Checkup Encounter: My Ex Regretted Losing Me

On my birthday,

I waited from morning until night.

I waited for Quentin, full of anticipation, waiting for the gift that belonged to me.

It was nine in the evening by the time Quentin finally showed up.

“There was something at the hospital. I’m a little late,” he said.

He frowned at the ice cream cake that was already starting to melt.

“You really didn’t have to wait for me.”

I carefully cut into the cake and replied casually, “I’m used to it.”

What kind of birthday is it if you eat the cake alone?

“By the way, where’s my present?”

There was a tremor of hope in my voice. No one knew how loudly my heart was pounding in that moment.

“I was so busy I forgot. Left it at the office.”

A trace of exhaustion crossed Quentin’s face.

“I only remembered when I was almost here, and I couldn’t be bothered to go back for it.”

“I’ll bring it next time.”

He tossed the words out lightly, not noticing at all how stiff my hand had gone as I sliced the cake.

So it wasn’t the gift I wanted.

I’d been overthinking it again.

But no matter what, I wanted to fight for myself one more time.

Even though I’d already rehearsed it six times in my head, I was still nervous when I opened my mouth again.

“Quentin, this is the seventh birthday you’ve spent with me, and I…”

My unfinished confession snagged halfway out of my throat.

Because Quentin’s phone rang.

A woman’s sobbing voice came through the line in broken fragments.

Quentin’s expression grew darker and more serious.

“Stay in the duty room and don’t go out. I’m coming to you right now.”

He grabbed his coat and headed for the door, not even bothering to give me an explanation.

“Quentin!”

I called out, my voice loud and panicked, my face drained of color.

Rosalind. Again.

Even on my birthday, he still wouldn’t compromise for me?

“There’s trouble with a patient’s family. Rosalind’s just a girl; she can’t handle it alone. I have to go.”

A faint crease formed between his brows, a hint of irritation glinting beneath.

“Don’t make a scene.”

In that second, the light in my eyes went out completely.

I murmured, almost to myself, “Quentin, if you walk out that door today, from now on I’ll never bother you again.”

He paused with his back to me.

A few seconds later, he let out a cold laugh and said, “That would be perfect.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

The sound was so loud it felt like it hit my eardrums straight on.

All these years, I’d always imagined that he had at least a little bit of love for me.

But everything that happened tonight finally forced me to see the truth.

When you like someone, you could never bear to see them this upset.

So no, Quentin didn’t like me at all.

Once I understood that, my heart hurt even more.

I collapsed onto the couch and cried until I was completely spent.

I didn’t even know when I fell asleep.

When I finally woke up, it was already morning.

The birthday cake on the table had spoiled and couldn’t be eaten anymore.

I sat there in a daze for a long time before I started cleaning up the mess scattered all over the room.

Balloons, streamers, flowers…

All of it had to go.

And this relationship had to be cleaned up too.

I hadn’t just been talking tough last night.

I was truly exhausted from chasing after him for so long.

I took out everything that had anything to do with Quentin.

It took me several days to sort it all out, pack it up, and throw it in the trash.

Each time I did it, my movements grew more practiced, more efficient.

But in the dead of night, I still ended up crying into my pillow.

For the next two months, I was in bad shape.

I even came down with a few minor illnesses on and off.

If Sheldon Xavier hadn’t pointed it out, I wouldn’t have realized how shockingly pale and worn out I looked.

Fortunately, time heals everything.

Everything passes, eventually.

Until the day I ran into Quentin at the hospital again.