I’ll Exit Our Love Story

When my mother suffered a massive stroke, my boyfriend was busy playing tour guide at the airport for his childhood sweetheart's parents.

I was gripping the ICU surgical consent form. My hand was shaking so violently I couldn't even hold the pen.

My desperate texts pleading for help had been sitting on delivered for three hours.

I asked him to transfer some money and bring a change of clothes. He didn't reply to a single word.

Yet three minutes ago, I refreshed my social media feed.

He had just posted a photo carousel. There he was, strolling through the airport terminal with Stella's parents. Stella was clinging to his arm. Resting against her collarbone was the diamond starburst pendant I had saved up half a year's salary for, but ultimately couldn't bring myself to buy.

The caption read: "Mr. and Mrs. Smith's first time in the city. I've got the whole itinerary covered."

For seven years, I had shared every mundane detail of my life with this man. Over time, his instant replies had faded into complete indifference.

When the nurse called my name to sign another stack of medical release forms, I looked up at the sunset bleeding through the hospital window. And suddenly, my mind was perfectly clear.

The disappointment I had been hoarding for seven years was finally enough to buy a one-way ticket out of your life.

...

I sat on the hard plastic chair in the ICU hallway for an entire night. My eyes were burning and heavily bloodshot.

When he finally showed up and saw me, a flicker of annoyance flashed across his face. He quickly walked over.

"Why didn't you call me earlier? I was up until two in the morning getting Stella's parents settled. I barely slept for two hours before your texts woke me up."

Hearing those words, a suffocating wave of grievance clawed at my throat.

I stared at the crumpled gift bag in his hand and said absolutely nothing.

He shoved the bag into my lap. His tone was entirely casual.

"Stella's parents brought some local snacks. We couldn't finish it all, so I brought the leftovers for you."

"Oh right, how is your mom? It's nothing too serious, right?"

"She is stable for now. Still in the ICU."

My voice was so terrifyingly calm it felt like I was talking about a stranger.

Connor just let out a quiet "oh" and nodded. Then, the complaining started.

"You have no idea how picky Stella's parents are. They insisted on a five-star hotel and only wanted to eat at the most expensive steakhouses. We walked around the shopping district all afternoon yesterday. I literally have blisters on my heels. If it wasn't for Stella, I wouldn't have bothered entertaining them."

He lifted his foot to show me the bandage on his heel. He looked like the victim of a great injustice.

Looking at him, a memory from last month suddenly surfaced.

I had suffered a severe acute appendicitis attack. I was rolling on the bathroom floor in agony. When I called Connor, he told me he was at a stadium concert with Stella. The tickets were VIP, and he absolutely couldn't leave.

He told me to call an ambulance myself. He actually said, "It's just an appendix, Tara. It's a minor procedure. Stop being so dramatic."

In the end, it was my best friend Brooke who rushed over, got me to the ER, held my hand before surgery, and stayed by my bed all night.

Connor didn't show up until noon the next day. He brought a bag of cheap apples that someone else had gifted him, sat in the chair for ten minutes, and started looking at his watch. He said Stella was scared to be alone in her apartment and he needed to go keep her company.

Back then, I was still lying to myself. I told myself he was just clueless. I told myself he just viewed Stella as a little sister.

But yesterday, while my mother was lying in the ICU fighting for her life, he was out treating another woman's parents to a luxury vacation.

"Connor."

I cut off his endless complaining.

"The eighty thousand dollars I asked you to transfer yesterday for the surgery. When are you sending it? That is the down payment for our house. The money we saved for three years that I kept in your account."

Connor's eyes darted away. He scratched the back of his neck and spoke as if it meant nothing at all.

"About that money. I used it yesterday to book the penthouse suites for Stella's parents. Upgraded their flights to first class. And I bought Stella that necklace she was looking at. It's pretty much gone."

"It's their first time visiting. I couldn't exactly let them pay for everything themselves, right? That would be embarrassing."

"It's just a little bit of money. Do you really need to interrogate me over it?"

"What did you just say?"

My head snapped up. I could feel the blood roaring in my ears.

"That was my mother's life-saving money! The doctor said a one-minute delay could have killed her. And you took her life savings to buy face with another family? To buy jewelry for another woman?"

"It's their first time in the city! I couldn't let them rough it out. How would that make me look?"

Connor sounded completely justified. He even had the nerve to point a finger at me.

"Why are you being so difficult? I just borrowed it temporarily. I'll pay you back when my year-end bonus comes in. What is the big deal?"

"Pay me back? While my mother was lying in the ICU waiting for the cash to clear for her surgery, did it cross your mind to pay me back then?"

"When I was hospitalized for my appendix, you took Stella to a concert.

When I worked overtime until midnight and had to walk home in the pouring rain, you were at a bar taking shots with Stella.

Now my mother's life is hanging by a thread, and you are playing tour guide for her parents with my mother's medical funds!"

Connor's face flushed with defensive anger.

"Stop acting crazy, Tara! Stella and I grew up together. Her parents are practically my family. Is it a crime to take care of them? Your mom is stable now, isn't she? Do you really have to be this aggressive?"

"Your family?"

A hollow, broken laugh escaped my throat. My eyes were entirely devoid of warmth.

"Her parents are your family. But my mother is worth less than a stranger on the street to you. Is that it?"

His face darkened. He clearly didn't want to argue anymore.

"I am too tired to fight with you. We will talk about the money later. I need to go buy breakfast for Stella and her folks."

Right on cue, his phone vibrated. He glanced at the caller ID, and his entire demeanor instantly melted into sickening sweetness. He turned his back to me.

"Hey, Stella. What's up?"

"You guys are awake? You want breakfast? Okay, I'm heading out right now. What are you craving? Lattes and croissants? Or that fancy brunch spot?"

"Yeah, absolutely. I'll get it all. I'm on my way."

He hung up, grabbed his jacket, and started walking toward the elevators.

"They're awake and hungry. I have to hurry over. Whatever your problem is, we can talk about it tonight."

"Connor."

I called his name.

He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. The impatience was practically carved into his forehead.

"What now? I'm seriously in a rush."

I looked dead into his eyes and spoke very slowly. "When you're done playing pretend, we need to talk."

He obviously didn't take me seriously. He just thought I was throwing a tantrum and waved his hand dismissively.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll find you tonight."

I stood frozen in the sterile hallway. I looked down at the crumpled box of half-eaten pastries in my hands. It felt like the cruelest joke in the world.

I dropped the box into the nearest trash can and walked back to the ICU doors.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my older brother's number. When he answered, my voice finally began to tremble.

"Liam. Mom had a stroke. Can you get here as soon as possible?"

By the afternoon, my mother's vitals had finally stabilized. They moved her from the ICU to a regular private room.

Liam booked the earliest express train. He would be here by sunset.

I was resting my head on the edge of my mother's bed, drifting into a shallow sleep. Through the haze, I heard footsteps echoing down the hall.

I thought it was the nurse doing rounds. But when I lifted my head, I saw Connor walking through the door.

Right behind him, hiding behind his shoulder like a delicate little bird, was Stella.

In that split second, my brain short-circuited. I stared at them in utter disbelief.

My mother had just been pulled from the brink of death. She was supposed to be resting in total quiet. And he actually had the audacity to parade Stella right into her hospital room?

Stella practically skipped over to the bed. Her voice was dripping with manufactured sweetness.

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Davis. Connor and I just found out you were sick, so we rushed right over."

She intentionally put heavy emphasis on "Connor and I." She even turned back to flash him a dazzling smile. The diamonds on her starburst necklace caught the fluorescent lights. The glare physically hurt my eyes.

Connor didn't even glance at me. He certainly didn't look at my frail mother on the bed. Instead, he reached out to gently guide Stella by the waist. His tone was incredibly gentle.

"Watch your step, don't bump into the IV pole."

I sat glued to the chair. My fists were clenched so tight my fingernails were biting into my palms.

Stella immediately linked her arm through Connor's and turned to me with a perfectly crafted look of pity.

"Tara, please don't be mad. It's all my fault. If I knew your mom was in the hospital, I never would have let Connor run around the city with my parents. You must be so exhausted being here all by yourself."

She paused, lifting a perfectly manicured hand to lightly touch her collarbone.

"Look. Connor was so worried about me being stressed out that he bought me this necklace. He said entertaining the elders is hard work, and he wanted to see me smile."

"I remember you staring at this exact one online for months. Right? It's a shame it was too expensive. You just couldn't bring yourself to swipe the card."

A look of smug satisfaction crossed Connor's face. He patted her hand.

"As long as you like it. The money doesn't matter."

As if that wasn't enough, Stella leaned closer to him and pouted her lips.

"Connor, I'm feeling a little parched. I really don't like the tap water here. Could you go downstairs and grab me a sparkling water? Ice cold, please."

"Of course. I'll be right back."

He didn't even hesitate. He turned on his heel to leave.

"Connor."

My voice cracked like dry ice.

"My mother just woke up. She needs someone here. Can you stay for five minutes?"

He froze mid-step. He slowly turned around, his eyebrows pulled into a tight, frustrated knot.

"Stella is thirsty. I'm just running down to the cafeteria. Aren't you sitting right here watching her? Stop being so suffocating."

"Suffocating?"

"My mother is lying in a hospital bed hooked up to monitors. You brought another woman in here to disturb her rest. You haven't asked a single question about her condition. But you are rushing out the door to buy sparkling water. What exactly am I to you, Connor? What is my mother to you?"

Stella's eyes immediately flooded with tears. She tugged frantically at his sleeve.

"Connor, it's my fault. I never should have come. I just made Tara angry. I should just go. I'm just causing trouble."

She took a step back, but her body angled perfectly to fall right into his chest.

Connor immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her like I was holding a weapon. His face turned ice cold.

"That is enough, Tara! Stella was nice enough to come check on your mom. Why are you screaming at her? She just came to pay her respects. Why do you have to be so incredibly toxic?"

"Pay her respects?"

"She is standing over my mother's sickbed, showing off a necklace bought with the money meant to save my mother's life. You call that paying respects?"

Before he could answer, the elderly woman occupying the other bed in the room slammed her plastic cup onto her tray table. She had heard enough.

"Listen here, little girl," the old woman barked. "Her mother is fighting for her life. And you are prancing around here wearing jewelry bought with their emergency funds. Do you have any shame at all? If you actually cared, you'd sit quietly. Don't come in here acting like a homewrecker and bringing bad energy into a place of healing."

Stella bit her lip. Real tears were welling up in her eyes now.

Connor's face flushed with utter embarrassment. He wanted to defend Stella, but he couldn't exactly scream at a sick old lady. He just stood there, looking utterly pathetic.

I didn't want to cause a scene next to my sleeping mother. I took a deep, shaky breath.

"Connor. Step out into the hallway. We need to talk."

But Stella gripped his arm like a vice. She looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes.

"Connor, I'm scared to stay in here alone. Please don't leave me."

He hesitated for one single second. His eyes flickered toward me, filled with absolute conflict.

And in that one second, whatever was left of my heart turned to ash.

I didn't wait for him. I turned around and walked out of the room by myself.

A moment later, Connor pushed the heavy wooden door open. He looked thoroughly pissed off.

"Hurry up and say it. Stella is still in there. She's terrified of you right now, and I need to go back and comfort her."

Watching him obsess over her every micro-emotion while remaining completely blind to the devastation in my life. It made my chest physically ache.

I took a step forward and blocked his path.

"Connor. That eighty thousand dollars. My mother's surgery money. Does it feel good spending it?"

He stood his ground, chin raised.

"I already told you! I used it to book the hotel and the flights! And I bought Stella a gift. Stop acting like a crazy person!"

He actually scowled at me, unleashing a barrage of accusations.

"Your mom is already out of the ICU, isn't she? She's fine. Why do you have to hold on to this like a dog with a bone?"

"Like a dog with a bone?"

A tear finally escaped, hitting the cold linoleum floor. I let out a broken laugh.

"Connor, do you even have a heart beating in your chest?"

His face turned an ugly shade of red. Driven by sheer embarrassment, he shoved me hard in the shoulder.

"Stop being so hysterical, Tara! Stella and I are childhood friends. It is my duty to take care of her family! Why are you so narrow-minded and immature?"

The force of his push sent me stumbling backward. My spine slammed hard against the corridor wall. A sharp pain radiated through my back.

But the physical pain was absolutely nothing compared to the gaping hole in my chest.

"Childhood friends?"