Awaiting Love's Spring Blossoms

Mark looked at me with a frown. "Still angry, huh?" He exhaled as if offering the final solution to my ungrateful mood. "Fine, I've already contacted an overseas specialist to treat your mom's stroke. Maybe she'll be well enough to join our wedding." Then, with a surprising touch of condescension, he reached out and patted my head the same way he petted Chloe. "Happy now?"

My stomach turned. His lie was as obvious as revolting and I had no energy to confront it. Instead, I turned away, letting the tears fall in silence.

When I didn't respond, he grew impatient. He shoved me, his tone rough. "Did you hear me? Don't look at me like that! You're lucky I'm even trying to be nice. What good are you if you're just bitter all the time? Nowhere is better than Chloe and you have a foul temper, you deserve to be unpopular wherever you go."

My injured foot hit the edge of the coffee table, reopening the cuts, but he didn't even glance back before slamming the door on his way out.

This was his favorite game, his go-to routine for control as tearing me down with insults, cutting me off financially, freezing me out until I cracked until I was crawling back to him, blaming myself and begging for forgiveness. I'd knelt, apologized and even slapped myself to make him stay in the past. But no more. This time, he'd only come back to an empty apartment.

I packed only what he hated—the things he called ugly, tacky. His couple's mugs, my "cheap" sweaters. Then, I used his credit card to book a room at a nearby hotel.

Later that night, after a shower and a moment of calm, I saw Chloe's new social media post: she was flaunting a huge diamond ring.

Chloe: [Happy Anniversary!] the caption read.

Chloe: [Only the dumbest woman would fail to see how amazing this man is.]

Mark knew Chloe's birthdays, anniversaries—even her cycle. But somehow, he had forgotten that today was my birthday, too. Every year, whenever I would suggest celebrating, he would wave me off.

"Rachel, do you even know what it takes to make money? Why waste it on these things? Do you even want to marry me or not?"

I believed him. I would put my life on hold for eight years, sacrificing everything for him. In the end, he had left me with nothing, not even dignity.

I blocked Chloe. If she wanted him, she could have him. I was finally done.

***

The next morning, I woke to my phone vibrating, Mark’s name lighting up the screen. I ignored it, but his voice echoed in my head. "Where did you go this time? Do you think you are still twenty, running off like this? You are nearly thirty, Rachel! And what's with the blood on the carpet? Do you know that's a custom-imported carpet Chloe picked out herself? It cost over two hundred thousand dollars ……!"

I hung up. He had not noticed that I had packed up my life and had not even asked why I was bleeding. To him, as long as it was related to Chloe and what she liked, it was worth more than me—or my mother's life.

If it was me a day ago, I would have blamed myself for those words and tried to find a way to apologize to Mark. But that version was gone.