He Always Chose My Boss Over Me

For the ninety-ninth time, Austin drove straight to my boss Brooke's mansion.

And just like every other time, he blamed me.

Why didn't you remind me we missed the turn?

Whatever. Since we're already here, I might as well drop these fruits off at Brooke's place.

Before I could answer, he grabbed the basket of organic fruit we'd bought for my parents and headed straight for Brooke's front door.

I didn't stop him.

After all, this had become our routine.

When we were supposed to pick up my wedding dress, he ended up driving to the golf club where Brooke was playing.

When I was burning up with a high fever, he took my medicine to the bar where Brooke was having a business dinner.

Even on my birthday, he brought Brooke to what was supposed to be our date.

"Brooke's been under a lot of pressure lately," he'd said. "You're her assistant. Try to be more understanding."

But he had completely forgotten.

Today was my very last day at the company.

It was also the day I was packing up and moving out of our shared apartment.

Since he loved being there so much, he could stay and be Brooke's loyal watchdog for the rest of his life.

***

###

I locked the car doors, sat in the drivers seat, and started the engine.

Just then, an email notification popped up on my phone. My resignation was officially approved.

HR emailed me:

*Wishing you all the best in your future endeavors, Chloe.*

I stared at the confirmation screen and typed back a simple, *Thank you.*

A second later, my phone vibrated.

It was a voice message from Austin.

"Where did you drive the car? Get back here right now."

I paused.

Looking at our chat history, there was a long list of unread messages from me that he had ignored. This rare moment of him taking the initiative to text me felt almost surreal.

But before I could even process it, his next message popped up:

"Go buy a set of electric screwdrivers and bring them over. Brooke doesnt have any here."

I stared at the screen for a few seconds.

So, he hadn't suddenly realized I wasn't behind him.

He only noticed my absence because he needed someone to run his errands.

I scrolled up through our chat history. Every single message from him was about Brooke.

*Give that perfume set you brought back from Paris to Brooke. Ill buy you a new one later.*

*Brooke said she wanted Japanese food. I already used your card to book a table for her.*

Austins texts to me were always demands.

He made the decisions, and he never once thought to ask for my opinion.

Then there was the most recent message from a rainy day. I had texted him asking if he could pick me up from the subway station.

He replied: *Im out meeting clients right now. Just take an Uber.*

But five minutes later, Brooke posted a photo on her Instagram.

An umbrella was tilted entirely over her, shielding her as she got into the passenger seat of a car.

*Almost got stuck in the storm. Thank God for my personal chauffeur,* her caption read.

I knew the car's interior all too well. It was Austin's.

Back then, I kept telling myself that he was just trying to help me build a good relationship with my boss. I thought he was doing it for my career.

But my constant understanding only made him push the boundaries further.

This time, I didn't reply.

While I was packing up my desk at the office, another text from Austin came in:

"Why aren't you back yet? Brooke wanted French food, so I took her to the restaurant first. Just Uber over and meet us."

This wasnt the first time.

Whenever we made plans to eat out, if I was even slightly late because of work or traffic, Austin would lose his temper and blame me.

He never cared about my feelings.

"Brooke is your boss. Shes under a lot of pressure, so its normal for her to have a bad temper. Whats the big deal if she snaps at you a little? Stop being so dramatic."

*Stop being so dramatic.*

That was also what he said when a pipe burst in my apartment, flooding the entire place. I had called him in a panic.

And he had said: "I don't have time to deal with that. Just call a plumber yourself. Stop being so dramatic."

So, I learned to dry the carpets, change the light bulbs, and fix things on my own. I slowly learned to stop relying on him.

But when it came to Brooke, he was a completely different person.

"Brooke is always so busy with work. If she needs help around her house, I'll just handle it. Since she lives so close to Chloe, its on my way anyway."

I couldn't understand.

Why was helping me "being dramatic," but helping Brooke was "just on his way"?

I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and texted him back: *You guys go ahead. Im busy.*

It took him an hour to reply:

*Are you throwing a tantrum again? Chloe, grow up. Stop acting like a child.*

I used to throw tantrums.

Last winter, I had a terrible fever in the middle of the night. Shivering under the blankets, I called him and asked him to bring me some medicine.

He told me he was on his way to Brookes party because Brooke had had too much to drink, and he needed to bring her painkillers and electrolyte drinks.

I told him I was really sick too.

He stayed silent for two seconds before saying, "You can still make phone calls, so it can't be that bad. Just call an Uber to the ER. Its a twenty-minute drive. Hang in there."

That was the first time I felt I couldn't take it anymore.

He was my boyfriend, yet I was never his priority.

I broke up with him that night.

But he didn't even argue. He just blocked my number.

He knew I loved him too much. He knew I couldn't leave him.

So, he let me cry for two days straight until my tears ran dry. And then, like a fool, I went back to him.

Since then, I had never thrown another tantrum.

But this time was different.

I wasn't throwing a tantrum. I was done.

***

###

I got back to my apartment.

Packed cardboard boxes were stacked up in the hallway, and the living room looked completely empty.

Only then did I realize that after seven years of dating, there were barely any traces of Austin in my apartment.

Just a pair of dusty slippers and a coffee mug he used once.

And I was the one who bought both of them.

He had never given me a decent gift.

Yet, for Brooke's birthday, he went out of his way to order a massive bouquet of her favorite red roses.

When I asked him about it, he always said, "Those materialistic things are pointless. Real partners don't care about fancy gifts."

I had questioned him. I had expressed my frustration.

But he simply replied, "I only buy gifts for your boss to make you look good in front of her."

I laughed at my own stupidity.

My phone vibrated. It was my mom calling.

"Hey, Chloe. Have you and Austin decided on a wedding date yet?"

Not long ago, our parents had met.

My parents were very happy with him, but when it came to setting a date, Austin said he wanted to focus on his career first and that there was no rush.

At the time, though disappointed, I tried to be understanding of his career goals.

But now, I only felt relieved.

If a man constantly drove his car to another woman's house before marriage, how could I ever trust him to come home to me after?

"Mom, we're not getting married. I'm breaking up with him."

My moms voice instantly grew tense. "Why? Did he cheat on you?"

"No. I just realized we're not right for each other."

Silence fell over the line.

After all, everyone knew I had loved Austin desperately for seven years.

I was the one who chased him first.

To get close to him, I joined the outdoor hiking club he liked and hung out at his favorite coffee shops just to "bump into" him.

After graduation, he got a job offer in Los Angeles.

Without a second thought, I turned down a prestigious recommendation from my professor and took an assistant job at Brooke's company just to be in the same city as him.

My mom was so angry she didn't speak to me for three days, but I only told her, "Mom, if I lose him, I'll regret it for the rest of my life."

Back then, Brooke even joked with me:

"Chloe, you are completely whipped. Hes got you locked down."

Brooke used to be a good boss. She looked out for me, and we got along like friends.

But no one expected that she would eventually enjoy my boyfriend's undivided attention without a single shred of guilt.

I opened Instagram and saw Brooke's latest post. It was a video of her romantic dinner.

The location was tagged at the high-end French restaurant I had mentioned to Austin dozens of times.

The candles flickered, the plates were artfully arranged, and a live piano played in the background.

Every time I asked Austin to take me there, he would say, "We're saving up for a wedding, Chloe. Can you be more practical? A single dinner there costs hundreds of dollars. We can have a candlelit dinner at home."

But now, just because Brooke wanted French food, he took her to the exact restaurant I had been dreaming of.

I sank onto the couch, feeling utterly exhausted.

Last year, when I bought a heavy wardrobe, I called Austin to ask if he could help me assemble it.

He said he had a team-building event and told me to hire a tasker.

To save money, I spent the entire night assembling it myself by watching YouTube tutorials. I ended up cutting my hand on a sharp screw.

Yet, when Brooke bought new cabinets, Austin took a half-day off from work to help her.

"Its heavy lifting, and Brooke is living alone. As her friend, I should help out," he had said.

I remembered watching him sweat as he worked on her furniture, realizing he looked like a complete stranger to me.

It wasn't that he didn't know how to assemble furniture.

He just didn't want to waste his time on me.