In the past few days, Rhys's aura of resentment has been growing stronger.
I pretended not to notice and went about my usual routine.
But every now and then, I could feel his resentful gaze.
One day, when the landlady came by to deliver some cakes, she asked me with a smile, "Paige, I heard you're dating someone? How's his character? How does he look? What's his family background like? And most importantly, how does he compare to your roommate Rhys?"
Heard?
It was obvious who had told her—Rhys, that big mouth!
After making up a bunch of nonsense, I ran into the bedroom, grabbed a bank card, and told her that I had broken a vase on the cabinet and wasn't sure if this money would be enough to cover it.
She was stunned for a moment, then laughed and said, "Oh, those are all fake. No need to pay for it. If it's broken, it's broken."
Before she left, she even said it was fine that it broke and told me not to worry about it. I couldn't believe it.
Fake?
I looked at the bank card in my hand and kissed it suddenly. I still remember the dream I had the night I made the decision—several bank cards were chasing after me, shouting desperately as they ran:
"Aren't you the one who said if you couldn't have both money and a man, you'd choose money? What about now? Are you choosing to abandon us? Paige... Paige..."
After putting the bank card away and coming out, I saw Rhys had returned from work. As soon as he entered the door, he spoke in a completely sarcastic tone:
"So? Haven't moved in with your new boyfriend yet?"
I held back, trying not to get angry.
He continued, "Better not find someone like me again. Won't spoil you, won't take care of you, won't..."
Unable to tolerate it any longer, I cut him off and met his gaze, "Rhys, aren't you being childish? He's way better than you—more gentle, more reliable, richer, better at taking care of people, and even more handsome than you. Don't worry, once he comes back from his business trip, I'll move in with him, hmph!"
His eyes seemed to turn red with anger as he grabbed my arm, "Except for that last one, I've learned everything else now. Why don't you like me?"
That question was almost laughable, "Aren't you the one who said not to beg you to get back together? That even if I cried, you wouldn't soften?"
"Do you always do what I say? I said I didn't agree to the breakup, but you still broke up with me, didn't you?" He stared at me with extreme grievance, not blinking.
We stared at each other in silence, and just when I couldn't hold on any longer, he was the first to back down.
He let go of my hand and went into the bathroom.
I stood there in a daze, replaying his words in my head, thinking that I had guessed right after all.
Since that argument, Rhys started drinking at home.
He didn't eat properly, didn't sleep well, and didn't go to work properly—just spent his days drinking in the living room.
It made me furious to watch. I told him to stop drinking, but he wouldn't listen. If I took his alcohol away, he would just buy more.
"Don't bother with me. No one would care if I drank myself to death. Some people might even laugh and say, 'Finally, no one's bothering her anymore...'"
He said this and took another swig of his drink.
I watched him as tears streamed down my face, saying nothing.
A minute later, he threw the bottle aside and yelled, "Fine, I won't drink. But why are you crying? Don't go blaming me for bullying you again."
I choked back my tears and asked, "Did you read the message I sent you that night? Do you even know why I wanted to break up with you?"
He frowned, thinking for a moment, "I just skimmed it, only saw the part where you said you wanted to break up."
I bit my lip, stood up, and snapped, "Rhys, you jerk! Go ahead and drink yourself silly!"
