A tear struck the phone screen and bloomed into a small wet smear.

Maybe it took me being the one to call it off for him to finally face what he wanted.

The truth was, his love had never belonged to me.

I pressed the feeling back down, switched off the phone, and went on handing over my work to the new teaching assistant as if nothing had happened.

But when Winston finished his lecture, he walked straight into the office with his arm draped around Michelle's shoulders.

A stack of crisp new engagement invitations sat in his hand, and he was passing them out, one by one, to every teacher in the room.

Winston and I had kept our relationship secret on campus. We always kept a careful distance, pretending not to know each other in public.

Now that we were over, there was even less reason for me to step forward and invite the snub.

The next second, Winston held an invitation out in front of me.

A mild smile curved his lips, his tone polite and distant. "Teaching Assistant Winfield, you'll come to our engagement party, won't you?"

I took it without a word. Their party fell on the day after I left the country, so of course I couldn't attend.

I didn't explain, didn't say anything. I only gave a small nod.

My silence darkened his expression in an instant.

The office buzzed with congratulations, warm and festive.

Even the new assistant beside me sighed over how perfectly matched Winston and Michelle were.

And it was true. Winston was handsome, Michelle was beautiful.

One had become the youngest specially-appointed professor on campus just two years out of school; the other was a rising star making her name in the art world while still young.

Anyone would have called it a match made in heaven, talent and beauty meeting their equal.

Watching the office light up with celebration, I couldn't help but slip outside for air.

I had already made up my mind to let him go. Yet looking at that engagement photo, my heart still throbbed with a pain I couldn't hold back.

Barely two minutes passed before Winston was standing in front of me. "Can't stand to watch? Jealous?"

I lifted my head. On his face was that familiar look of a man certain he had everything under control.

In the past, he'd abandoned me eighty-seven times, and every single time afterward he had coaxed me back.

Sending me the narcissus I loved best, buying the necklace I'd eyed for ages, taking me to a concert I'd been dying to see.

He knew my soft spots too well, certain I couldn't bear to lose this relationship. So this time, he wanted to run the same play.

Announce the engagement on purpose, sting me into jealousy, wait for me to cave, then have me come crawling back to his side.

I made it clear to him again. "Winston, you're overthinking this. We're already done."

His face soured at once. "Ethel, stop it. Everyone knows you can't live without me."

"I have plenty of choices better than you. But you? Who else do you think would put up with you, spoil you, give you a way to save face the way I do?"

"Do you really think you'll find anyone better than me?"

So in his heart, I would always be the unreasonable, never-satisfied girlfriend who could only function clinging to him.

He reached out and took my hand on his own. "Ethel, stop being so childish."

"Just lower your head and admit you were wrong, and never bring up the breakup again. Then I'll forgive you and call off the engagement with Michelle."

"Next month we hold our wedding right on schedule, and I'll never walk out on you halfway again. All right?"

No.

I had never done anything wrong. The one who should apologize, who should bow their head, was not me.

The day of that engagement party, the moment he turned his back and abandoned me without hesitation, the wedding between us had already ceased to exist.

If he insisted on getting engaged to Michelle, I wouldn't stand in the way.

A love between three people. I was willing to step out.

My handover at the school was completely wrapped up. All that remained was to end things with Winston for good.

I went back to the house where we'd lived for seven years to pack up everything that was mine.

Seven years of waking up and falling asleep side by side, and yet, gathered piece by piece, all of my belongings fit into a single suitcase.

I opened a voice message to tell Winston that I'd left the keys on the cabinet by the entryway.

His reply came fast. The same familiar little "2" lit up the screen.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth. He clearly hadn't bothered to listen to the voice note.

He'd just assumed, out of habit, that I was throwing another fit, pressing him about where he was, demanding to know why he still wasn't home.

So without a second thought, he'd fired back a careless "2," telling me he was with Michelle, that he wouldn't be home tonight, that I should stop asking why.

I didn't bother with his message anymore. The moment I shut the door behind me, a new post popped up on my feed. Michelle had just posted it.

The photo was two silhouettes leaning close into each other.

My chest swelled tight, the pressure choking off my breath until I couldn't get out a single word.

I left my suitcase at a friend's place. I'd barely gotten settled when another message from Michelle lit up my phone.

It was a prenatal report. Eleven weeks pregnant.

I stared at that black-and-white slip, and the last string inside me snapped clean through.

Eleven weeks. That put it right at the night Winston had proposed to me.

Before he ever decided to get engaged to Michelle, I'd kept lying to myself, telling myself he was just soft-hearted, just couldn't bear to hurt her, just looking after Michelle the way you'd look after a little sister.

Time after time I forgave him. Time after time I made room for him, believing that if I held on just a little longer, the clouds would part and I'd finally see the moon.

But the two of them had probably crossed that line long ago, drawing closer with every choice they made.

The truth was, two years ago, I'd carried a child of Winston's too.

I'd been five months along by then, ready to go straight down to the courthouse and marry him.

But back then I'd used that baby as a threat, telling him that if he ever abandoned me for Michelle again, I'd end the pregnancy and end everything.

It was almost as if heaven had heard that vow.

So when Winston dropped me on the side of the road for Michelle once more, leaving me to stand in the rain for two hours and walk all the way home, I lost our five-month-old baby.

And the wedding we'd planned, with the baby gone, lost every reason to happen.

I stared at the prenatal report for a long time. In the end, I deleted Michelle from WhatsApp.

All these days, Winston had thought I was just sulking.

He hadn't said a single word to me since. He probably didn't even know I was about to fly overseas, leaving him for good.

The day I left, I announced the breakup straight into both families' group chat, attaching his and Michelle's engagement invitation alongside it.

The family group chat hadn't even reacted yet when Winston's call flashed across my screen.

The cabin chimed with the boarding announcement. I didn't wait to hear the rest. I hung up.

For me, nothing he said mattered anymore.