My name is Paige Tapia, and I'm a comic artist. Today marks the fifty-first day since I broke up with Rhys and the seventeenth day of us sharing an apartment.
After several fruitless attempts to communicate with Rhys Harmon, I posted online:
"My ex-boyfriend keeps thinking I want to get back together. What should I do?"
The top response: "Go find another man!"
I slammed my laptop shut, thought it over, and found the idea brilliant!
I pulled out my phone and contacted a close friend, asking if she knew any men I could meet.
She handed me a business card without hesitation, "We're good friends. Here's one ready-made, go flirt!"
I steeled myself and added him on the phone, but he didn't accept right away, so I tossed my phone aside and got back to drawing.
I drew until after six in the evening, growing frustrated with the muscle lines of the male lead that I just couldn't get right.
I stretched, opened a bottle of cola, and sat on the living room sofa as I heard the faint sound of water running in the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, the water stopped.
I pretended to watch TV, but my attention was fully focused on the bathroom door, waiting for Rhys to come out. After all, his muscle lines were nearly perfect.
Finally, the door opened, and Rhys... walked out wearing a shirt.
Me:...?
Did he change his habits?
Frustrated, I quietly turned up the air conditioning while he ate.
But before he could break a sweat, I was already overheating. My curly hair clung to my neck like a scarf, my inner shirt was soaked, and even my outer layer was damp with sweat.
Catching sight of him calmly eating, I gritted my teeth and turned the temperature up another degree.
Quickly tying up my hair, I leaned back on the sofa, quietly waiting.
"Paige..."
"Do whatever you want, don't mind me," I immediately turned towards him and blurted out.
He closed his eyes and then reopened them, wiped his sweat with a tissue, and raised an eyebrow. "If you're trying to seduce me, you don't have to pick this moment. No matter how tempting you look, I still need to eat. Or maybe..."
He paused, his gaze sliding over me, and added, "Ahem, I don't think this is right, considering we've already broken up."
I somehow understood what he was thinking and hurriedly called out to him as he walked towards the kitchen, "Rhys, listen to my excuse—no, I mean, listen to my explanation!"
"No need to explain, just give it up."
Me:...
In my life, I have two great loves: money and men.
So, while making money, I also pursued Rhys.
In my sophomore year, after achieving financial freedom, I passed by the sports field and instantly fell for the guy who broke the basketball hoop's glass with a shot. From then on, he was constantly on my mind, day and night.
Eventually, I used money to seek help and launched a full-scale pursuit, successfully winning Rhys over.
After getting together, we did everything normal couples should do, and a lot of things normal couples probably shouldn't.
In our senior year, we broke up, and I was the one who initiated it.
The cause of it all boiled down to a cup of hot water.
I sent a message saying that my stomach hurt during my period, and I got angry after receiving a perfunctory response from him half an hour later.
I held back my anger and asked if he had been playing games just now, and he said yes.
After a while, he asked, "Are you mad?"
"No."
"That's good, you get some rest early. I'll take a shower and go to bed too. Goodnight, love you!"
Lying in bed, I felt not only my lower abdomen, but my heart, liver, spleen, stomach, and kidneys all ached. After an hour of writing, I finally finished a long text and sent it to him.
I detailed everything from our first meeting to all the unhappy moments after we started dating, including the 186 times he made me cry, the 68 bottles of toner, and the 41 bottles of serum he broke.
Rhys only had his looks going for him—he wasn't attentive, gentle, or mature. When I counted, he barely had any good qualities.
Given that, I figured we might as well break up. I had money. I could find someone completely different from him. Why should I put up with his nonsense?
I didn't sleep at all that night, and it wasn't until around ten the next morning that I got his call. His voice was a bit hoarse.
"Paige, you want to break up? I don't agree."
"Your objection is invalid."
