"Is that all you have to say?" She asked, a flash of her old frustration appearing. "I'm telling you that you were right. I'm apologizing. I'm living with my mom now.
It's a nightmare. I miss us. I miss our life. I fixed the problem, OP. Greg is gone.
She reached out trying to touch my arm. I took a smooth, deliberate step back. "Elena," I said, my voice calm and steady. "You're missing the point. Greg wasn't the problem.
You were the problem." She flinched like I had slapped her. "What? No, he manipulated me." "He asked for things."
I corrected. "You chose to give them. You chose to prioritize his comfort over my respect. You chose to kick me out of my own home." "I was confused."
She pleaded. "People make mistakes. Everyone deserves a second chance." "This wasn't a mistake." I said.
"A mistake is forgetting to buy milk. A mistake is scratching the car. Asking your partner to leave his own home so you can have privacy with another man isn't a mistake. It's a statement. You told me exactly where I stood in your hierarchy."
"But I love you." She shouted, attracting looks from a couple walking into the gym. "Doesn't that matter?" "No." I said. "It doesn't."
I checked my watch. "I have to go." "So that's it?" She cried, her voice cracking. "Two years?
You're just going to throw it away because of one bad night?" I opened my car door and looked at her one last time across the roof. I saw the desperation, the regret, and the fear of the consequences she was finally facing. "I didn't throw it away, Elena."
I said. "I just left it where you put it second place." I got in the car. I didn't slam the door.
I just closed it. She stood there crying in the parking lot, looking small and irrelevant in the rearview mirror. I turned on the radio. A classic rock song was playing.
I turned it up. I pulled out of the lot and merged onto the main road. I didn't look back. I had a date to get ready for.