I was utterly exhausted; every bit of my energy drained from my body. I didn't have it in me to keep arguing with Yohann, so I pretended not to hear a word and headed toward my room. Even though Yohann and I had lived together for three years, we each had separate rooms and usually stayed out of each other's way. What was supposed to be cohabitation that brought us closer, as a couple somehow turned into something more like two roommates sharing the same rented apartment.

As I reached for my door handle, Yohann suddenly grabbed my wrist. His expression shifted, and there was a strange awkwardness as he said, "Your room hasn't been cleaned in days. Why don't you stay in my room tonight?"

Confused, I froze for a second. Yohann had always been strict about keeping our spaces separate. No matter what happened between us in the past, he firmly believed that even couples should

maintain personal privacy. So, what's with the sudden change? His suggestion felt off like there was something he wasn't telling me.

Suspicious, I pulled my wrist away and insisted on opening my door. As soon as I did, what I saw made my heart sink. Standing in my room and wearing my nightgown, a woman was rubbing her sleepy eyes.

"Yohann, what's with all the noise in the living room? What's going on?" she asked.

The voice was unmistakable—it was Zandria, Yohann's childhood friend.

She stopped mid-sentence when she saw me standing there. She seemed caught off guard for a brief moment, but then, as if nothing were wrong, she put on a friendly face and said, "Ysha, you're back from the hospital! How's your recovery going?"

I just stood there, speechless, staring at her in my nightgown. Had she been here the whole time I was away?

Yohann's face briefly showed a flicker of discomfort before he stiffly said, "Zandria, go change your clothes first. We'll talk later."

He pulled me into the living room, his voice edged with anxiety as he tried to explain, "Last night, after dinner, we drank too much. I didn't want her driving home alone—I was worried something might happen on the way. So, I let her stay the night here. She slept in your room, but nothing happened between us. Please, don't misunderstand."

Oddly enough, I felt calm. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. There had been other nights when they went out, and he stayed over at her place. Back then, I confronted him, and we had a huge argument about it.

He must've remembered that fight, which probably explained why he was so eager to clarify everything this time. But now that we were breaking up, did any of it even matter?

I nodded, my expression neutral. "It's fine. I understand."

At my response, Yohann's anxious expression softened, though he still frowned as if trying to figure out why I wasn't upset. He studied me closely, clearly puzzled by my calmness.

I let him observe me without resistance.

A little while later, Zandria came out of my room, now dressed in different clothes. But instead of her own, she was wearing one of my dresses.

"My clothes got dirty yesterday, so I put them in the wash," she explained with a casual tone. Yet, as she spoke, she kept glancing at Yohann, her eyes filled with a subtle affection that didn't escape my notice.

Yohann, looking uncomfortable, quickly averted his gaze, pretending not to see her.

However, Zandria didn't seem bothered at all. She smiled sweetly and asked, "Ysha, you don't mind me borrowing your clothes, do you?"

There was an unmistakable edge to her words, a subtle hint of provocation.

I stayed calm, met her gaze without flinching, and replied evenly, "I don't mind. Yohann bought those clothes anyway, so feel free to wear them."

After all, I didn't intend to keep them.

For a moment, both of their faces froze. Yohann looked particularly displeased with my response, but since Zandria was still standing there, he said nothing.

Zandria, though she tried to maintain her smile. She couldn't quite hide the tension creeping into her expression.

After they left, I stripped my bed of all the sheets and replaced them. Exhausted, I collapsed into bed and slept deeply.

By the time I woke up, the sky outside was already dark, and Yohann had returned home from somewhere. I heard him moving around in the kitchen, and moments later, he said, "Come eat. I brought back some takeout."

I didn't hesitate. I was hungry, so I made my way to the dining table. As I sat down and looked at the food before me, I couldn't help but pause.

Back when Yohann had first started his business, all the long nights and constant drinking had really messed with his stomach. The doctor had insisted he stick to a light diet, and I had taken cooking classes to make sure he stayed on track.

It seemed like another lifetime ago now, but there was still a faint scar on the back of my hand from when I'd accidentally burned myself cooking for him.

Absentmindedly, I traced the mark while Yohann, unaware of my thoughts, picked up a piece of fatty braised pork and placed it on my plate.

"This is from that restaurant Zandria loves. It's really good; you should try it," he said casually; his tone softened when he mentioned her name as if offering a small olive branch.

But I felt nothing as I stared at the food in front of me, just an empty indifference. Yohann didn't seem to notice. As he continued eating, he added, "Zandria has been looking forward to this trip for a long time. Since you couldn't join in on a lot of the activities, we're taking her out to dinner tomorrow. You should apologize to her."

I blinked, taken aback. So this was what it was about. He wasn't trying to mend things with me; he just wanted me to apologize to her.

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. "Why should I apologize?"

His expression darkened, and he set down his chopsticks. "Ysha, there's no shame in admitting when you're wrong. But pretending you don't know what you did? That's another thing entirely."

I stared at him. My voice was cold but steady. "There were surveillance cameras there, Yohann. Everything that happened is recorded. If your memory's so foggy, feel free to check the footage."

"You—!" He started, clearly angry, but I was already done with the conversation.

Yohann stood there, clearly infuriated but at a complete loss for words. He just glared at me.

However, I remained calm and indifferent.

He finally snorted angrily and snapped, "You're being completely unreasonable! Stay home and think about what you've done. When you've reflected on your mistakes, come and find me."

With that, he grabbed his jacket and walked out, slamming the door so hard the sound echoed through the large living room.

For a moment, the space felt eerily quiet, leaving me alone, standing in silence.

I bit my lip, exhaling slowly, before pulling out my phone to contact a courier. I had already planned to move out, and it was time to start arranging for a pickup.

I'd accumulated a lot of belongings over the three years I'd lived here, and moving everything at once wasn't possible. So, I decided to take things step by step.

The next afternoon, as I handed the first set of packages to the delivery person at the door, Yohann unexpectedly returned. His face was stern, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the boxes.

He looked at me stiffly, his voice tight. "Are you sending something?"

I signed the receipt and answered dismissively, "Yes."

If he had paid closer attention, he would've noticed that some of the furniture in the living room was already missing. But he didn't notice. He simply grabbed some documents from the desk and left again without another word.

For the next few days, Yohann didn't come back. There were no calls, no messages. Just silence.

But I saw updates on his social media.

Apparently, he and Zandria had gone on a trip together. They visited places I had never been to, and they took photos I had never had the chance to take. In every picture, they looked so carefree, so happy—like nothing else in the world mattered.

I couldn't help but chuckle softly to myself as I scrolled through their posts. After a brief pause, I clicked the "like" button on one of them. That small gesture was my silent blessing, a way of saying goodbye without uttering a word.

After that, I went back to what I had been doing—packing the last of my belongings into my suitcase. The time had come for me to move on, to leave this chapter behind for good.

As I finished up and reached for my phone again, I noticed a new message from Yohann, sent just three minutes ago.

[Once you've thought about apologizing to Zandria, come find me] He wrote, followed by a location in a nearby city.

I stared at the screen for a moment before replying calmly. [I won't bother you two. Have a good trip]

After a brief pause, I typed again. [Oh, and I've transferred my portion of the rent to you. Please accept it.]

I sent him the money for the time I'd lived here, cutting the last financial tie between us.

A minute later, my phone buzzed again. It was Yohann, responding with confusion. "?"

I didn't reply.

Another message came shortly after: [Ysha, what's the meaning of this?]

He sent yet another one, more impatient this time: [Reply! Explain yourself!]