When He Desired Another, I Walked Away! Now He Regrets It!

After three years of being the one he always took for granted, I accidentally knocked over the puzzle hanging by his bed the day after meeting his parents.

Each puzzle piece had a name scrawled on the back: Kinsley Moore, his first love, who was now married to someone else.

He had always been calm, never raising his voice at me, but that day he slapped me. I struck back harder and left him behind for good.

Later, he tossed the puzzle aside and insisted on taking me home.

——

Xandros had a passion for puzzles. Every inch of our home, from the bedroom to the living room, was filled with puzzles of different sizes.

The one hanging near the bed was a beautiful landscape, a sunset over an unknown horizon, sealed behind glass—except for one missing piece right where the sun was, leaving the scene oddly unfinished.

I had brought it up once, but Xandros easily brushed it aside, claiming it was lost and never bothering to explain.

The puzzle lay in ruins on the ground, surrounded by shards of broken glass, a mess mirrored my thoughts' confusion.

Last night, we were still talking about meeting each other’s parents, but now, Kinsley’s name was spread across our bedroom floor.

I stood there for a while, having no intention of cleaning up. After a moment, I walked to the living room, sank into a chair, and checked the time. Xandros would be home from work in about thirty minutes.

I watched the digital clock as the seconds slipped away until I heard the door open.

Xandros walked in, turned on the living room light, and casually asked, “Why didn’t you turn on the light?”

Without answering, I simply stared at the bedroom door.

“Xandros, I accidentally shattered the puzzle by the bed,” I said at last.

Xandros paused for a heartbeat, then dashed toward the bedroom without uttering a word. He halted at the door, and I saw his hand clenching slowly at his side. Without looking back, his voice came out low and tense as he asked, “Why?”

I fought to suppress the whirlwind of emotions bubbling up inside me and began, “Xandros, don’t you think you should explain—”

I hadn’t even finished my sentence when Xandros’s furious sliced through the air.

“I asked you why! Why?! You’re so pathetic that you couldn’t resist touching it, could you?” he thundered.

Xandros’s fist crashed against the bedroom door, the sudden noise causing me to flinch. Fear began to creep into my heart, swiftly overtaken by a storm of anger.

“Xandros, are you yelling at me? Why does every single puzzle piece have your ex-girlfriend’s name on it? Hanging her name by the bed—how disgusting! She’s married, and yet you can’t move on? Tough luck; she doesn’t even give a damn about you!” I fired back.

My thoughts simmered, and I spoke without a second thought. My vision blurred with tears I hadn’t even realized were spilling down my face. It wasn’t until I felt Xandros’s hand land hard against my cheek that I felt his hand crash against my cheek.

Everything became crystal clear in an instant. I noticed Xandros’s neck flushed red, his right hand trembling, and in his eyes, I caught a flicker of anger mixed with confusion. The room fell into a heavy silence, and neither of us uttered a word.

As the burning pain on my face grew more pronounced, I struck back with all my might, my newly manicured nails leaving bright red streaks on Xandros’s cheek.

He remained frozen in place, his head turned to the side. Without a second thought, I snatched my bag from the shoe cabinet by the door, slammed it shut, and stepped out of the apartment we had shared for two long years.

Sitting in my car, I felt my emotions swell uncontrollably. I forced my eyes wide open, battling the tears that threatened to cloud my vision again. The scorching August air now felt like a chilling plunge, leaving my body and heart trembling.

Once I had steadied my emotions, I drove back to my cozy apartment. Since moving in with Xandros, I haven’t returned here in ages. I tore the dust cover from the sofa and let myself fall onto it.

The flashy chandelier on the ceiling, which I had selected myself, looked far more attractive than the sterile white square light in our bedroom."

When did I begin to consciously let go of the things I used to love?