I was ill. My boyfriend left to his friends like, I’m sleeping anyway.

I complained to my mom. An hour later, my father was at my place with food and medicine.

He asked me about my boyfriend. I told him.

Dad was very surprised and said, “He left you alone while you’re sick? That’s not how love works, sweetheart.”

I shrugged, trying not to cry. “He said I was just sleeping and that I’d be fine.”

Dad’s face tightened. “When your mom was sick, I canceled work. I slept on the floor beside her bed. Love means showing up.”

Hearing him say that hit me harder than I expected. I suddenly realized how low my expectations had gotten.

My boyfriend, Adrian, had always been… well, self-centered. He wasn’t cruel, but he often acted like his time was more valuable than anyone else’s. If I ever needed something, it was always “later” or “tomorrow.”

Still, I defended him. “He’s just bad at this kind of thing. He says he gets anxious around sick people.”

Dad raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Instead, he heated up the soup, sat beside me, and watched old sitcoms until I drifted to sleep.

The next day, I woke up to texts from Adrian:
“Hope you’re feeling better. Last night was epic. You should’ve seen Trevor’s new car!”

No “how are you?” No “sorry I wasn’t there.”

I stared at my phone. My chest felt tight — not from the flu, but from something deeper.

Later that afternoon, my best friend, Marissa, came by with groceries. She immediately sensed something was off.

“Adrian didn’t come?” she asked, setting the bags down.

“Nope. Out with the guys.”

Her face twisted. “This isn’t the first time he’s let you down, Nina. You deserve more.”

I hated hearing it because it was true. But admitting it out loud? That was scarier than any flu.

“People have flaws, Riss,” I whispered. “Nobody’s perfect.”

Marissa grabbed my hand. “There’s flaws, and there’s patterns.”

That night, as I scrolled through social media, I saw Adrian’s tagged photos. There he was—laughing, drinking, with his arm around some girl I didn’t recognize. Too friendly for my taste.

I screenshotted the photo and sent it to him:
“Who’s this?”

He replied after 20 minutes:
“Relax. That’s Trevor’s cousin. She just moved here.”

I stared at his message. That sinking feeling in my stomach grew heavier.

The next morning, Dad called to check in again. I told him everything. The picture. The message. The excuses.

Dad was quiet for a moment, then said gently, “Sometimes we hold on to people because we’re scared of starting over. But you’re stronger than you think, Nina.”

I cried after that call. Not because of Adrian, but because my father saw right through me.

I stayed quiet for a few days, letting things simmer. Adrian didn’t reach out much. His silence was almost louder than his words.

Then, Friday night came. Unexpectedly, Adrian showed up at my apartment with flowers.

“Hey, babe,” he smiled, like nothing was wrong. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

I opened the door halfway. “You haven’t checked in for days.”

He chuckled. “You’re tough. Besides, I’ve been swamped.”

I stared at him. “With Trevor’s cousin?”

His face changed for a split second — enough for me to catch it. “What? No. Nina, you’re being paranoid.”

I stepped aside, letting him in, but my mind was racing. His phone buzzed on the counter while he washed his hands. I wasn’t proud, but I glanced at the screen. A text from someone named Sienna:
“Last night was amazing. Can’t wait for the weekend.”

My stomach dropped.

He came back to the living room, wiping his hands. “What’s for dinner?”

I couldn’t hold it anymore. “Who’s Sienna?”

Adrian froze. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

“You’ve been seeing someone else, haven’t you?”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that. We’re just… talking.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “While I was sick in bed, you were out ‘talking’ with someone else.”

Adrian tried to defend himself, but honestly, I didn’t even hear the rest. My decision was already made.

“Get out, Adrian.”

He paused, stunned. “You’re seriously overreacting.”

I pointed to the door. “We’re done.”

Surprisingly, he left without much of a fight. And once the door shut behind him, I felt something I hadn’t felt in months—peace.

The next day, I called my dad. “I ended it.”

He didn’t say much, but I could hear the pride in his voice. “Good for you, sweetheart. You deserve someone who chooses you, every single day.”

Weeks passed. I focused on work, friends, and healing. And slowly, the ache faded. One evening, Marissa and I sat on my balcony, sipping tea.

“You okay?” she asked.

I smiled softly. “Yeah. You know what’s funny? I thought losing him would break me. But it feels like I got myself back.”

She grinned. “That’s what you call growth, my friend.”

Sometimes, we hold on to people out of fear — fear of being alone, fear of starting over, fear of admitting we were wrong. But life has a way of teaching us that self-respect always outweighs comfort. Love isn’t proven when everything’s easy. It’s proven when things get hard — and who chooses to stay.

If you’ve ever been in a situation like mine, know this: choosing yourself is never the wrong choice.

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