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My godfather fiancé, Daniel, had a habit of breaking up with me. Every time we fought and he threw out those words, I'd be the one to crawl back and smooth things over. Until this time—when I found a round-trip ticket to New York on his phone. The person living there was his ex-wife. I demanded an explanation. He just looked at me with that impatient expression of his. "She's in a bad mood. I'm going there on business anyway, so I'll check in on her while I'm at it." "If you can't even give me that much trust, then let's just break up." I stared at the ticket, then back at Daniel. And suddenly, it was like every ounce of energy had been drained from my body. "Fine. Let's break up." I was tired. Truly tired. I didn't want to coax him back anymore. … Daniel paused. He clearly hadn't expected me to agree. He glanced up, studying me with that careless look of his, then lowered his gaze again. His pen moved in a crisp stroke across the document—his signature, clean and final. "Suit yourself," he said coldly. He didn't take what I said seriously. Not even a little. He still thought I'd be like before. That all he had to do was spare me one look, and I'd come running back, begging him to take me again. I set his phone on the desk and walked out of the study. Standing at the door, I closed my eyes. My chest ached so badly I could barely breathe. I should have known. He didn't care about me. I was always last on his list. Daniel didn't come to bed that night. I knew he was waiting for me to go to him first, to apologize. But this time, it wasn't my fault. I wasn't going to give in. The next morning, I came downstairs with my suitcase. Daniel was on the phone. "Sure, I'll come see you the day after tomorrow." He turned and saw me, muttered something quick to the other end, and hung up. I knew who it was. His ex-wife. He was afraid I'd overhear and start another fight. Daniel's gaze dropped to the suitcase, then lifted to my face. "Where are you going?" "Moving out," I said. "Moving out?" A mocking edge crept into his voice. "When are you coming back?" He didn't believe I'd actually go through with it. I heard the displeasure in his tone. I ignored it. "I'm not coming back," I said flatly. Daniel stared at me, all impatience. "Evelyn, if you keep this up, don't blame me for actually breaking up with you." "It's just a quick stop on the way. I'm not going to do anything. Is it really worth getting this upset over?" I lifted my head and looked at him for a long time. "Yes." It wasn't just one ticket. It was a ticket every month since the divorce. His booking app was packed with round-trip flights to New York. Every single one of them—to see his ex-wife. Jessica. I wasn't angry anymore. But I didn't want to keep living like this. I didn't want there to always be a third person between us. Daniel frowned. "When did you become so sensitive about every little thing?" Was I sensitive? Maybe. "Yes, Daniel. I am this sensitive about every little thing." I looked at him, my voice steady and firm. "So I'm agreeing to the breakup." Last night, Daniel hadn't taken my agreement seriously. He thought I couldn't bear to leave him—after all, that's how it had been for all three years. I was always the one who reached out first. Always the one who apologized first. He'd grown used to me giving way, used to me bending over backward to please him. Even my friends said I wasn't worth it—that I was blinded by Daniel, insisting on being with him against all reason. In this relationship, I'd made myself so small I'd lost who I was. Daniel's expression darkened. He let out a cold laugh. "If you want to split, fine. We're done." I laughed back just as coldly. "You're the one who brought up breaking up. I'm just giving you what you wanted." I moved out. Daniel never reached out. He never did—he'd never once been the one to come to me first. A few days later, he came back from New York, and once again, I was the one who went to him. Daniel wasn't the least bit surprised. He was completely certain I'd come back. That I'd come to apologize. Just like every time before. Three years together. He was used to it. He stood in the doorway, waiting for me to speak first. Waiting for me to beg him not to leave. Instead, I slipped the ring off my finger and held it out to him. "Here. This is yours." $#{2|Chapter 2}$# Daniel looked at the ring in my outstretched hand but didn't take it. He smiled—that mocking, condescending smile of his. "Evelyn, you're actually willing to give the ring back? Don't tell me you really want to break up with me." Six months ago, Daniel had proposed out of nowhere. The moment that ring went on my finger, I finally felt safe. I never took it off. Not even to sleep. Daniel used to laugh at me for being dramatic—said it wasn't like the ring was going to sprout legs and run away. I didn't respond to his sarcasm. I just said, calmly: "Yes. Returning it to its rightful owner." Daniel went quiet for a moment, then laughed again. He didn't believe me. "Keep it." "When you come crawling back asking me to put it on you again, don't you think that'll be a hassle?" A hassle? In Daniel's eyes, what exactly didn't count as a hassle? Flying to New York every month—that wasn't a hassle? Keeping constant tabs on Jessica—that wasn't a hassle? Every year, he spent ages carefully picking out a birthday gift for his ex-wife. Not only did it always arrive on time, he made sure to send her birthday wishes at the exact right moment. The second she so much as mentioned feeling down, he'd drop everything and fly to her—just to say a few comforting words. He never told me in advance. Even when I was at home, waiting for him. Every time, he'd come back and brush me off with some excuse. Back then, I loved him, so I pretended not to know. I'd never let myself examine those details too closely. Every time I saw those messages on his phone, I told myself to just wait a little longer. Just a little more time, and things would be fine. But I was wrong. No matter how many times I apologized first, no matter how low I stooped— Daniel still kept a place in his heart. A place that belonged to Jessica. "You can keep it." My voice didn't waver. As though nothing he did could stir any emotion in me anymore. "Daniel, we're done. Completely." "You're the one who always threatened me with breaking up. I'm just making your wish come true." The smile faded from Daniel's face. "Evelyn, that's enough." "If we really break up—can you handle that?" I placed the ring on the console table by the door. I used to not be able to handle it. That's why every time, I'd go to Daniel and apologize. Even when I'd done nothing wrong. Even when I was the one hurting. My friends always asked—what was so great about Daniel? What made me willing to be so small? "Yes," I said softly. Daniel didn't hear me. "What did you say?" I met his eyes and spoke clearly, word by word: "Yes. I can handle it." "Daniel, let's end this. For real." Daniel said nothing. He just studied me, as if trying to determine whether I was serious. Then he scoffed. "Fine. Suit yourself." I knew he didn't believe me. But it didn't matter anymore. At least I didn't have to keep hurting myself. And I didn't have to keep agonizing over when he'd go running to Jessica next. Jessica and Daniel had grown up together. Everyone who saw them thought they were the perfect match. Everyone assumed they'd be together forever. No one expected them to suddenly divorce. Daniel said it was amicable. No reason in particular—just that they weren't compatible. When I first moved in, I'd seen their wedding photos. I'd also met Jessica. That day, Daniel was working late. I was home waiting for him. I heard the fingerprint lock click open and thought it was Daniel. I got up—and found myself face-to-face with Jessica. She froze for a moment, then smiled at me and said she hadn't known Daniel had a girlfriend. By then, Daniel and I had been together for almost two years. He'd never even mentioned me to her. I set the ring down and was about to leave. But then a soft, honeyed voice drifted from inside the house: "Daniel, who's at the door?" $#{3|Chapter 3}$# There was a look on Daniel's face I'd rarely ever seen—panic. Before he could say anything, I saw her. The person Daniel flew to see every single month—Jessica. I hadn't expected this. Daniel had actually brought her back. I'd barely left, and he'd already moved her into our home. Jessica walked over and noticed the ring sitting on the console table. She picked it up, examined it closely, and said in surprise: "Isn't this the ring you gave me before? What's it doing here?" I froze. I looked at Daniel, whose eyes were darting away from mine, and suddenly felt like a complete joke. The ring I'd worn day and night, the ring I'd treasured like it was priceless—it had been his ex-wife's all along. And what was even more laughable: a ring someone else had discarded had become my engagement ring. Daniel opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, nothing came out. Jessica didn't notice anything wrong. She slid the ring onto her ring finger. A perfect fit. No wonder it had always been a little loose on me. It was never meant for me in the first place. "Look, Daniel—it still fits perfectly." Jessica held up her hand to show him. Then, as if only just remembering I was there, she gave me an innocent smile. "Am I interrupting you two catching up?" Daniel glanced at me and said no. "You're Daniel's girlfriend, right?" She looked at me, pausing to think. "We've met before, haven't we?" "You've met?" Daniel frowned at me—as if I'd gone out of my way to cause trouble with Jessica. I didn't say anything. I didn't want to explain. I turned and left. That evening, I got a call from Daniel. Every time we fought, I was always the one to reach out first. This was the first time he'd ever called me. I answered but didn't speak. Neither did he. We just sat in silence for a while. I was about to hang up—end this pointless call—when Daniel's voice came through from the other end. He was trying to explain what had happened earlier, though there was a reluctance threaded through his words. "Jessica's staying in town for a while, but her place has been sitting empty. Too dusty to live in. Once it's cleaned up, she'll move back." She had options. She could have stayed at a hotel. She could have gone to a friend's. But she chose—knowing full well her ex-husband had a new girlfriend—to move into his home. I gripped my phone. I couldn't forgive any of this. But it didn't matter anymore. "Is there anything else?" "If not, I'm hanging up." I didn't want to say another word to him. "Evelyn, is this really necessary?" His voice dropped low, tight with restrained frustration. "What are you even angry about? I came to you with an explanation—isn't that enough?" He thought that because he deigned to explain first, I was obligated to accept it. Obligated to forgive him. "I'm not angry." I just… didn't want to do this anymore. Didn't want to listen anymore. I heard the click of a lighter on the other end. Daniel was lighting a cigarette. Anger was seeping into his voice now. "You want to break up over one plane ticket? Don't you think that's a little oversensitive?" "Is it really just one ticket?" I asked quietly. Daniel went silent. Nobody said divorce meant zero contact. I'd never demanded that of him. If it were truly one ticket, I wouldn't have cared. But it was every single month. And that wasn't even counting Daniel's occasional extra visits. What I couldn't accept was never about Daniel seeing Jessica. It was that he always put her before me. And I was always left waiting. "Evelyn, do you really have to be this petty about it?" His tone was one I knew well—he was losing patience. "She's alone in New York. What's wrong with me checking on her?" "I kept it from you because I didn't want you overthinking things." Daniel was free to see whoever he wanted. I couldn't stop him. But feeling like I wasn't worth it—that was my right too. I didn't want to keep feeling sad and hurt over these things. I didn't want to always be the one at the back of the line, the one who didn't matter. The engagement ring I'd wanted so badly—Daniel couldn't even be bothered to buy a new one. He never explained anything to me. Never apologized. He trampled on my dignity and blamed me for being sensitive. I wanted to ask Daniel—what was I to him, exactly? A diversion when he was bored? A toy he could have or discard at will? And I wanted to ask—why couldn't he even buy a new ring? Watching me treat that ring like a treasure, carefully and reverently—had he been laughing at me inside? I was about to speak when a soft voice floated through from his end: "Daniel, you're still up?" He immediately went quiet, as if worried about something. I had so many things I wanted to ask him. So much hurt I wanted to let out. But in the end, it all condensed into a single question. "Daniel, if we weren't together—would you remarry her?" He let out a cold laugh. "Evelyn, does that question really matter?" "If you're going to keep being like this, I'm done dealing with you." And with that, Daniel hung up. Clean and decisive. I should have known. He would never see my feelings. I found my father's number and dialed without hesitation. "Father, I agree to the arranged marriage. I'd like to get engaged as soon as possible." Daniel—this time, I'm the one letting you go.

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