could ever come between us. I knew how magnetic he was, but I had a deep, unshakeable faith in his loyalty to me. When did that change? When did he stop loving me? I remember after he said he wanted to leave, he never came back to the apartment. I went to the bar where he worked. I called every one of his friends. I even showed up at their houses, begging them to tell me where he’d gone. I sent him endless messages. I wanted to know what went wrong, if we could just talk about it. I promised I would change, whatever it was. I told him I didn’t mind if he wanted to mess around with other girls, just please, don’t be angry with me. Eventually, the desperation turned to pure fear. I told him he didn’t have to respond, just send me one single text so I’d know he was safe. Nothing. Finally, at three in the morning, I sat on the cold concrete steps outside the bar, my whole body numb, my fingers stiff as I typed out one last message. [I agree to the breakup. Just come home. We need to figure out the apartment.] Ten minutes later, he appeared. He had been there the whole time. Standing just out of sight, watching me. Coldly. In that single moment, he became a stranger. The apartment was in his name. He said he was leaving town, that he’d prepaid three months’ rent. I could stay or talk to the landlord about breaking the lease. He left so cleanly. Just a black backpack with his wallet and his ID. Nothing else. He didn’t want anything else. I walked him downstairs, still wearing the matching set of pajamas we’d bought together at a flea market. I handed him the small kite charm. My voice was steady, but my smile was brittle. “For your freedom.” Leo. Now that you have it, this freedom you wanted so badly… are you happy? 5 Knowing Leo might be at that bar, I started going every few nights. I knew, deep down, that there was no going back for us. That was Leo. Once he made a decision, he never looked back. But I never saw him again. I couldn’t be sure if he was avoiding me, though it wouldn’t have been a surprise. Nobody enjoys being haunted by an ex they’ve grown tired of. I took to sitting at the bar, and after a while, I got to know the bartender. He’d have a drink ready for me as soon as I sat down. Tonight, I’d barely been there for two minutes when there was a loud thump beside me. I turned to see a scantily clad woman slam a delivery box onto the counter. “Vodka, straight up,” she snapped at the bartender. “Who pissed you off this time, princess?” he asked casually. “Who do you think? It’s the gift I bought for Leo. I reminded him a hundred times it was at his building’s mailroom, and it’s probably growing mold by now. He never went to get it.” She stomped her foot. “And it was expensive! I wouldn’t even buy a watch that nice for myself!” My heart skipped a beat. I discreetly glanced at the shipping label on the box. The address was there. Detailed. Down to the apartment number. The bartender slid her a sweet-tasting liqueur instead of the vodka. “I seem to recall Leo saying he doesn’t accept gifts.” “He just hasn’t gotten the right gift yet,” the woman pouted, resting her chin in her hand. “Ugh, when am I ever going to conquer that man?” “You and every other woman in a five-mile radius,” the bartender chuckled. “All I can say is, good luck.” I leaned over, feigning curiosity. “Who are you guys talking about?” The bartender grinned. “Just a really handsome guy.” “How handsome?” “Extremely.” The woman shot him a warning glare, and he clammed up. I gave an awkward laugh, paid my bill, and left. The second I was outside, I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address from the box. My heart was hammering against my ribs. My palms were sweating. I’m just going to pay him back, I told myself. That’s all. This is the last time. The absolute last time I let myself be this weak. Thirty minutes later, I was ringing the doorbell to Leo’s apartment. I heard footsteps approaching. I took a deep breath, forcing my lips into what I hoped was a natural smile. The door opened. A woman with beautiful eyes stood there, wearing an apron and holding a wooden spoon, a sweet smile on her face. She looked at me, confused. “Can I help you?” “Sorry, I think I have the wrong—” The words caught in my throat. I couldn’t say another syllable. Because over her shoulder, I saw the bedroom door open. And I saw Leo walk out, shirtless, his hair messy from sleep. 6 It’s strange. I’d seen him with another woman before, the day he left me. But this… this hurt more. Maybe it was the overwhelming sense of domesticity. The apron, the spoon, the comfortable way he walked through the space. It felt like they had been together for a long, long time. It hit me with the force of a physical blow: Leo had someone else now. Not just a fling, but a life. They probably shared everything, the way we used to—a glass of water, a bed, the rising and setting of the sun. My presence here was nothing but an intrusion. If I truly loved him, if I really wanted what was best for him, I would do the graceful thing. I’d hand over the check, offer a polite smile, and disappear from his life for good. But when I tried to speak, my voice was gone. I swallowed hard, finally managing to hold out the check. “Hi. I’m… an old friend of Leo’s. From back home. He lent me some money a long time ago, and I came to pay him back.” The woman looked over her shoulder at Leo. He stood frozen for a moment, his gaze finally landing on me. After two silent seconds, he said, “You want to come in?” I shouldn’t have. I really shouldn’t have. But Leo was already getting a glass for me, pulling out a chair at the small dining table. The woman opened her mouth, then closed it, her brow furrowed. “Leo, honey, you should put a shirt on. You don’t want your cold to get worse.” He ignored her, his eyes fixed on me. I kept my head down, feeling trapped, and finally stepped inside. “Sorry to bother you.” I tried my best not to look around, terrified of what I might see, what other small details would twist the knife in my chest. But some things were unavoidable. Leo came back from the bedroom wearing a long-sleeved shirt, the air around him heavy and tense. This was how he always got when he was sick. I could tell from the tight line of his mouth that he was probably running a low fever. My fingers twitched. I curled them into a fist. The woman brought a bowl of chicken noodle soup from the kitchen. She carefully fished out the pieces of celery, then placed a hard-boiled egg on a small plate next to it. She separated the white from the yolk, placing the white on the plate and mashing the yolk into the soup with a spoon. “Here you go, Leo. Try some?” He hated celery. And he never ate the egg whites, because he knew I loved them. A sharp, stinging pain flared behind my eyes. I had to look away before the tears came. How could he be so cruel? Was this intentional? Did he want me to sit here and watch this performance of his new life, his new happiness? Leo didn’t touch the soup. He just asked me, his tone casual, like we were distant acquaintances catching up, “So, how have you been?” I looked at the woman sitting beside him, her eyes burning holes into me. I knew that if I showed even a flicker of my true feelings for Leo, a fight would erupt. I had nothing left to give him. The least I could do was not cause him any more trouble. Thinking this, I squeezed my fists tighter in my lap. The bite of my nails into my palms was sharp, but it grounded me. When I looked up, I had managed to plaster on a natural, almost shy smile. “I’ve been good,” I said. “Actually, I’m getting married soon.” Leo’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, I could see my own reflection in their dark depths. A long time ago, I was the only thing reflected there. I took a slow, steadying breath. “You two should come to the wedding.” He would never come. It was a safe lie. The hostility on the woman’s face finally melted away, her attention shifting back to Leo. “Come on, honey, eat before it gets cold.” I took a polite sip of the water in my glass, then stood up. “I should get going.” Leo stood up too. “I’ll walk you out.” “Leo, you’re still sick. I can see her out,” the woman offered. He paid her no mind, just followed me to the door, walking a little too close, close enough that I could smell the clean, simple scent of his soap. The door clicked shut behind me. I didn’t look back, just walked straight toward the elevator. Leo’s footsteps were steady behind me, the same rhythm as always. My hand, hanging by my side, twitched with the sudden, desperate urge for a cigarette. “Getting married is a good thing. You should have done it a long time ago,” he said, his voice raspy from his cold. “Is he good to you?” I was afraid my voice would break, so I just managed a small, tight, “Mmm.” “What about you?” I found my voice, forcing a smile as I turned to him. “You two seem really happy. Wedding bells in your future, too?” The elevator doors chimed open. I rushed inside, jabbing at the ‘close door’ button, not wanting to hear his answer. Only when the doors were completely sealed did I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. And I whispered to the empty space, “Goodbye.” This time, for real. No more seeing you again. 7 I walked home that night. It took almost three hours. I cried the entire way. When I finally got to my apartment, my throat was raw. I drank a whole pitcher of water, and then, without taking off my makeup or even changing my clothes, I crawled into bed and wrapped myself in the comforter like a cocoon. Sleep was a restless, shallow thing, and my mind drifted back through the years. Leo’s father was a construction worker. His stepmother was cruel, often refusing to feed him. I’d save a bowl from my dinner and sneak it to him. When I got my first period, it was Leo who went to the store to buy me pads. During puberty, when my stepfather started lingering outside the bathroom door when I showered, Leo would come over on the pretense of doing homework and wouldn't leave until I was safely out. When the first KFC opened in our small town, Leo ate instant noodles for a week to save up enough money to take me. In high school, knitting was popular. I stayed up for three nights straight to make him a black and white scarf. He wore it every winter, right up until the day he left it behind in our little apartment. We went to college in the same city, but my classes were demanding and his job was on the opposite side of town. Money was tight, so we couldn’t see each other often. We made up for it with dozens of phone calls a day. Besides his payday, he would send me money sporadically, telling me it was extra tips from customers. My roommates found it strange that I had a boyfriend who worked in a bar. They saw me as the quiet, studious type, a world away from the nightlife scene. They hinted that a guy like that, getting tips from strangers, was probably seeing other people. But my trust in him was absolute. Blind. I never once doubted him. To save up for his birthday, I secretly took on a tutoring job. After months of saving, I bought him a ridiculously expensive down jacket. Most of the gifts I gave him were things to keep him warm. I think it was because we were so poor growing up; the winters always felt the harshest. It was hard then. So hard. But knowing I had him behind me, it never felt like suffering. It’s just a shame we can never go back. At 4 a.m., I gave up on sleep and got out of bed. I’d bought this condo last year. I put down a deposit and poured all my energy into renovating it, making every detail exactly how I wanted it. I pulled out an empty storage box and started collecting things. The mug I’d bought for him. Into the box. The set of chopsticks and bowls. Into the box. The towel and toothbrush. Into the box. The clothes I’d bought on a whim because I thought they would look good on him. Into the box. Soon, the box was overflowing. I dragged it into the storage closet. There were already two other boxes in there, filled with the remnants of our life in that tiny apartment. “You’re pathetic,” I said to myself. “But this is it. This is the last time you get to be this pathetic.” 8 I stopped going to the bar. I stopped opening the storage closet. I started deliberately avoiding the entire neighborhood where Leo lived. For Chloe’s birthday, I brought a bottle of wine to her party. The moment I walked in, she pulled me aside conspiratorially. “What do you think of that one?” She jutted her chin toward the living room. I scanned the crowd. There was only one man I didn’t recognize, wearing rimless glasses, with a gentle, academic air about him. I nodded with a smile. “He’s handsome.” “And he’s single,” Chloe said, grinning. “Interested?” I shook my head, smiling. Fearing she would press the issue, I looked her in the eye. “Seriously, Chloe. I’m just not in that headspace right now. I promise, the day I decide I’m ready to date, you’ll be the first person I call.” She sighed, defeated. Later in the evening, after a few more glasses of wine, Chloe put her arm around my shoulders. “You know,” she said softly, “when you and Leo broke up, a part of all of us was relieved. You had such a bright future, this whole amazing life ahead of you. It would have been a shame to see you settle for something… ordinary.” She paused, swirling the wine in her glass. “But seeing you now… I don’t know. It’s complicated.” I took another sip of my own wine. “I’ve seen you happy, Rosie,” she continued. “It’s not that you’re unhappy now, but… there’s a part of you that’s missing. It’s a damn shame.” I smiled. “What’s there to be ashamed of?” “After seeing Leo again… did you ever think about getting back together with him?”
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