I Wiped Out Every Bit of Affection for Him

I was an ordinary girl. It took three years of relentless chasing to finally win Steve over.

After we got together, the phrase he used most was: If you can't handle it, we can break up.

Every single time, I would swallow my pride, begging him to stay.

Until the day I returned from a business trip, and no matter how many times I entered the door code, it kept saying incorrect.

Steve stood there, shirtless, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"You remember Joe, right? The one I couldn't get back then. She came back, begging for another chance."

"She wants this apartment. Find some time to pack up and move out."

Steve watched me, terrified I would refuse to leave.

But I just kept my head down, packing my bags, feeling a strange, subconscious sense of relief.

He had no idea that at my age, I was done begging for scraps of affection.

I finally had the courage to text my mother, who had begged me to break up with him a thousand times.

"We're done. This time, it's really over."

When I got home from my business trip, I dragged my suitcase with one hand while typing the passcode with the other.

But after several attempts, the screen kept flashing: Incorrect Code.

The passcode was my birthday. There was no way I could have gotten it wrong.

Just as I bent down to try one more time, the door swung open from the inside.

Steve leaned against the doorframe, looking down at me.

Fresh out of the shower, he was shirtless, displaying his lean, muscular chest, with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

Having not seen him for over two weeks, my eyes lit up, and I instinctively threw my arms around him.

"I missed you so much. Did you miss me? Why wouldn't the passcode..."

Before I could finish, I glanced past his shoulder and realized the apartment was in complete disarray.

The decorations and soft furnishings I had spent months choosing were packed away, some piled haphazardly in the corner.

The cozy home we had shared now looked barren and cold.

I paused, asking softly, "Are we moving?"

Steve had always complained that this place was too small, mentioning several times that we should upgrade to a penthouse.

I figured he had finally made up his mind. If he wanted to move, I would go along with it. I had always been quick to compromise when it came to him.

"Which neighborhood are we moving..."

Before the words could leave my mouth, Steve wrapped his arms around me from behind with an unusual, gentle warmth.

He murmured lazily into my ear: "Not us. Just you. I've transferred the title of the Mayfair Place apartment to your name, and I've already had your things sent over there."

My fingers tightened into fists. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He turned me around to face him. There was a flicker of pity in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

I had seen that look once before, five years ago.

Back then, he looked at me like I was a fool willing to throw herself into the fire.

Now, he looked at me like a stray dog he was about to abandon.

Steve lowered his gaze. "Joe is back. She likes this apartment, and it's close to her new office."

"To be honest, if she hadn't rejected me back then, I never would have ended up with you."

"Now that she's back, we're done."

My mind went blank. It took me a long time to process his words.

Years ago, when Steve told me to choose an apartment, he offered grand penthouses in prime locations, but I fell in love with this modest place at first sight.

It wasn't huge, but the layout felt cozy.

I had spent over six months decorating it, slowly turning a blank concrete box into a warm home.

Though our relationship over the years had always been undefined and messy.

I had always believed that when Steve came back to this apartment, he belonged to me alone.

To me, this place was sacred.

He should have known. He should have understood.

Over the years, Steve never lacked women throwing themselves at him.

One day it was an actress, the next a model or an influencer.

On the rare occasions his conscience flared up, he would frown and reject them.

But most of the time, I knew the truth: he welcomed them all.

I thought this was just another phase, that he had set his sights on some new face.

Actresses and influencers didn't bother me much anymore.

But this was Joe, the only woman who had ever turned Steve down.

I didn't know her, but over the years, Steve's friends loved to bring up her name to tease him.

The great, wealthy Steve had failed to win over a girl on his first try, making him the butt of their jokes for years.

When people spoke of Joe, they always used words like "aloof" and "proud."

She looked down on his wealth, once telling him: "Don't insult me with your dirty money."

Steve had never met anyone like her, so it made sense that she became his obsession.

I didn't know what to say, standing there in silence.

She was Joe, and against her, I stood no chance.

I murmured softly: "So... we're breaking up, then?"

Steve let out a soft chuckle, leaning down to meet my eyes. "We were never public, Maria. How can we break up?"

"Come on," he muttered, brushing a tear from my cheek. "You didn't lose out here. You got to sleep with me for years. Don't act like the victim."

I always knew we wouldn't last forever.

But hearing him put it so callously still sent a sharp ache through my chest.

He stood straight. "She's proud. If she finds out I've been fooling around with you all these years, she'll be furious."

His gaze swept over me, searching, warning.

Maybe I really was getting older. I just didn't have the energy to fight for him anymore.

A few years ago, I would have thrown a tantrum and fought him over her.

Now, I simply pulled my hand back. "I understand. I'll call a cab and head over to the new place tonight."

I had already noticed that the master bedroom was stripped bare. None of my belongings remained.

"The things in the living room..." I pointed to the decorations. "Just throw them away. They're old anyway. It's time for something new."

Steve followed my gaze, staring at the cozy space.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, he opened the door wider. "I'll have my driver take you."

I took a final look at his bare torso, his toned abs, and his lean waist.

I used to think that when the day we parted finally came, I would drag him to bed for one last passionate night.

But that was out of the question now. He loved Joe far more than I had realized.

When the driver arrived, I left carrying only the suitcase from my business trip.

Steve suddenly grabbed my arm, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "You're acting too calm. Are you playing hard to get, planning to sabotage things behind my back?"

"It wouldn't be the first time you've pulled something like that."

I stared at him for a long, quiet moment. "Don't worry," I said softly. "I won't say a word."

Aside from his close circle of friends, no one even knew we existed.

But he was still uneasy, his brow furrowed with irritation.

"You're not getting any younger. I know plenty of guys. Want me to introduce you to someone so you can settle down?"

I fell silent for a beat, a faint smile touching my lips. "Sure. Make sure to share my contact with them."

Steve's expression darkened at my response.

I didn't look back, stepping into the waiting car.

By conventional standards, I was entirely ordinary: average background, average looks.

But I possessed an abundance of confidence.

In school, my academic records were stellar, consistently ranking at the top in a highly competitive state, which earned me a spot at a prestigious university.

At work, I was highly capable, tackling projects others deemed impossible simply by putting in more hours.

I didn't smoke or drink, and my moral compass was solid.

From a young age, I understood that if you wanted a good man, you had to pursue him actively; otherwise, you'd only get the leftovers.

So, before Steve, I had successfully pursued a few handsome men.

But once I got them, their flawless faces couldn't hide their empty minds, and I would quickly grow bored of them.

Until I met Steve. He was exceptionally handsome, highly capable, well-educated, and sophisticated.

He was the perfect target, ticking every single box on my list.

I didn't know back then that Steve purposely maintained a low profile in public.

Nor did I know his family was so wealthy that buying million-dollar jewelry was like picking up cheap trinkets for him.

I assumed he was just a good-looking guy with a bit of money, and that winning him over was only a matter of time.

So, I walked up to him, tilted my head, and confidently asked with a grin: "Are you single? If so, mind if I try to win you over?"

He blinked, leaning against the wall and laughing for what felt like forever, amused by my boldness.

There were too many women chasing him at the time, and I was just a nameless face in the crowd.

But I excelled at the long game. Over three years, I outlasted wave after wave of rivals until Steve finally noticed me.

That night, in hindsight, was probably the third day after Joe had left the country.

Alcohol blurred Steve's judgment, and we spent our first night together.

When he woke up, he leaned against the headboard, staring at me for a long time before saying: "Move in with me."

Just like that, undefined and unofficial, our relationship continued for five years.

In our most intimate moments, I would push my luck and ask him what we were.

When he was in a good mood, he would placate me, saying: "Why worry about a label? You think just any woman can live here?"

During our years together, Steve wasn't terrible to me.

He learned to cook for me, held my hand through the night when I was sick, helped me pick nail polish colors while teasing my choices, and held me close on the sofa when I cried during movies.

He was so sweet at times that I almost believed he was falling in love with me.

I thought if I just stayed patient, he would eventually settle down and want to build a real home with me.

I knew I was shameless, that I had practically forced this relationship into existence.

And I knew that one day, the tension would snap.

But I never expected it to happen so suddenly.

Without a single warning, I was cast out of Steve's world.

Maybe it's for the best, I thought, leaning my head against the car window, watching the blur of streetlights.

If I had to make the decision to leave him on my own, I probably never would have found the strength.

When I unlocked the door to my new apartment, I gasped.

The place was decorated exactly in my preferred style, spanning nearly three thousand square feet. It was massive compared to our old apartment.

Yet, it felt incredibly hollow.

I stood frozen in the entryway for a long time until my phone chimed.

I opened the message and played the voice note.

"If he won't marry you, leave him! How much longer are you going to waste your life?"

"Maria, you're not a kid anymore. You can't keep wasting your time on a man who won't give you a future..."

Usually, I would laugh off these messages from my mother or give a vague reply.

This was the first time I gave her a straight answer.

"We broke up. It's over."

"Are you lying to me again?!"

I sighed. "It's true this time, Mom. It's really over."

The next morning, I dragged myself to work with dark circles under my eyes.

In the adult world, one night of grieving is all you get for a broken heart.

Corporate drones have to keep grinding; there's no time to stop for water, let alone self-pity.

My manager walked past my desk and tapped my shoulder. "Maria, the bidding meeting in three days is all on you."

Despite being fully prepared, a flutter of nerves hit me. "Don't worry, I've got this."

As I sat down, my screen lit up with several persistent messages.

"Seriously, are you sure you won't consider joining my company?"

"Now that you've split with Steve, why stay there?"

"Just say the word, and I'll match whatever terms you want. The pay is way better than your current gig."

I smiled, typing back: "Since when did you start moonlighting as a headhunter? I'm not interested. I have my career path planned out, and I don't want to make sudden changes."

I had never considered quitting just because Steve and I had broken up.

After all, he wasn't the reason I had joined Astra Technologies in the first place.

Astra was a massive corporate giant, and I had fought hard against hundreds of applicants to land this position.

The following evening, just as I was packing up after working late, my phone rang.

The screen showed a call from Steve's close friend, Beckett.

I declined the first call, but it rang again immediately.

After a brief hesitation, I picked up.

Beckett's voice came through. "Steve is wasted. Come pick him up."

"He has a girlfriend, and it's not me," I replied flatly. "You dialed the wrong number."

"Wait, don't hang up! What girlfriend? He's the one who insisted I call you. He refuses to leave. If you don't show, we're just going to leave him here on the street."

As I drove toward the club, I realized I was still incredibly weak when it came to him.

I hadn't slept a wink for the past two days, staring at the ceiling until dawn.

It was only when this call came that I realized what I had been waiting for.

I was actually hoping that maybe Steve had regretted his decision.

Maybe he had realized that Joe was no different from any of the other women.

Maybe he found her boring and was using this as an excuse to crawl back to me.

If he apologized, then I...

I wouldn't make it easy for him.

With these thoughts swirling in my head, I pushed open the door to the private room.

Only to see a perfectly sober Steve sitting comfortably beside Joe.

I froze in the doorway, but before I could react, an arm draped around my shoulders.

I turned my head to see Beckett, who casually announced to the room: "Hey everyone, meet my girlfriend, Maria."

He pressed his hand over mine, whispering rapidly into my ear: "Joe suspects there was something between you and Steve. She demanded to see you to clear the air. You know how protective Steve is of her right now. Just bear with it for a bit and pretend to be my girl."

My entire body went rigid. A wave of humiliation washed over me, threatening to drown me.

I looked at Steve. He was leaning back against the sofa, his eyes locked on mine, flashing a clear warning.

This meant he had approved of this setup.

My fingernails dug deep into my palms, the pain grounding me as I pulled myself together.

I forced a smile, slowly wrapping my arm around Beckett's.

Looking at the group, I said clearly: "I'm Maria, Beckett's girlfriend. Nice to meet everyone."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Steve's hand stiffen slightly.

This was my first time seeing Joe in person. She wore a designer white dress, looking effortlessly beautiful even with minimal makeup.

Believing the lie, Joe smiled warmly and reached out to shake my hand. "We're all friends now. Make sure Beckett brings you out with us more often."

I smiled back. "Of course, whenever we have time."

She seemed genuinely happy, even standing up to pour me a drink.

Before I could speak, Beckett raised his hand to block the glass. "She's allergic to alcohol. She can't drink. I'll have it for her."

The room fell quiet at his words, and I turned to look at him in surprise.

Steve set his glass down, leaning his arm on the back of his chair, his eyes narrowing as he studied Beckett.

Beckett ignored him, draining the glass so quickly that he coughed slightly.

Keeping up the act, I leaned in and patted his back gently. "Are you okay?"

After a while, Joe suggested playing truth or dare, and everyone eagerly agreed to indulge her.

Beckett drew the first turn and chose truth.

"How did you and Maria get together?" someone asked.

Beckett easily spun a lie. "I pursued her for three years before she finally agreed to date me."

A few rounds later, it was my turn for a dare: pick a man in the room and give him a deep kiss.

My eyes instinctively darted toward Steve.

Joe watched me, her smile faltering slightly. "Well, Beckett, looks like you're the lucky guy. Better make your move."

Beckett instinctively glanced at Steve.

But the man sitting at the center of attention acted entirely detached, refusing to spare us even a single glance.

I let out a bitter, silent laugh. Beckett is handsome anyway. I won't lose out on this.

I steeled my resolve, pulling Beckett close and tilting my head up to kiss him.

Suddenly, Steve's voice cut through the room, slow and deliberate.

"That's enough," he said, shooting a warning look at Joe. "Keep the games within bounds. Since when do you get to boss Beckett around?"

Joe bit her lip, shooting us a frustrated glance.

The kiss never happened, but we had to play our roles to the end. In the end, Beckett had to drive me home.

When the car pulled up to my building, I opened the passenger door, ready to leave.

Suddenly, a hand caught my wrist. I turned back to see Beckett looking at me with a lazy, playful grin.

"Honestly, you're pretty interesting, and I'm definitely not a downgrade from Steve."

"How about giving me a shot?"

My brow furrowed, but before I could reply, a violent crash slammed into the rear of our car.

The impact threw me forward. Gaining my bearings, I looked up at the rearview mirror.

Sitting in the driver's seat of the car behind us was Steve, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel, his face completely devoid of warmth.