I Wiped Out Every Bit of Affection for Him Chapter 1

I was an ordinary girl. It took three years of relentless chasing to finally win Steve over.

After we got together, the phrase he used most was: "If you can't handle it, we can break up."

Every single time, I would swallow my pride, begging him to stay.

Until the day I returned from a business trip, and no matter how many times I entered the door code, it kept saying incorrect.

Steve stood there, shirtless, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"You remember Joe, right? The one I couldn't get back then. She came back, begging for another chance."

"She wants this apartment. Find some time to pack up and move out."

Steve watched me, terrified I would refuse to leave.

But I just kept my head down, packing my bags, feeling a strange, subconscious sense of relief.

He had no idea that at my age, I was done begging for scraps of affection.

I finally had the courage to text my mother, who had begged me to break up with him a thousand times.

"We're done. This time, it's really over."

* * *

When I got home from my business trip, I dragged my suitcase with one hand while typing the passcode with the other.

But after several attempts, the screen kept flashing: Incorrect Code.

The passcode was my birthday. There was no way I could have gotten it wrong.

Just as I bent down to try one more time, the door swung open from the inside.

Steve leaned against the doorframe, looking down at me.

Fresh out of the shower, he was shirtless, displaying his lean, muscular chest, with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

Having not seen him for over two weeks, my eyes lit up, and I instinctively threw my arms around him.

"I missed you so much. Did you miss me? Why wouldn't the passcode..."

Before I could finish, I glanced past his shoulder and realized the apartment was in complete disarray.

The decorations and soft furnishings I had spent months choosing were packed away, some piled haphazardly in the corner.

The cozy home we had shared now looked barren and cold.

I paused, asking softly, "Are we moving?"

Steve had always complained that this place was too small, mentioning several times that we should upgrade to a penthouse.

I figured he had finally made up his mind. If he wanted to move, I would go along with it. I had always been quick to compromise when it came to him.

"Which neighborhood are we moving..."

Before the words could leave my mouth, Steve wrapped his arms around me from behind with an unusual, gentle warmth.

He murmured lazily into my ear: "Not us. Just you. I've transferred the title of the Mayfair Place apartment to your name, and I've already had your things sent over there."

My fingers tightened into fists. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He turned me around to face him. There was a flicker of pity in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

I had seen that look once before, five years ago.

Back then, he looked at me like I was a fool willing to throw herself into the fire.

Now, he looked at me like a stray dog he was about to abandon.

Steve lowered his gaze. "Joe is back. She likes this apartment, and it's close to her new office."

"To be honest, if she hadn't rejected me back then, I never would have ended up with you."

"Now that she's back, we're done."

My mind went blank. It took me a long time to process his words.

Years ago, when Steve told me to choose an apartment, he offered grand penthouses in prime locations, but I fell in love with this modest place at first sight.

It wasn't huge, but the layout felt cozy.

I had spent over six months decorating it, slowly turning a blank concrete box into a warm home.

Though our relationship over the years had always been undefined and messy.

I had always believed that when Steve came back to this apartment, he belonged to me alone.

To me, this place was sacred.

He should have known. He should have understood.