In the past, whenever people joked about pairing him with Yvette, I couldn’t hide my discomfort. Sometimes I’d pretend I didn’t hear. Sometimes I’d just sit there stone-faced.
But today, I felt nothing, just like a bystander watching someone else’s story.
Basking in the compliment, Yvette lit up, casting me a triumphant glance.
Eventually, someone brought up the topic of marriage and settling down. Yvette quickly grabbed the chance and turned the spotlight on me.
“My dad’s been pushing me to get married. I’m going crazy,” she said dramatically. “I heard you have a boyfriend you’ve been with for years, but still haven’t married. You’re twenty-eight already. Doesn’t your family pressure you? Teach me your secrets. How do you deal with all that nagging?”
Eliza's POV
Everyone at the table turned to look at me, eager for gossip. Even Sean seemed tense.
Yet, I acted as if none of it bothered me.
“Of course, my family pressured me,” I said calmly. “But we already broke up, so I can’t really answer your question.”
The moment the words left my mouth, the air froze.
Several people gave me sympathetic looks while a few closer colleagues joked about introducing me to new guys.
Smiling, I pulled out my phone and agreed. “Sure. Send me their profiles.”
But suddenly, Sean’s glass hit the floor and shattered. Glass shards cut a few thin lines across his hand.
Even so, I only spared him a single glance, then looked away—no longer rushing to fuss over him like I used to.
After that, the mood at the table turned strange. The dinner that started cheerfully ended abruptly and awkwardly.
I also declined the conveniently arranged plan to ride back with Sean, shaking the phone showing my booked ride. Then I went home alone.
I had barely started to wind down when the front door suddenly swung open.
Sean then walked in, reeking of alcohol, and pinned me against the door. His kiss was rough and possessive, his hands urgent as if he couldn’t wait another second.
But my back slammed against the doorknob, and a sharp pain shot up my spine. I jolted in pain and instinctively slapped him across the face.
“Sean, what do you think I am?”
After a moment of daze, he slammed the door and stormed out.
In the five years we’d been together, we had never had this kind of silent war. Maybe that was why, now that I’d finally stopped playing along, he didn’t bother pretending to care anymore.