The next day, I returned the brand-new phone I’d bought.

Lucky I hadn’t given it to her; otherwise, it would have been a complete waste.

Watching the refund notification pop up on my screen, I felt that familiar ache returning.

I’d loved her for so many years, and this was how it ended – a complete separation. Pretending it didn’t hurt would’ve been a lie.

She was my first love, the one who’d caught my eye with her sweet smile back when we were teens.

Since then, I’d been head over heels, my love so blinding that I even left my studies, proud as I’d been of my achievements, just to follow her to another city to find work.

It took seeing her with someone else for me to finally understand. I’d been nothing but a convenience.

She accepted my love simply because she could enjoy what I gave her.

And it wasn’t even the first time she’d gotten close to another guy.

Back in school, it was easy to pass off as innocent flirtations, but this time – well, they’d moved those “innocent flirtations” all the way into a hotel room.

We used to argue about her inability to keep boundaries, but I was so in love with her that, after just a few hours, I’d always be the one apologizing.

Sometimes, after one of her stunts, I’d actually think about breaking up. But then, she’d cry, and I’d soften up.

Looking back, it’s ridiculous how easily I was swayed.

After what happened, I figured we’d go our separate ways and never cross paths again.

She was always so stubborn, so proud; I doubted she’d reach out.

And as for me? I’d given up any thought of going back to her. My heart was broken beyond repair, and I’d finally had enough of apologizing for things that weren’t my fault.

But that afternoon, I received a text from her, asking me to come over.

It was the first time she’d ever reached out to me like this.

I couldn’t help but wonder why. Just last night, she’d told me to get lost. Had she really forgotten already?

Ignoring her message, I simply blocked her number.

Yes, I’d loved her, but that didn’t mean I’d sacrifice my self-respect. I wasn’t some puppet she could tug back whenever she felt like it.

But just as I blocked her, she called me, using another phone number, and by pure reflex, I picked up.

“You actually blocked me, Brian?” Her voice was dripping with anger, as if my blocking her had wounded her pride.

“We broke up. What’s the point of staying in contact?” I replied, my voice calm and unaffected.

“We can still be friends, right? Why make things so bitter?”

I laughed. Friends? Exes were meant to stay out of sight and out of mind – that’s the healthiest way.

She seemed utterly clueless, trying to keep me around, even though she knew she’d wronged me, still wanting me to offer her things.

When she heard me laugh, she must have thought I was letting her off the hook because her tone softened immediately. “Brian, maybe we weren’t meant to be, but that doesn’t mean we have to hate each other. As long as you’re there for me, I can treat you like a brother.”

And just like that, she asked me to run an errand for her, like nothing had changed – as if I’d be willing to drop everything to go buy her some sanitary supplies.

So that was it. She didn’t reach out because she missed me – she just wanted something.

But I wasn’t going to let her use me again.

I replied coldly, “If you need supplies, go ask Charles. I’m about ten minutes from catching my train.”

“What? You’re leaving? Where are you going?” she stammered, sounding confused.

“Home. To finish my studies,” I said, matter-of-factly.

I’d given up a year of my life for her, and now that it was over, I was ready to start putting my future back on track.

She didn’t take it well and shouted, “You can’t leave me here all alone!”

“You’re not alone; you have Charles to take care of you now,” I replied calmly. I was done caring about Charles’s true character.

But she kept at it, ordering me like always. “I don’t care! You’re the one who’s supposed to look after me! Get off that train, or this is it – we’re done!”

“Are you serious? We’re already done,” I said, ending the call.

When she tried calling again, I didn’t pick up.

She was unbelievable. When I was there by her side, looking out for her, she’d act like it was a burden. Now that I was leaving for good, she was desperate to pull me back.

But this time, it was too late. She’d already pushed me too far, and my heart, hardened by her betrayal, wouldn’t soften again.

After a grueling day and night on the train, I finally arrived home.

Seeing my parents, now elderly with white strands in their hair, stirred a deep regret in me, making me want to kick myself for my foolishness.

We weren’t well-off, but they’d always made sacrifices to keep me in school, even if it meant living on little more than plain bread and pickles.

And what had I done? I’d thrown away a promising future for a woman, letting them down.

When I told them about my plan to retake my exams, their joy was evident, and they immediately began talking about selling our pig to cover tuition.

I stopped them in time, assuring them I still had the money from returning the phone – a sum that would be enough for another year of school.

Despite having missed the exams, my grades were good enough that several schools were willing to offer me a spot.

For the first time, I was ready to focus solely on my studies, preparing for another year. But just a month later, I was stunned to see my ex, Olivia, standing at my door.

Gone was the excitement I used to feel upon seeing her; all that remained was a calm indifference.

Beside her stood her mother, Margaret, who wasted no time jabbing a finger in my face and cursing at me.

“You little punk! Taking my daughter off to work with you was bad enough, but getting her pregnant and running off? Do you have a death wish?”

With that, Margaret lunged forward, clawing to get her hands on me.

Fortunately, her round build made her slow and clumsy, and a light push sent her staggering back several steps.

Her accusations left me completely bewildered. Though Olivia and I had once been close, I’d never crossed any boundaries.

I wasn’t someone ruled by impulse; I wouldn’t do anything reckless without being certain I could offer her a future.

My slight push only seemed to intensify Margaret’s anger, and she swung her hand back, ready to slap me.

I could have dodged easily, but instead, Olivia stepped in, taking the hit herself.

The blow swelled her cheek, tears filling her eyes from the pain.

Once, seeing her hurt like this would have been unbearable, but now, her act seemed nothing more than a manipulative ploy.

It’s true – falling out of love clears your head.

Seeing me unmoved, Olivia looked somewhat deflated but still struggled to say good things about me in front of her mother.

When Margaret finally calmed down, Olivia asked to speak to me alone.

Curiosity got the best of me, so I followed her to a secluded corner.

There, she grabbed my hand, eyes swimming with tears. “Brian, please, just help me this one time. If you don’t, my mother will kill me,” she pleaded.

I shot her a skeptical look. “Cut the act, Olivia. Just spit it out and stop wasting my time.”

She looked taken aback, likely unused to my new, indifferent tone.

After a pause, she finally confessed her reason for being there.

Apparently, after I left, she’d moved in with Charles, and, being young and careless, they hadn’t used any protection. Naturally, she ended up pregnant.

Charles, the supposed “rich kid,” had no intention of taking responsibility. He packed up and disappeared overnight.

Refusing to believe he’d just abandon her, Olivia clung to her fantasy of him being wealthy.

Convinced that showing up pregnant would force his wealthy family to accept her, she borrowed money to travel to the address on his ID card.

Only, reality hit hard.

Not only was Charles’s family worse off than mine, but his parents were also addicted gamblers.

And to make matters worse, Charles already had a wife and children; his wife did most of the heavy lifting, working herself ragged to keep the family going.

Terrified, Olivia ran back.

Desperate, she sought to terminate the pregnancy, only to be told by the doctor that her uterine lining was too thin and that a termination could jeopardize her chances of ever having children again.

Panicking, she thought of me as her solution – if I would take the blame, I could care for her, and she’d still have a chance at motherhood.