I'll Never Love You Again

I was too tired to argue anymore. Without another word, I took the red string bracelet and slipped it into my pocket. "Thanks," I said.

I changed my clothes and opened the door. Katherine's voice called after me, sharp and anxious. "Where are you going?"

"To play basketball with some friends."

Since getting together with Katherine, every spare moment outside work had belonged to her. I shopped with her, entertained her, and took care of her. My time had ceased to be my own.

Not anymore. From now on, I would live for myself.

...

After an exhausting, sweat-drenched game, my friends and I sat on the benches, gulping down water. One of them, half-joking, said, "We thought you'd ditched us for good after getting a girlfriend. We were ready to stop inviting you."

I apologized quickly. "Sorry about that. I won't let it happen again. Call me anytime."

"That's more like it," another one said, grinning. "Come on, let's hit the internet café for a few rounds of games."

Back when I was with Katherine, I never fit in with her social circle. Yet, for her sake, I let my own friendships fade. Day after day, I revolved around her, making her my center. Looking back, it felt ridiculous.

By the time I returned home, it was nearly midnight. I opened the bedroom door and saw Katherine sitting on the bed, her expression tight.

"Grayson, why are you back so late?" she demanded. "I had to order takeout for lunch and dinner. It was awful."

I opened the wardrobe to grab clean clothes. "I ate out too. The food was pretty good, better than cooking at home."

Katherine stared at me, wide-eyed. "You said you would cook every day for me and asked me to avoid takeout because it's unsanitary."

"I was wrong," I replied flatly. "In this world, if you can't cook, you'd better get used to takeout."

I saw anger flicker in her eyes. "You say you're not mad, but you spent all day out without even a text or a call. You didn't come home to cook for me either!"

"I'm not angry," I said. "I was with friends. My phone died, that's all."

Katherine threw back the covers and stormed toward me, grabbing my arm. Her voice turned sharp. "Can't you be more open-minded? I've told you before—Leslie is just like a brother to me! Why are you still hung up on this?"

I pulled my arm free. "I'm not upset. I'm just tired. I'll sleep in the guest room tonight."

Without waiting for her response, I headed to the bathroom to shower. I heard her yelling behind me, but I didn't turn back.

That night, I slept better than I had in months.

Katherine always tossed and turned in her sleep, often kicking the blanket away. When we shared a bed, I barely got any rest, waking up repeatedly to cover her. But that night, alone in bed, I slept soundly.

…

The next morning, I found Katherine sitting on the couch, arms crossed, face dark. She was waiting for me to apologize and coax her back into a good mood.

That was always her pattern. The moment she got upset, I would cave, begging for forgiveness even when I wasn't at fault. Then she'd list out demands, and I would meet them one by one before she reluctantly forgave me.

But I was tired of it.

I ignored her, got ready, and left. I had something important to do that day.

…

I submitted my resignation at work. My manager looked surprised and tried to persuade me to stay, but I was firm.

I had originally taken this job to be closer to Katherine, to take care of her. But that reason no longer mattered.

Last night, I called my parents and told them my decision. I saw tears of joy in my mother's eyes.

My father's health had been declining, and he was struggling to manage our small grocery store on his own. It was time for me to go home.

Though I called it "home," it wasn't some remote village. It was a coastal city, a quiet yet developed third-tier town.

Katherine had always refused to move there. She loved spicy food and insisted she couldn't adjust to the local cuisine. That was why I had left my parents and followed her here to find work.

That evening, I met my friends for dinner and broke the news.