I Stopped Waiting, He Lost Everything

I had just hung up the phone when Chester walked out of the bathroom, freshly showered.

He grabbed the hair dryer without looking at me and asked casually：

“What were you saying just now? Something about a transfer?”

I looked him in the eye and steeled myself to speak：

“Chester, I……”

The roar of the hair dryer cut through the air, swallowing my words whole.

It was always like this.

In his world, there was only ever Lily and himself.

He couldn't spare me even the few seconds it took to hear me out.

When the noise finally died, he spoke in that lazy, unhurried tone of his：

“Izzy, I have to work overtime tonight.”

“I booked you a spot at a craft café. Go hang out there for a while, and I'll pick you up later.”

I stared at him in disbelief, biting my lip.

“I flew three thousand miles to be with you, and you're telling me you have to work?”

His brow creased, impatience bleeding into every syllable：

“It's just tonight. I'll spend the whole day with you tomorrow. What's the rush?”

Ice spread through my chest.

What's the rush?

I'd gotten off the plane, transferred through three connecting trains, forced myself to stay awake every mile of the way,

poured everything I had into making this rare reunion happen,

and all I got in return was a dismissive what's the rush.

A bitter laugh slipped out of me. “I want to go home.”

His expression darkened instantly, his voice turning cold：

“Isabel, what are you trying to pull now?”

“You show up without a word of warning and want to leave before the day's even over. Do you think I'm not exhausted too?”

My eyes burned as I fired back：

“Exhausted from what, Chester? You spent the entire day with Lily and I didn't hear you complaining then.”

His face changed. He locked his gaze on me, hard and unblinking.

“Isabel. You went through my phone.”

I held his stare.

“I didn't need to. I saw you with her this afternoon when I got here.”

“You were laughing like I haven't seen you laugh in years. Tell me, did my showing up ruin your little world with Lily?”

He hurled his towel to the floor.

“Enough. She and I are coworkers. That's it.”

“Coworkers grab a meal together. It's normal. Can you stop being so paranoid?”

Watching him lose his composure, a sour ache spread through me.

So this was what he looked like when he actually cared about someone.

“Coworkers grab a meal, and that explains the hour-long phone calls every single night?”

“Chester, every photo I sent you of flowers, of sunsets, you never even opened them. Not once.”

“But the second Lily mentions a new shop nearby, you've already mapped out the route and scouted the best angles for her photos.”

“That's just coworkers?”

Maybe my pain was too obvious to ignore, because something flickered in Chester's eyes, something close to regret.

He stepped forward and lifted his hand, reaching for me.

For one split second it felt like the beginning again, back when he wasn't like this with me.

But the scent of unfamiliar perfume drifted from his collar, and I turned my face away.

“Let's break up, Chester.”

His whole body went rigid. He stared at me, frozen.

Then a knock came from the other side of the door, followed by a sugary female voice.

“Chester! Weren't we supposed to go to the concert venue? Where are you?”

So that was his overtime.

The moment he heard her voice, Chester transformed into a different person entirely.

He went straight to the door and opened it for Lily.

She tumbled into his arms the second it swung open, clinging to him with a whine：

“This is your fault for not picking up my video call! I had to walk here in the dark and it was so scary!”

“Was it that clingy ex-girlfriend of yours bothering you again?”

Only then did she look up and see me. Panic flashed across her face, and she scrambled to backpedal：

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I was just joking around with Chester. We're always messing with each other like that……”

Before I could say a word, Chester stepped forward and pulled Lily behind him, shielding her.

“She's my subordinate. We're close, so we joke around. She didn't mean anything by it.”

“She already apologized. Are you really going to stand there glaring and drag this out?”

Close. Used to it.

How laughable.

We'd been together five years. Three of them long-distance.

Every time I tried to be playful with him, to be affectionate, all I ever got was impatience and distance：

“Izzy, you're a grown woman. Stop being so childish.”

So how close did someone have to be before he'd call it a habit?

I didn't know. And I didn't want to know anymore.

I looked at the two of them, standing together, shielding each other, and my voice came out cold：

“Then keep at it. I'm done.”