After yet another chilly standoff with Cam, my partner of seven years, I didn't cave. My friends rallied around me. "She's just complicated, you know? A little contradictory." "A woman who battles herself needs a saint for a boyfriend." "She's just testing you." But I was truly exhausted. I had nothing left to give, and no desire left to apologize. All the cold wars, the pointless arguments, the constant emotional dodging over the years had worn me down to the point where I couldn't tell the difference anymore. Was she genuinely complicated and emotionally unavailable, or was she simply done loving me? So when she tossed "We're done" at me like a verbal grenade, I simply caught it. "Then let's be done." 1 Cathy Riley visibly froze. I kept my head down, my voice low and steady. "I'll pack my things and take them out as soon as I can. Anything we bought together can stay with you. As for the clothes you left at my place, if you want them back quickly, let me know. Otherwise, I can box them up and ship them to you." The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by my own clipped speech. Cathy’s expression shifted from stormy anger to a blank, startling composure. She cut me off. "What about Toby? How do we split custody?" Toby was the stray cat I’d found outside our apartment complex. I’d adopted him, paid for his food, vet bills, and toys—everything. Yet, he was utterly indifferent to me. Eight out of ten times, he refused to be held, and a few times, he’d actually clawed my wrist. Cathy, meanwhile, was aloof and rarely interacted with him, but Toby adored her. He’d rub against her legs and purr with an annoying, entitled meow. "He's yours, too," I sighed. Even my deep affection for the cat couldn't withstand that kind of obvious favoritism. It felt like a tiny, final betrayal. "Nolan James," Cathy hissed, her voice tight with suppressed fury. "You missed Valentine's Day, and now you'rethrowing a tantrum?" Hadn't she been the one to say "break up"? Maybe she’d forgotten. She'd used the phrase so often; it was a cheap, effective tool to leverage control, a threat she knew always worked on me. "I told you, the flight was delayed. I got here as fast as I could." Cathy scoffed. "An excuse. Why couldn't you have taken an earlier flight?" I’d spent over twelve hours working non-stop to condense my meetings just so I could catch the last flight home that day. But Cathy wouldn't listen. She was ready with a hundred more reasons to indict me. I fell silent, a deep, weary sense of futility settling in my chest. She turned and walked a few steps toward the door, then paused, turning back with a cold, superior tone. "Until you realize your mistake, I won't be back." "We are broken up," I corrected her. She acted as if she hadn’t heard me, tilting her head. "I'll give you one more chance. My anger isn't just about your delay." This was new. Usually, she just slammed the door and vanished. "Think carefully, Nolan. Then come and apologize." 2 I sat on the sofa for a long time, trying to summon the energy to clean up the living room. Then, I retrieved the gift from the wastebasket. It was the result of a frantic search across a dozen stores in a foreign city. She hadn't spared it a glance, hadn't valued it at all. It lay there, worthless, among the other detritus of the argument. After tidying the living room, I went to the bedroom to pack. This was Cathy's house, but my life was imprinted everywhere: the matching coffee mugs, the cozy throw blanket, the couple's cutlery we'd picked out together. I only grabbed a few changes of clothes, then picked up my suitcase to leave. As I reached the front door, a flash of orange-and-white streaked toward me. Toby, the traitorous cat, planted himself squarely in the middle of the carpet, his round eyes fixed on me as if to block my exit. When I’d found him, he was filthy and malnourished. Now, his fur was glossy and thick. He looked the picture of health. I crouched down. Surprisingly, Toby didn't pull away. I gently stroked his head. "I'm leaving now. She'll take care of you." I assumed he’d be happy with that arrangement. He preferred Cathy anyway. Unlike me, he never sought my affection. I peeled Toby’s claws from where they were firmly hooked into my jeans and ignored his sudden, frantic meowing, walking out with my suitcase. 3 I was outside the building when my phone rang. It was one of Cathy’s friends, her voice heavy with accusation. "Nolan, what did you do to Cam this time? She’s out drinking, and no one can stop her. She's throwing things. Get down here and haul her home before she trashes my bar." I felt a weariness that went bone-deep. "I don't know why she's angry. She walked in and just started smashing glassware." There was a pause on the other end, followed by surprise. "You don't know? She found out you had dinner with another woman, and that woman dropped you off at your hotel. Cam's furious. She's jealous." I explained, "That was a client. The dinner was business, strictly professional. She drove me back because it was raining, and I couldn't get a taxi." So, that was the real reason. Cathy had always been this way. If I exchanged more than two words with another woman, she’d spiral into a jealous fit. I used to rationalize it, telling myself it was possessiveness born of love. But now, all I felt was exhaustion. "I could have explained everything, easily. But I don't understand one thing." My voice was quiet, aimed at the friend, but meant for Cathy. "Why does she tell you everything, but she won't just ask me?" I once asked a buddy what he did when he fought with his girlfriend. He thought about it and said, "Depends on who's wrong. We just wait for both of us to cool off, talk it out, and move on." Cathy never did that. She bottled everything up. I was always left guessing what was wrong, forced to go through her friends for intel. I couldn't fathom why she refused to communicate directly with me, why she preferred to vent to others instead of seeking clarity from her partner. Later, I learned the term for her behavior: emotionally withholding. Cathy was the most complicated, sensitive, and volatile person I'd ever known. She only knew how to retreat and push back, using veiled barbs and cold silence as her weapons. Everyone warned me people like that weren't suitable for serious relationships. I didn't believe them. I rushed in, heart blazing with hope. But now, I was lost. If a relationship always required one person to be the only active participant—the one who pursued, placated, and apologized—could it truly last? 4 I moved back to my own apartment. We might have avoided each other socially, but professionally, we still overlapped. We worked at the same research institute, though in different departments. During a project handover, I saw Cathy with a young man. He had bright, earnest eyes, a new graduate student named Finn O'Connell. Cathy's eyes lit up the moment she saw me. But I didn't look at her. I calmly handed over the documents and reports. Just as instantly, her warm expression chilled into aloof indifference. She brushed past me without a word, her gaze fixed straight ahead. I heard Finn, ever the curious gossip, whisper, "How did Professor Riley get that huge scar on her arm? It startled me when I first saw it." Someone quickly supplied the backstory. "You're new here. Professor Riley and Professor James—our Nolan—they were the golden couple. That scar is from an emergency drill back in college. She injured her arm carrying him. They say the injury kept her from qualifying for the pilot program she always wanted. That's why she switched majors and ended up here." Finn’s eyes widened with admiration. "That's incredible. They really are a dream couple." The workplace gossip flared up. Everyone praised Cathy's sacrifice—giving up her dream for me, following me to the Institute. They lauded her devotion and expressed envy toward me. Our recent cold war was dismissed as playful bickering. "I bet Nolan is the first one to apologize this time." "Last time, he bought us all lattes. What's it going to be this time? I want the fancy macarons." "I don't agree. You're cheating. Nolan always caves first. I'll take that bet only if you back Cam to apologize." I stood in the corner, listening to their laughter and assumptions. But they were all wrong this time. "Cathy and I have broken up. Please don't mention it again." My unexpected statement shut down the conversation instantly. Everyone looked at each other, then quickly dispersed. Our relationship was nowhere near the fairy tale they imagined. The constant arguments and emotional standoffs had left it deeply wounded and fragile without anyone noticing. I wanted to know: If I stopped trying to fix it, stopped fighting to keep it alive—what would Cathy do? Would she notice? Would she fight for me? Would she finally, just this once, apologize first? 5 A whole month passed. Cathy and I were like strangers, locked in a silent, exhausting battle of wills, neither willing to yield. Meanwhile, Finn and Cathy grew noticeably closer. They ate lunch together, left work together, and during the team weekend retreat, Cathy chose him as her hiking partner. Finn looked a little hesitant. "Are you sure this is okay? What about Nolan?" Cathy's voice was sharp and cold. "We broke up, didn't we? Why would I care what he does?" She didn't bother to lower her voice. "Besides, he loves running off and having dinner with other women. I'm sure he'll do the same on the mountain." Suddenly, everyone was looking at me differently. I heard the murmurs. "She's too good for him. He cheated on her, no wonder she broke up with him." When I walked past, the gossiping cluster scattered. Later, going up the trail, Finn twisted his ankle. Cathy immediately abandoned the climb to tend to him. Finn apologized profusely. "I'm sorry, I ruined our hike. Now we're last." Cathy comforted him, her voice soft and gentle. "It's fine. It was just a casual trip to relax. The ranking doesn't matter." I was walking further behind them. Since the number of attendees was odd, I hadn't wanted to split anyone up, so I was hiking alone. I've never had great stamina, and I was already breathing heavily. The two figures ahead of me were cozy and harmonious. I even heard someone praise Cathy for being so responsible and nurturing. 6 Cathy was responsible and nurturing. She was polite and gentle with everyone... except me. Back in college, she was the student-body leader. During that emergency drill, everyone ran outside. She ran to me, hauling me up—my foot was in a cast from an injury a few days prior. The whole campus heralded it as an act of pure devotion. But what they didn't hear was her spitting words at me. "Do you know how much trouble you are? Why did you even come to class with that foot? Now our whole group is last. Nolan, you are absolutely useless." I wanted to tell her I had a medical exemption and wasn't supposed to participate. But listening to her harsh criticism, I kept quiet, unwilling to provoke her further. Her friends later told me she was "speaking backward." She was genuinely worried about my injury and wanted me to rest at home. They said she specifically tracked down a specialist to prescribe me the expensive herbal medicine. "She only made a hundred dollars a day at her part-time job, but your medicine was eighty dollars a dose. She bought a two-week supply without blinking." My friend was envious. "She's just complicated, but she truly loves you. That whole 'ice queen' act is the best kind of drama." But seeing Cathy comfort Finn, I realized the bitter truth: She wasn't incapable of warmth; she simply chose to reserve her kindness for everyone but me. I could hear about her love for me through the accounts of others, but I never felt it from her attitude. She only hurled cruel words, rolled her eyes, and gave me the cold shoulder. She called me clumsy, she called me shallow. She cut up a scarf a coworker gave me and smashed a gaming console a colleague loaned me. I always told myself she was just jealous, that she cared too much. So, after being repeatedly pushed away, after every refusal to communicate, I’d talk myself down. I would be the patient one, the proactive one, the one who apologized again and again. But even love, even enthusiasm, needs reciprocity. I wasn't invincible in this relationship. I felt hurt, too. Emotional unavailability and a lack of love look so identical. I was so heartbroken I couldn't tell the difference anymore. Was Cathy truly just complicated, or had she stopped loving me? 7 I stopped walking and quietly dropped out of the retreat. I texted my boss, claiming I felt ill. Back at my place, I systematically gathered up everything Cathy had left behind, along with all the gifts she’d ever given me. I packed it all up and shipped it to her address. When I was done, I stared blankly at the sofa for a while. Then, I picked up my phone and typed three short words. "We are done." Last time, it had been a desperate test, a small, fragile hope that she would ask to reconcile. But this time was real. I genuinely wanted to walk away.