I had endured his infidelity, his emotional abuse, and his utter neglect, all the while clinging to the faint hope that he would somehow change. But the truth was, he had never made a single effort to be a better partner, a better friend, or even a decent human being.
As I looked into his eyes, I saw that he knew that he was on the verge of losing me, and he was willing to do whatever it took to prevent that from happening. But this time, I was done. I had reached the end of my rope, and I wasn't going to let him manipulate me anymore.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and then I spoke. "Kieran, I can't do this anymore. I've spent far too long trying to make this work, trying to be the person you want me to be. But I realize now that I'm not the one who needs to change. You are."
He opened his mouth, no doubt to try and sweet-talk his way out of this, but I held up my hand, cutting him short.
"No, let me finish. You've had so many chances, and you've squandered every single one of them. You've hurt me, you've hurt my mother, and you've made it clear time and time again that I'm not a priority in your life."
I was done being the weak, submissive girlfriend who let Kieran walk all over her. "I deserve better than this, Kieran. I deserve someone who will love me, who will support me, who will be there for me no matter what,”
“Stop with all these speeches,” he said with a deep sigh. “Just let me make it up to you,”
“Kieran, can you stop!. "I heard Nina’s voice suddenly. She looked so irritated that he was begging me.
“Don’t pay any attention to Selena's little outburst. She's just putting on a show, you know. Trying to manipulate you into feeling sorry for her."
I fhad to resist the urge to march over and slap that smug look right off her face.
"That's not true, Kieran," I said angrily. "I'm not trying to manipulate you or make you feel sorry for me. I'm honestly done with you and I’m leaving.”
With that I pulled my suitcase out of the house ignoring Kieran calling after me.
I wiped the flour from my hands, surveying the mess I had made in the kitchen. Baking had always been a way to channel my restless energy into something productive. The sweet, buttery scent of freshly baked cookies was already making my mouth water.
As I began cleaning up the countertops, a sharp knock at the door startled me. I paused, my brow creasing. Who on earth could that be?