The Comments That Broke Us

Another cold war with Noah.

I was just about to type out a long, rambling apology text when a line of text scrolled across my vision, like a live-stream commentary only I could see:

【Here we go again. The male lead’s buddies egged him on to give the female lead the silent treatment. So dumb.】

【Watch him step out from under his friends’ umbrella only to realize it isn’t even raining. LMAO.】

【Keep it up. The second he actually breaks up with her, his ‘buddies’ will be lining up to take his place.】

【Hey, female lead, look at his best friend, the one who supposedly hates you. If you even smiled at him, he’d give you his life.】

I froze. Half-skeptical, half-intrigued, I typed out a different message instead. A picture of a cocktail with the caption: Happy single life to me.

The next second, my Instagram story blew up with likes.

1

It happened again. Another fight with Noah.

This time, he accused me of being too controlling.

“What’s the big deal if I grab a drink with the guys? Why do you have to make everything into such a huge fucking deal?” Noah’s voice was frayed with annoyance.

It was already 11:30 p.m. “You have a sensitive stomach, you can’t drink too much.”

Clearly, Noah didn’t care. I could faintly hear the jeers from his friends in the background.

“Dude, how old are you? Still getting called home by the warden.”

“Just go, man. Don’t want to make the missus mad. We all know who wears the pants in your house, haha.”

The mockery was a direct hit to Noah’s pride. Humiliated, he snapped and hung up on me.

When I called back, he immediately declined it.

I was about to try a third time when the text feed appeared again:

【LMAO, his bros talked him into fighting with her again.】

【He secretly loves it when she calls him home, but he’s too proud to admit it.】

【Bet he’s staring at his phone right now, waiting for that third call. His thumb is probably raw from refreshing.】

I stood there, stunned. Was this… about me? Was I the female lead? And Noah was the male lead?

It sort of made sense. Noah was stubborn and emotionally constipated, always resorting to the silent treatment. But if I took the first step, made the first move to reconcile, he would usually accept it with a carefully constructed air of reluctance by the third try. The comments were urging me on, telling me to call again.

But my attention was snagged by that first comment.

Talked him into it? Noah’s friends.

My lips thinned. A spark of anger lit in my chest, and I dialed another number.

“Why do you always drag Noah out drinking? Don’t you know he has someone waiting for him at home?”

There was a pause on the other end, then a cool, detached voice answered, “When did I take Noah out for a drink?”

Ethan. Noah’s best friend since childhood. And the one who hated me the most. He never gave me the time of day, never had a kind word for me.

My anger was boiling over, and I didn’t care about our past friction. “Who else would it be? You know he has stomach issues. What’s your game, dragging him to a bar every night?”

There was a beat of silence, then Ethan let out a dry, almost amused laugh. “I just got home from a business trip. Haven’t been to any bar.”

A photo notification popped up on my screen. It was a selfie from Ethan. He looked like he’d just showered, his expression lazy, a hint of abs visible below the towel slung around his neck.

A new text followed.

“And for the record, I have a personal curfew. I have to be home by ten.”

His next message felt pointed.

“I’m not like other people. If I had a girlfriend, I’d actually listen to her.”

2

“I’m sorry,” I texted back, then quickly turned off my phone, my face burning with embarrassment. The mix-up was so awkward that I completely forgot to call Noah a third time.

When Noah came home the next day, his face was a thundercloud. I asked if he wanted breakfast. He ignored me, treating me like I was part of the furniture.

The cold war lasted for a whole week, right up until a college reunion dinner.

At the table, Noah and I sat at opposite ends. The couple that was usually inseparable now looked like strangers.

Chloe, Noah’s childhood sweetheart, leaned intimately against his shoulder and giggled. “Noah, fighting with your girlfriend again? You’re a grown man, don’t be so petty with her.”

Chloe. In the days before me, she had also been Noah’s on-again, off-again girlfriend. They had a messy history that spanned years before they finally settled into being “just friends.”

We had fought about Chloe more times than I could count, but Noah always dismissed my concerns with an impatient wave. “We tried, it didn't work. If we were meant to be, would you even be in the picture?”

His friends would laugh and tell me I was overthinking it. “You’re the first girl Noah’s ever talked about marrying. For a player like him to settle down for you? That’s love, right there.”

Watching them now, whispering and laughing together without a care in the world, I had to take a deep breath and tell myself it was just normal friendly interaction.

When the food arrived, the main dish placed in front of me was a pineapple fried rice.

Chloe gasped, as if she’d just remembered. “Oh, I completely forgot your girlfriend is allergic to pineapple! Noah, why didn’t you remind me?”

She made a show of offering me her seafood risotto, her voice laced with reluctance. “The waiter said this was the last portion. Oh well… since your girlfriend loves it so much, she can have it.”

Her words painted me as some kind of tyrant, snatching the last plate of food from a starving child. It was just risotto, for God’s sake.

I was about to refuse when Noah cut me off. “You eat yours. She doesn’t need it. Who does she think she is, anyway?”

A sudden hush fell over the table.

Chloe tugged on Noah’s sleeve, her brow furrowed as she chided him softly. “What are you doing? Just let her have it. It’s no big deal, I can eat the pineapple rice.”

Noah didn’t budge. His voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. “What girlfriend? We’re not married. And even if we were, people get divorced. We’re just dating.”

One of his friends chimed in, half-joking, “Whoa, what’s this? You thinking of breaking up, Noah?”

Noah’s immediate reply was defensive. “No.”

The friend smirked, his tone deceptively casual. “That’s what I thought. Ava has you on such a short leash, you have to report in every time you have a drink. You might give her the silent treatment to throw a little tantrum, but you’d never actually dare to break up with her.”

The taunt hit its mark. Noah’s face flushed with anger. “Who says I wouldn’t? I’ll do it right now…”

The words “break up” were on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped short, changing course mid-sentence. “But I’m not going to stoop to her level. Ava’s petty, but we’ve been together for a while. I’ll give her one last chance to apologize.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed the friend’s eyes, but Noah didn’t see it.

Chloe linked her arm through Noah’s, her voice playful. “Well, if you do break up, you can always date me again. Don’t let some outsider get the prize.”

Noah’s lips curved into a smirk as he ruffled her hair. His gaze swept over to me, cold and dismissive. “Of course. Some people are just too much drama. You’ve always been the easy one.”

3

Everyone left.

I was the only one left stranded on the curb.

The restaurant was in a remote part of town. Getting a cab here had been easy; getting one back was proving to be a nightmare. Noah had refused to give me a ride and had actively stopped anyone else from offering.

The text feed flickered back into existence.

【She’s so dumb. All she had to do was say something nice and he would’ve kicked the childhood sweetheart out of the car and driven her home himself.】

【He’s just stubborn, still pissed about the other night at the bar. If she had just called him that third time, he would’ve come home. He waited at the bar all night, fuming. It was her fault to begin with, why can’t she just suck it up and apologize?】

【He’s actually still driving around the area. He knows this place is sketchy and he’s worried something might happen to her. He does love her.】

【Oh my god, this protagonist is so annoying. Why can’t she just give in? Is saying sorry that hard?】

I pulled out my phone, my thumb hovering over Noah’s contact. I knew if I called, he’d probably turn the car around in a heartbeat.

But my fingers wouldn’t move. I put the phone away.

I couldn’t help it. I crouched down by the side of the road and started to cry.

I didn’t understand what I had done so wrong. Noah was always like this, using the silent treatment again and again to force me to be the one to surrender. I used to think it was just his personality.

But it wasn’t. I’d seen him, more than once, coaxing and soothing Chloe with a gentle voice when she was upset. He had patience and tenderness; he just never gave them to me.

Every time he got angry, he would dangle the threat of a breakup over my head. He did it because he knew I would always be the one to back down.

But this time, he was wrong.

I walked for an hour before I finally found a cab. I was so exhausted I could barely stand.

But I never made that call to Noah.

4

When I got back, I started packing. I moved my things out of our apartment.

For the next three days, I didn't send Noah a single text.

Then, for the first time in a long while, he called me.

“Hey. Wear something nice tonight. You’re coming with me to a gala.”

His tone was as stiff as a board, but for Noah, this was the equivalent of extending an olive branch.

But I refused. “I’m not going. Find someone else.”

There was a stunned silence on the other end. “Find someone else?” Noah’s voice was laced with disbelief. “Everyone’s bringing their girlfriend. Who am I supposed to bring?”

“Anyone,” I said. “Chloe, or whatever other girl is around.”

“Ava, how many times do we have to go over this? We’re just friends. Are you seriously going to bring up old shit again? Is that all you know how to do?”

“You’re the one who said you’d get back with her if we broke up. Do you need me to repeat your exact words back to you?”

His breathing on the other end became heavy, ragged with fury. “Fine. Then we’re done. Let’s see who comes crawling back like a dog, begging for a second chance.”

Noah was confident. Our friends didn’t know that we had broken up once before. He had never mentioned it, as if always leaving himself an escape route. For him, the words “let’s break up” were just code for: “I’m mad. You need to fix it. Once you’ve begged enough, we can get back together.”

But one person can only be the first to apologize so many times. No matter how much love there is, it starts to feel like a burden.

“Fine. Let’s break up,” I said.

Maybe it was the night at the bar, or maybe it started long before that, but I was just tired. I finally understood that in Noah’s world, my concern was being controlling. My calls were an embarrassment. My love was a cage.

If that’s how he saw it, then I would let him go.

Here’s your freedom, Noah.

5

After Noah and I officially broke up, the text feed went wild.

【Wait, I haven’t checked in for a few days, how did they break up?】

【Ugh, it was definitely his toxic ‘friends’ again. They can’t stand to see anyone happy just because they’re single.】

【Watch him step out from under his friends’ umbrella only to realize it isn’t even raining. LMAO.】

【Keep it up. The second he actually breaks up with her, his ‘buddies’ will be lining up to take his place.】

【Come on, girl, get it together. If he can run around with his childhood sweetheart, you can find yourself a hot younger guy. Why should guys have all the fun?】

To say I wasn’t hurting would be a lie. A multi-year relationship doesn’t just vanish overnight.

But I couldn’t let myself spiral. I had my own life to live.

I didn’t believe a word the comments were saying about his friends. They had always treated me poorly, warning me in hushed tones that I wasn’t good enough for Noah, pressuring me to leave him.

The worst was Ethan. He once cornered me against a wall, demanding to know what I saw in Noah. I thought he was just being an overprotective friend, so I said the most obnoxious thing I could think of. “His money. I have a thing for rich guys.”

From that day on, Ethan started wearing a different luxury watch—sometimes multiple—on his wrist every day. I thought he was trying to mock me, so I sniped at him, calling him a peacock. I asked if his family had gone bankrupt and he’d been forced to become a watch model.

He was so pissed that he showed up the next day with a bare wrist.

But now, reading the comments, I hesitated.

As a test, I posted a story on my Instagram: a simple text post on a black background.

【Officially single. Here’s to new beginnings.】

It was two in the morning. I didn’t think anyone would see it.

The next second, my phone started vibrating nonstop. It was an avalanche of likes. The names were all familiar—people who had never once interacted with my posts before. It was Noah’s entire circle of friends.

I refreshed my feed, and a new post popped up at the top. It had been posted one minute ago.

It was from Ethan.

Ethan: 24, 6'3", grad degree, no childhood sweetheart baggage, 10 p.m. curfew, dislikes arguments and the silent treatment, a good listener. Currently single and available.

I thought about the comment telling me to find a hot younger guy. I tapped on Ethan’s profile and sent a message.

Me: 【Hi.】

He replied instantly.

Ethan: 【Yes. I’ll post that we’re official right now.】

Me: 【?】

Me: 【But I wasn’t asking you out.】

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