Don't Cherish My Love, I Decided To Leave

My forehead smacked into the “Lolly Little Princess Seat” ornament hanging from the rearview mirror, sending a dull throb through my skull. I groaned, trying to steady my breathing. Tommy’s phone buzzed, drawing his attention away from me. His brow furrowed as he read the message, his expression a mixture of irritation and something else—maybe guilt.

"Take a taxi to the hospital," he said abruptly. "I need to take Snaky back to Lolly first." His voice was flat, indifferent.

Just hearing the word “snake” made my face go pale, the fear I felt earlier surging back into my veins like ice water.

Tommy opened the passenger door and nudged me out without another word. "You’re a grown woman, Laura. You’ll be fine. I’ll check on you later. But if Snaky has any issues, Lolly will be upset. You know how she is."

The car engine roared to life and before I could argue or plead, Tommy drove off, leaving me on the side of a deserted road. I stood there, feeling lost and abandoned. The tall grass at my feet rustled and I jumped back, imagining another snake slithering out to strike. My breath quickened, panic bubbling up in my chest. I couldn’t stay here. I had to move.

Ignoring the pain in my sprained foot, I hobbled down the road, limping until I reached a more populated street. The sight of people calmed me a little, but the fear and hurt were still raw. The tight string of composure I had been clinging to snapped. I stood there on the busy sidewalk and let out a sob, then another, until I was crying uncontrollably, my shoulders shaking with the force of my grief.

I was furious—furious at Tommy for abandoning me when I needed him most, for indulging Lolly’s cruel pranks, for choosing her over me again and again. I was angry at myself for staying with him, for sacrificing my career and my happiness. Over the past eight years, resentment and frustration had built up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt.

Once the tears had stopped and I was left feeling empty and hollow, I hailed a taxi and headed to the hospital for a full check-up. The doctor reassured me that the snake wasn’t poisonous, but he could see that the encounter had left me deeply shaken. My ankle, which I had twisted during the earlier fall, was worse off now and he put a plaster cast on it. As he wrapped my foot, I snapped a picture to send to my boss, asking to extend my leave.

I promised him that I would take care of everything, ensuring my injury wouldn’t interfere with my work. His response came quickly: “Don’t put too many shackles on yourself. You’re very good. Take the time you need to heal and take care of yourself.”

Those words—simple, sincere—were the first bit of kindness I’d felt in a long time. They touched something deep inside me, a part of me that had almost forgotten what it felt like to be valued and appreciated.

With a sigh, I typed out a breakup message to Tommy. I was done. No more waiting, no more hoping for change. I needed to move on.

When I got back home, I was surprised to see Tommy there, bustling around the kitchen. He’d set the table with my favorite dishes, the scent of garlic and herbs filling the air. He looked up and smiled, though his eyes flickered to the plaster on my foot before quickly looking away.

"Laura, I made dinner to apologize. Let’s not fight anymore, okay? Let’s go pick up Grandma and have a nice meal together," he said, his tone almost pleading.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I walked past him, heading straight to the bedroom. I pulled my suitcase out from the closet and started throwing my clothes inside. Tommy followed me, confusion crossing his face.

"Laura, what are you doing? I said I was sorry," he insisted, reaching out to touch my arm.

I shrugged him off. "Grandma passed away," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.