He Chased Me with Desperation

Dragging my exhausted body back home, I took a long, detailed look at this place where I’d lived for the past seven years.

Every corner held memories of Ethan and me—once so beautiful, now stabbing into my heart like a thousand sharp blades.

I found a large cardboard box and, unable to sleep, spent the night erasing those remnants of happiness.

There were slippers with our "cat and dog" love diary design, the matching couple mugs that fit together, the keychains that sensed each other within ten meters and a whole box of photos and portraits. These were once the only proof of our relationship, especially in those times when I felt insecure.

Now, there was no need for any of it.

Ethan didn’t come home for half a month. In that time, apart from finishing my design drafts, I nearly cleared out the entire house. I even disposed of the furniture I’d chosen myself, leaving the place as it was when I first moved in—black and white, so minimalist that you could see the entire room in a single glance.

The night before I left, I thought I should at least say something to Ethan, so I called him. But every time I dialed, he kept rejecting my calls. After a while, he sent me a message.

“If you haven’t realized your mistake and aren’t genuinely ready to apologize to Amanda, then I don’t think there’s any reason for us to speak.”

I smiled bitterly. Well, if that’s the case, then we won’t speak.

Early the next morning, I headed out with my suitcase for my flight.

As I left what was once my warm and cherished home, I felt nothing but overwhelming relief.

Just before boarding, my phone buzzed with countless birthday messages. Some wished me great success, some wished me peace and happiness and some wished me a blessed marriage with a wonderful partner.

After replying to each one, I turned off my phone.

As the plane took off, I thought to myself: I will be happy! With so many blessings, I knew I would be.