I took another shower, letting the water cascade over me.
It was strange. I wasn't sad, and I didn't feel like crying.
I suddenly felt drained.
I wanted to give up on this one-sided relationship that seemed to only matter to me.
I pulled out the notebook from my nightstand, the one I kept for tracking my relationship.
I'd promised myself I'd forgive him 99 times, but on the hundredth, I'd be done for good.
Flipping through the pages, I saw the records had long surpassed 99.
I'd just been holding on for too long.
I closed the notebook, packed up my things, and left.
I had to give Jackson some credit.
He always complained about my stuff cluttering the house, so I kept a place of my own.
I used to live in the same neighborhood, but when that place was sold, I found a rental closer to work.
It was handy for when I had late nights and needed a break during the day.
Jackson never seemed to notice how few things I had.
He once looked at my nearly empty closet and said it was how a wife should be, minimal and not overly glamorous.
I glanced at his colorful shirts hanging in the closet and stayed silent.
My phone buzzed unexpectedly.