The Therapy of Letting Go

It was as if nothing had ever happened.

If anything, I felt like I loved Peter even more.

Every day, I fussed over him, tended to his needs, and doted on him more than he ever did on Julia.

Even the intimate acts I once resisted, I began to go along with.

Peter was thrilled.

“Sarah, if only you’d been like this from the start.”

But soon, Peter began to notice something was off.

I didn’t care if he worked late or caught a cold, and I never checked up on him.

When his replies came slow, I didn’t push.

When he broke plans, I didn’t get angry.

Even when I saw lipstick on his shirt, I acted like I hadn’t noticed.

In just a month, the therapy had taken effect.

Peter started to look uglier in my eyes.

When he leaned in to kiss me, a wave of disgust rose in my chest.

The closer he got, the harder it was to bear.

In those moments of forced intimacy, he seemed to sense something.

He asked, “Sarah, do you love me?”

Without hesitation, I said, “Of course.”

But somehow, that answer didn’t satisfy him.

He asked again and again, needing constant reassurance.

And finally, on an ordinary day, I finally realized I was ready to walk away from Peter.

Over the past few days, I’d been sending my belongings away little by little.

An old college friend who started a business abroad had invited me to join him.

I accepted the offer.

That night, Peter came back unusually early from “taking out the trash.”

I quickly shut my eyes.

He slipped quietly into bed beside me.

His arm reached across the space between us, trying to pull me close.

I turned over casually, putting some distance between us.

His hand froze midair.

“Sarah, have you been too tired lately?”

There was no response.

“Why don’t you argue with me anymore?”

I still didn’t response.

Peter kept talking to himself. “What kind of wedding do you want? How about one by the lake? You’ve always said you wanted to go there…”

There wouldn’t be a wedding.

I drifted off to sleep to the sound of his rambling.

The next morning, Peter shaved, then put on the most expensive designer suit in the closet, the one I’d given him for his birthday once.

Today was the day Peter accompanied Julia to collect her divorce papers.

She was already waiting downstairs.

The moment she saw him, she went straight up to him, clinging to his arm.

When she noticed me, she smiled politely, but the smug glint in her eyes gave her away.

Peter turned around, saw me, and quickly pushed her a little aside.

“Sarah, what are you doing up so early?”

It wasn’t even time for me to leave for work.

He walked over, took my hand gently, and said softly, “Julia’s just getting her divorce papers today. I’ll take her to the airport after that. Then we’ll have dinner together, just the two of us.”

But I didn’t believe him.

He had just been promoted a few months ago.

He wasn’t even thirty, already earning a comfortable five-figure salary and making a name for himself in the city.

Julia, on the other hand, was supposedly leaving to stay with relatives overseas and take on some ordinary job.

How could that compare to rekindling things with Peter?

But I didn’t expose the lie.

Peter took a few steps, then turned back to look at me.

“Wait for me. I’ve got a surprise for you tonight.”

This time, I didn’t respond.

He seemed to sense something.

“Sarah…”

He paused, about to turn back, but Julia caught his hand.

And just like that, he left.

That day, the sky was clear and bright.

That day, my heart felt light.

That day, I finally ended a failed relationship.

I boarded the plane and left it all behind.