I went home and spent the rest of the day doing nothing, just sitting there and staring at the walls.

At some point, while sitting in the bedroom, something crossed my mind. I went back and forth on it a few times, but eventually I made up my mind and did it.

Afterward, I realized I was hungry. I got up, went to the kitchen, and started frying an egg. The pan sizzled, and the smell of the egg drifted through the apartment.

I ended up zoning out again, just standing there watching the egg cook, until Sophie's voice snapped me out of it.

"That smells amazing. Are you making eggs?"

I looked up, startled to see her standing in the doorway.

"Perfect timing, I'm starving too."

I almost couldn't believe it. I thought I was seeing things until she walked over and wrapped her arms around me.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around much lately," she said.

I held her back. "It's okay."

"Can you make me your pasta? I've been craving it."

She smiled at me, eyes soft and warm, exactly the way she looked the first time we met. "Sure."

I watched her walk to the counter, but the ache in my chest wouldn't stop.

How did we end up here?

I ate the pasta slowly this time, so slowly that I couldn't even bring myself to look up at her. I was afraid that if I did, I wouldn't be able to hold back the tears.

Sophie noticed something was off and rushed over. "What's wrong, Miles? Are you crying?"

The worry in her eyes was something I'd carry with me for the rest of my life. She still cared about me. So why did she keep doing things that broke me apart?

I looked at her and asked, very calmly, "Would you end the pregnancy for me?"

Her brow furrowed. "And if I said no?"

"If you end it, I'll forgive everything. I'll let all of it go."

The tenderness from a moment ago vanished, replaced by something cold. "Fine. Then answer me this. Which one will you choose? Me or your dignity?"

I didn't answer. I just looked at her for a long time.

That was how dinner ended, and the conversation with it, bitter and unfinished.

By the time the sun came up the next morning, Sophie was already gone.

I let out a quiet sigh, got up, and started packing. It turned out I didn't own much. Everything I had fit into one small suitcase.

I took one last look around the apartment, at every corner of the room we'd shared, then set the divorce papers I'd prepared on the pillow on Sophie's side of the bed.

It was time for me to leave too.

Before I ever had a chance to choose, Sophie had already made hers. Between that baby and me, she picked the baby.

As for the question she asked me? I had my answer now.

I didn't want her anymore.

She was the one who decided first, not me.

Sophie had been giving me the cold shoulder over our argument, and she hadn't come home or reached out in days. Whenever she got upset, I was always the one who caved, the one who apologized, the one who bent first.

So she was waiting, waiting for me to accept everything and come crawling back. But this time, she'd be waiting for nothing, because I'd already left the city.

It took Sophie a full week to realize I was gone. When she finally called, I was sitting in the yard of a little countryside cottage, soaking up the sun.

"Hello?" I hadn't checked the name on the screen before picking up. The other end was silent at first.

I pulled the phone away to look. It was Sophie.

She didn't say a word, like she was waiting for me to explain myself.

"Oh, Ms. Souza. What can I do for you?"

The formality caught her off guard.

"What's that supposed to mean, Miles?" She was barely keeping her anger in check.

"Are you calling about the divorce papers? It's pretty straightforward. I want a divorce. What, can't you read?"