After He Called Me Gold Digger I Became His Rival

At four in the morning, Nathan returned to our shared home. I lay awake, staring blankly through the floor-to-ceiling window at the pitch-black sky, my pillow wet with tears.

Nathan, reeking of alcohol, entered without turning on the lights. As he headed for the shower, I quickly wiped away my tears and changed the damp pillowcase, making sure everything appeared perfect.

He quietly returned to the bed and pulled me into his arms, his warm lips brushing my ear as he murmured, "Nyomi." His large hand touched my dry cheek, the coldness sending a shiver down my spine. In the moonlight, I could see the branded watch on his wrist—the same one I gave him for his birthday, which I'd angrily discarded at the party's entrance. He must have realized I was actually there.

"Not crying, that's good," I heard him whisper, as if confirming I hadn't overheard their conversation. He inhaled the scent of my hair, his breathing growing heavier. During our more tender moments, he'd always compliment the beauty of my hair. Only today, I met Isla and discovered that she, too, had long, thick brown hair.

The thought pierced my heart, prompting me to move away. Yet, he refused to let me go, pulling me back roughly into his embrace.

"Don't!" I exclaimed, breaking the silence. It was the first time I resisted Nathan's touch.

He switched on the lamp, sitting up against the headboard, staring at me with a confused, yet compelling gaze clouded by intoxication.

"You're awake? Why are you pushing me away?" he asked, perplexed.

My voice was hoarse: "Because I don't want to."

He reached for a cigarette from the nightstand, speaking with casual indifference, "Don't want to? Nyomi, you're getting bold."

I didn't want to be compliant anymore. Once, I was the cherished little princess of my family—confident and assertive. But because I loved him, I compromised everything.

Yet this exchange hadn't earned his affection, only the reputation of being pliant. I adjusted my pajama strap and forced out the words I'd been mulling over all night: "Nathan, let's break up."

He paused, the unlit cigarette in his hand, fingers frozen over the metallic lighter. "Did you hear something? Just harmless joking among friends. Aren't you the reasonable one?"

Seeing my silence, he continued, "Alright, forget what I said. I won't hold it against you for snapping at me today, okay?"

The room fell silent. His patience wore thin, and he stood up, tossing aside the covers. "Let's end this drama. I'll pretend I never heard those words."

He left the bedroom. I burrowed back under the covers, tears flowing once more, as if with a will of their own.