The day after my mom’s latest marriage ultimatum, I dumped my boyfriend of five years and, armed with my resume, stormed the park’s matchmaking corner. My best friend was baffled. "I thought you said Alex was your rock? Why wouldn't you marry him?" I scanned the single men’s profiles, not even looking up. "That rock is only steady for the new girl. As his ex, I’m just old news." A second later, Alex caught up to me, his voice tight with anger. "I told you I just see her as a little sister. You're breaking up with me over this?" 1 I ignored him, reaching for the resume in his hand. It was the only "normal" one I’d found after two hours of searching. 32 years old, university professor, no bad habits, stable family, and most importantly: an only child. No little sister in need of constant emotional support. Alex lifted his hand just out of my reach. The silver cufflinks on his wrist were a birthday gift from me last year. "Nora, stop messing around." His jaw was clenched, a clear sign he was reining in his temper. I smiled, pointing to the park's entrance sign. "Mr. Hayes, this is a matchmaking event. It's all about first impressions and efficiency. You're scaring off my future husband." His knuckles turned white as he gripped the thin sheet of paper. "You'd throw away five years for a man you don't even know?" "It's not for him. It's for me." My smile vanished. I looked at him calmly. "Alex, I'm done getting 3 AM calls because Kathy got harassed at a bar again and needs you to come 'rescue' her." "I'm done with you ditching me at a restaurant on our anniversary to go comfort a heartbroken Kathy." "And I'm especially done hearing you say, over and over, that she's just a sister, that she's fragile, that you're all she has." The color drained from Alex’s face. He opened his mouth, his throat working, but no words came out. A few of the older folks nearby had already pulled out their phones, whispering amongst themselves. "Such a handsome young man. What's wrong with him that his girlfriend is leaving?" "Girls these days have such high standards." Alex's fist tightened. He valued his reputation above all else. And I wanted him to taste what it felt like to lose it, right here, where it mattered most to him. "Nora, let's talk about this at home." He grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. I didn't fight him. I just looked past him. A girl in a white dress was running toward us, her eyes red and puffy with tears. "Alex, don't be mad at Nora! It's all my fault! I shouldn't have called you again!" Kathy had arrived. The switch for Alex's "emotional stability" was flipped. He let go of me instantly, turning to steady her. "What's wrong? I told you to wait for me at home." "I was worried you and Nora would fight." Kathy lowered her head, her voice choked with sobs, tears streaming down her face. "It's all my fault." As she spoke, she shot a glance at me from the corner of her eye. There was no apology in it. Only victory. I crossed my arms, a cold spectator to this masterclass in manipulative sisterly affection. Alex didn't disappoint. He patted Kathy's back gently, his voice softer and more tender than I had ever heard it in five years. "It has nothing to do with you. This is between her and me." He didn't even look at me again before turning and leading Kathy away. The resume of the "normal man" was crumpled in his fist and tossed into a nearby trash can. Just like our five years together. 2 My best friend's call came while I was supervising a locksmith. "You're seriously changing the locks? Aren't you afraid Alex's going to lose his mind when he gets back?" "He has a home, and a sister who needs her emotions stabilized. Why would he come back here?" I said into the phone, then to the locksmith, "Change everything—the keypad, the deadbolt, the whole system. I don't want so much as a fly getting in here from now on." The line was silent for a moment. "Nora, are you sure about this? It's been five years..." I watched the locksmith remove the old cylinder, a sense of calm settling over me. Five years? What finally broke me wasn't the length of our relationship. It was a night two weeks ago when my fever hit 102 degrees. I’d gotten food poisoning from some bad takeout. I was completely drained, vomiting, and felt like my brain was boiling. Shaking, I called Alex, my voice trembling. "Alex, I feel awful. I have a fever. Can you please take me to the hospital?" He was quick to agree. "Don't worry, I'll be right there. Leave the door unlocked for me." I used my last ounce of strength to wait for him on the sofa. Just as I was about to pass out, my phone rang. It was Alex. Thinking he had arrived, I answered eagerly, only to be met with his apologetic tone. "Nora, listen... something's come up with Kathy. She was watching a horror movie alone and got terrified. There's a thunderstorm, and she called me, crying so hard she could barely breathe. You know how scared she gets." In that moment, my heart felt like it had been plunged into ice water, freezing over inch by inch. "And?" I heard myself ask, my voice eerily calm and foreign. "I have to go check on her. I can't leave her alone like that." He paused, then said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "You need to be strong. Can you just grab a cab to the ER and check in? I'll come find you as soon as she's settled." Be strong. Those two words were like a poisoned dagger, twisting deep into my heart. I hung up without another word. That night, I took a cab to the hospital alone, waited in line to register alone, and sat in the cold, sterile infusion room alone, watching the IV fluid drip, drip, drip. I was surrounded by patients with family and friends. I was the only one on my own. Alex never showed up. The next morning, a text finally arrived, accompanied by a picture of Kathy, sleeping peacefully. "Hey babe, Kathy was a wreck last night. I stayed with her to calm her down, just got her to sleep. How are you? Still at the hospital?" Staring at the screen, a new kind of clarity washed over me. Five years, and I was the one who always had to "be strong." Kathy, on the other hand, was the fragile one who deserved unconditional comfort and care. My mother's pressure to get married was just the spark. The bomb that obliterated every last fantasy and lingering attachment was that long, cold, six-hour night I spent alone in the hospital. "Nora? Are you still there?" my friend's voice pulled me back. I snapped a picture of the old lock cylinder, posted it online with the caption: Out with the old, in with the new. Then I spoke into the phone. "I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life." I put the phone on speaker and started gathering Alex's things: his toothbrush, his towel, a few changes of clothes, and the cufflinks he was wearing yesterday. I stuffed everything into a black trash bag. Whether he did it on purpose or not didn't matter anymore. What mattered was that I had chosen myself. That was enough. The doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole. Alex was standing there, with a tear-streaked Kathy by his side. I didn't open the door. Alex started punching in the passcode. The electronic lock beeped, "INCORRECT CODE," over and over. His face grew darker with each failed attempt. Finally, he started pounding on the door. "Nora! Open the door! What the hell did you do to the lock?" I started recording a video through the peephole. Kathy pulled at his arm, crying. "Alex, don't do this! She's just angry. Let's go for now." "Go? She threw my stuff out! She's trying to cut me off for good?" Alex kicked the door, the sound echoing through the hall. I calmly walked to the door and spoke through it. "Mr. Hayes, one more kick and I'm sending this video to your company's HR department. I've even thought of a title: Rising Star Throws Public Tantrum. What's the Story?" He froze. Silence. A few seconds later, Kathy's tearful voice came through. "Nora, I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad at Alex. He just cares about you so much. I... I made you some homemade soup. I'll just leave it here for you." Their footsteps faded away. I opened the door. A thermos sat on the mat with a sticky note attached. Nora, five years is a long time. Don't give up so easily. —Kathy Her handwriting was delicate, radiating a sweet, cloying scent of manipulation. I picked up the thermos, walked to the window, and opened it. I aimed for the dumpster below and let go. It soared in a perfect arc. Bullseye. Done. I dusted off my hands and went to take a shower. As the hot water washed over me, my phone buzzed incessantly on the counter. I didn't need to look to know it was Alex. I let it ring. When I came out, toweling my hair, there were over twenty missed calls. The latest message was from Kathy. "Nora, how could you throw out the soup? It took me three hours to make. I know you don't like me, but you can't just trample on my feelings like that. Alex saw, and he's really upset." I stared at the message and laughed. Of course he was upset. I'd just destroyed the evidence he was going to use to prove his "innocence." I didn't reply. I just blocked both of them. And just like that, the world was quiet again. 3 The next day, with an updated personal profile in hand, I returned to the matchmaking corner. Alex had destroyed the professor's resume, so today, I had to find someone even better. A man with gold-rimmed glasses and a gentle demeanor stopped me. "Excuse me, are you Nora Croft?" I nodded. "Hello, my name is Miles Archer. I was the, uh... the university professor whose resume was destroyed yesterday." He gave a slightly embarrassed smile. "After I left, I got your number from Mrs. Gable, the event organizer, but my calls wouldn't go through." I remembered then that in my effort to avoid Alex, I had blocked all unknown numbers. "Oh, I'm sorry about that." "It's alright." Miles's gaze fell to the paper in my hand. "Back for another try?" I waved the sheet. "Looking for an efficient exit from singledom. Serious inquiries only." He laughed. "Funny, so am I." He gestured to a nearby café. "Would you mind talking in there? I have to admit, standing out here is making me a little nervous." I saw the tips of his ears turn red and smiled. "Sure." Miles was fascinating. He taught classical literature and spoke with a calm, measured cadence, but he had a way of saying things that hit my funny bone perfectly. We talked about everything from poetry to the philosophy of life, and it wasn't awkward at all. "I get it, you know," he said with a sigh when we got on the topic of the matchmaking event. "My family's been pushing me too. Coming here myself is just more efficient." He continued with a self-deprecating smile, "The last woman my mother set me up with insisted she was a 'demure, traditional lady.' When we met, she brought her entire extended family to 'interview' me." "We'd barely spoken for two minutes before her aunt asked if I'd be willing to hand over my paycheck, and her cousin asked where I was planning to buy a house in the best school district." "It felt like an interrogation. At the end, the 'demure lady' concluded that I was a nice guy, but my only flaw was that I seemed too quiet, and she was worried I wouldn't be able to 'keep her troublemaker brother in line'." He mimicked their tones perfectly, making me laugh out loud. His story made him feel less like a set of qualifications on paper and more like a real person. We were both just two people, worn down by the bizarre logic of the modern dating world, trying to find a kindred spirit in the most direct way possible. My phone vibrated. I glanced at it. It was a picture message from an unknown number. It was a photo of Alex in a hospital bed, his left arm in a cast, his face pale. Kathy was sitting beside him, dutifully peeling an apple. A picture of domestic harmony. Beneath it was a line of text. "Nora, Alex was distracted looking for you and got into a car accident. The doctor said his arm is broken. Can you please come see him?" My face remained blank as I placed the phone screen-down on the table. Miles noticed the change in my expression. "Is everything alright?" "It's nothing. Just spam." I took a sip of my coffee, hiding the cold fury in my eyes. Alex, you really outdid yourself. You'd resort to faking an injury just to guilt me into coming back. "Miss Croft," Miles said suddenly. "This may be forward of me, but I get the sense that you're under a dark cloud right now." I looked up at him. "I don't know what's happening, but I can see you're not happy." His gaze was sincere. "If there's anything I can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask." A warmth spread through my chest. Unlike Alex's overbearing "I'll fix this for you" attitude, Miles offered respect and equality. "Thank you, Miles," I said, and I meant it. "But don't worry. That cloud is about to disappear." I was going to rip it apart myself. We talked until the café was about to close. Miles walked me to the entrance of my apartment complex. "I had a really wonderful time talking with you today," he said, his figure elongated by the streetlight. "Me too." "So... could we perhaps see each other again tomorrow?" he asked, a hopeful hesitation in his voice. I nodded. "Of course." After saying goodbye, I turned and walked into the complex. Just as I reached my building, a dark figure lunged from the shadows and grabbed my arm. It was Alex. His right hand gripped me tightly, while his left was, indeed, in a cast, held in a sling around his neck. "Nora, you've really grown some claws," he hissed, his eyes bloodshot. "I get in a car crash for you, and you’re out on a date with another man?"
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