I’m Letting Go Of Those Seven Years

1 After seven grueling years longdistance, I quit my job and returned to the apartment I shared with Monica.

I entered the passcode three times, each attempt flashing bright red error lights. The door opened, yet my girlfriend wasn’t there—only my best friend Cameron.

He wore Monica’s silk robe, its collar slipping open to reveal his bare chest. “Gav?

You’re home?” He leaned casually against the doorframe with an easy smile. “I fought badly with my roommate, so I’ve been crashing at your place for a while.” Monica stepped out from the bathroom, toweling damp hair, drawn by the noise. “Stop blocking the door.” She shot me an annoyed glance. “Cameron’s using the master bedroom.

You’ll take the guest room tonight.” Her expression turned icy, yet her inner thoughts echoed sharp in my mind. [Did you grow fond of another person after all this time apart?] [Gav, tell him this is our home.

He can’t stay here.] [Fight with us. Prove you still love me.] She’d acted this way all seven years. If I texted her back late, she’d grab dinner with Cameron.

If I couldn’t fly home for weekends, she’d let him spend the night. Before, I’d question them, shout, act out the jealousy her mind craved.

Now I spotted a men’s towel slung over her shoulders, men’s briefs hanging on the balcony rack to dry. I lost all desire to argue. I stepped backward and gripped my suitcase handle.

A twoperson home couldn’t fit three. I was finished.... Cameron reached out and grabbed my luggage handle. "Gav, it is just a locked door.

Are you seriously mad about this?" "Don't overthink it, man.

I just couldn't remember the old passcode, so Monica changed it to my birthday to make it easier." Monica let out a mocking scoff. "He is just being overly sensitive.

It is just a string of numbers. Why couldn't I change it?" She looked entirely dismissive, but her telepathic voice was growing increasingly frantic. [Say something!

Tell him that was the date of our anniversary. Tell me I am never allowed to change it!] [Gavin, why aren't you reacting?!] I did not say a single word.

Cameron leaned against the wall and faked a yawn. "Are you coming in or not?

We are going to sleep." I reached into my pocket, pulled out my physical copy of the apartment key, and set it on the shoe cabinet by the door. "No thanks.

You two get some sleep." Monica froze. "If you are not coming in, then get the hell out!" She violently slammed the door in my face. I stumbled backward from the force of it.

My bag slipped from my shoulder, hitting the floor. A stack of faded train tickets spilled out across the hallway tiles.

The one sitting right on top was dated exactly seven years ago. On the day I was transferred to another state, Monica walked me to the station.

The final boarding call echoed three times before she finally let go of my waist. "Go, Gav. Don't look back." She said it with a brave smile.

But in that exact second, I heard her inner voice for the very first time. [I cannot bear to let you go.] [But I cannot hold you back.] [I love you.

You have to wait for me.] I stopped right at the ticket gate, tears instantly blurring my vision.

After we separated, I took that exhausting fivehour train ride over and over again. Even if I had to work until midnight, I would rush to the station just to see her face.

That was until the month I worked two days straight without sleep, collapsed in the office, and missed my train to see her.

When I woke up in the hospital, my first instinct was to call her.

It took seven tries before she finally picked up. "I am eating with Cameron." Her tone was exceptionally freezing. "Why are you crying?

You didn't have time for me, so I am not allowed to hang out with him?" "He is your best buddy, isn't he?

With him watching over me, what are you so worried about?" That night, Cameron posted two photos on his social media.

Korean BBQ, neon signs at a dive bar, and the empty city streets at three in the morning.

Meanwhile, I lay entirely alone in a sterile hospital bed, an IV dripping into my arm all night. A tear fell onto the old ticket in my hand.

I tried to wipe it away, but the ink just smeared.

The apartment door suddenly clicked open again. "If you are so reluctant to leave, then drag yourself inside." Seeing the tears on my face, Monica's expression softened considerably. "How many days are you staying for this vacation?" I did not tell her that I had already quit my job.

There was no point anymore. I had given up my career, my promotions, everything, just to end this brutal sevenyear longdistance run.

But she and Cameron were already playing house. Cameron walked out of the bathroom holding a dry towel. He naturally draped it over her head and began drying her hair.

Monica did not dodge him. She just lowered her head and let him do it. Her inner voice constantly screamed that she loved me.

But her body was completely accustomed to Cameron's presence. There was no place left for me in this house. The stack of tickets remained scattered on the floor.

I did not bother picking them up. I just turned and walked straight toward the elevator.

Monica let out a cold laugh. "Gavin, if you walk out of this building today, we are officially done." I pressed the elevator button without looking back.

Her inner voice instantly spiraled into chaos. [Gav, don't go.

I just wanted to see you get jealous.] [Just turn around, and I will make it up to you.] The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside. [Please, don't walk away.] I heard her.

But this time, I did not stop. The metal doors slowly slid shut, entirely blocking out her face and cutting off the sound of her thoughts.

Right at that moment, my phone buzzed in my pocket. "Gavin, your position at headquarters is still open.

Have you made up your mind?" I wiped my face and cleared my throat. "I will be there to report tomorrow morning, Ms. Morgan." I booked a cheap hotel room for the night.

Early the next morning, a call from the property management office woke me up. "Mr. Davis, the large shipping boxes you mailed over are piling up in the lobby.

We already have residents complaining. Please come handle them immediately." When I packed up my life, I genuinely believed I was coming home for good.

Seven years of my belongings had been boxed up and shipped ahead of time. Now, they had arrived. But just like me, those boxes no longer had a home.

I rushed back to Monica's apartment complex in the pouring rain. When I got to the lobby, the space was completely empty.

Cameron was walking toward the elevators in a pair of casual slippers. "Gav? What took you so long?" "Those boxes were blocking the whole entrance.

They were in the way." He casually pointed a thumb toward the outdoor dumpsters. "Monica told me you two broke up.

She said your stuff was just garbage now, so I did you a favor and threw it all out." A loud ringing exploded in my ears.

I spun around and sprinted into the storm toward the trash collection area. The cardboard had completely dissolved in the rain.

My clothes, my books, my entire life was scattered across the wet asphalt, soaking in filthy puddle water. I fell to my knees, digging frantically until I found my small plush dog.

It was bloated with dirty rainwater, and one of its button eyes had fallen off. It was the very first gift Monica had ever given me.

For seven years, whenever the distance became too much to bear, that little dog was the only thing keeping me company.

Last year, I was in a terrible car accident and fractured my leg. She had already booked her flight to come see me. But the night before her flight, Cameron sprained his ankle.

Over the phone, she only gave me one rushed sentence. "I will come see you when he is fully recovered." The pain in my leg kept me awake for three straight days.

I could only sit in the dark, clutching that little dog until the sun came up. I pulled the ruined toy into my chest, and my eyes landed on a pair of cracked leather shoes nearby.

I bought them six months ago. That was the day a coworker deliberately deleted my entire project presentation.

I had crouched in the garden outside my office building, my eyes completely red. I called Monica over and over, but she never picked up.

She finally called back at two in the morning. "What is your problem now?" "Cameron got into a fight with his roommate, and I just finished driving him back to my place to calm him down." The very next day, I walked into a mall and bought those leather shoes.

I told myself, Stand firm, Gavin. If no one is coming to walk you home, you have to walk yourself. For seven years, I hustled back and forth, surviving entirely on my own.

These items were the only things that kept me grounded.

And now, they were rotting in a dumpster. "Cameron, what gave you the right to touch my things?!" Monica's voice echoed from behind me. "Gavin, why the hell are you screaming at him?!" She stood in front of Cameron, shielding him with an umbrella. "It is just a few boxes of junk.

Who cares if he threw it out?" Cameron looked at me, his eyes turning perfectly red and misty. "I thought you didn't want any of this anymore." Seeing the total devastation scattered across the pavement, Monica's face darkened significantly.

Her inner voice smashed into my brain. [Why are there so many boxes?] [I thought Gav was only coming back for a weekend trip?] [That little dog... he actually kept it all these years?] Her gaze dropped to the muddy plush toy in my arms.

Yet, the words coming out of her mouth were dripping with pure venom. "We broke up, and you still shipped your junk to my house.

If your stuff isn't garbage, then what is it?" I held the dog tighter and slowly looked up at her. "My things are not garbage, Monica." "You are." The rain heavily blurred my vision as a crowd of neighbors began gathering under the awning.

A few of them whispered loudly. "Hey, isn't that the young couple from the sixth floor?" "Yeah, they have been living together for like six months now.

I always see them grocery shopping together." Someone pointed a finger at me, their voice laced with absolute disgust. "Then who is that guy?

Some crazy exboyfriend causing a scene?" "Probably the other man. Got kicked out and now he is digging through the trash.

How pathetic." My already numb heart violently seized in my chest. So they had been living together for half a year.

For six entire months, they bought groceries together, walked home together, and shared an umbrella.

They were the pictureperfect married couple in the eyes of everyone in this building.

Meanwhile, I was the one who had been in a legitimate, public sevenyear relationship with her. Yet I was standing here in the rain, labeled as the homewrecker.

Monica's face turned incredibly ugly, but she did not say a single word to defend me.

Cameron gently tugged at the sleeve of her jacket. "Let's just go upstairs, Monica." She remained silent for a few agonizing seconds.

Then, holding the umbrella over his head, she escorted him through the glass lobby doors. I stood in the freezing rain, watching their figures disappear.

Her telepathic voice grew fainter and fainter. [Gav is not the other man.] [He is the love of my life.] I stopped listening. The storm intensified.

I crouched back down beside the dumpster. I tore through the soggy cardboard, desperately searching for the antique pocket watch my grandmother had left me before she passed.

But even after tearing every box apart, I could not find it. The freezing rain finally took its toll. My vision suddenly went completely black.

When I regained consciousness, I was lying in a somewhat unfamiliar guest bedroom.

Cameron was sitting by the edge of the mattress, his eyes puffy and red. "Gav, you passed out out there." "Monica and I had to carry you upstairs." He reached out and tucked the blanket around my shoulders. "Don't worry about what those neighbors said.

I already went down and cleared everything up for you." "I told them you were not the other man." "I told them we were brothers, and you were just moving in to live with me." "But since this is Monica's apartment, and she is my girlfriend now, the whole thing just caused a big misunderstanding." He spoke with such profound sincerity, looking like a devoted friend trying to save my reputation.

But my mind instantly flashed back to our college days. When my financial aid grant was stolen by a manipulative classmate, Cameron marched straight into the Dean's office with me.

I despise people who steal what isn't theirs and then play the innocent victim! Back then, he was even angrier than I was.

But looking at him now, claiming Monica was his girlfriend with that exact same innocent look on his face, made my stomach churn. Cameron used to hate Monica.

Whenever her name came up, he would curse her out without hesitation. But somewhere along the line, that hatred vanished. He started calling her by sweet nicknames.

He started taking her out to dinners and going on weekend trips alone with her. It wasn't that I was completely blind to his boundarycrossing. But he was my best friend.

And Monica constantly gaslit me, telling me I was just being paranoid.

Her telepathic voice would constantly echo in my mind. [Gav, you are the only one I love.] So I forced myself, time and time again, to swallow the sickening knot in my stomach.

But today, I was done pretending to be blind. "Drop the act, Cameron." I gripped the edge of the mattress and forced myself to sit up. "Where are my degree certificates?" I had to report to headquarters today.

But all my backup photocopies had been destroyed in the rain. I used to treat this apartment as my true home, so I kept all my original, official documents locked in a drawer here.

Cameron blinked in surprise. "I have no idea. You should look around." I ignored him, threw off the blanket, and stood up. I walked straight into the master bedroom.

It was his room now. But hanging inside the closet were several of Monica's expensive dresses.

My few remaining clothes had been shoved into the darkest corner, wrinkled beyond repair.

Cameron trailed behind me, offering a quiet, timid explanation. "Sometimes she has a little too much to drink, and she ends up falling asleep in my bed." I did not want to know what they did in this room.

I only wanted my certificates. But when I pulled open the nightstand drawer, there were no document folders inside. There were only a few boxes of condoms.

And one of the boxes was missing a foil packet compared to the last time I was here. My hand froze on the drawer handle. I forced myself to look away.

On the small desk by the window, there was an uncleaned greasy takeout container.

Cameron suddenly let out a small gasp, as if he had just remembered something. "Gav, is this the certificate thing you were looking for?" He lifted the plastic takeout box.

Sitting directly underneath it was my original university degree. The thick leather cover was entirely coated in red chili oil.

Cameron bit his bottom lip, looking incredibly guilty. "I am so sorry.

I was eating spicy noodles in my room last night, and the cover looked sturdy, so I just grabbed it to use as a coaster." I snatched it out of his hand and ripped it open.

The actual diploma paper inside was completely saturated with grease.

Even the official embossed seal was ruined, reeking of stale garlic and chili oil. "Gavin, stop being such an ungrateful prick!" Monica stormed into the bedroom, immediately stepping in front of Cameron to protect him. "Cameron was nice enough to bring you inside so you wouldn't freeze to death.

It is just a piece of paper. Are you seriously going to hit him over that?" I didn't bother defending myself. I just stared down at the completely voided document in my hands.

My mind was racing with one single thought. How was I going to fix this in time? Suddenly, a familiar ringtone broke the silence. It was my phone.

But the sound was coming directly from Cameron's hand. By the time I ripped the phone away from him, the call had already been disconnected.

Glowing on the screen was a text from Ms. Morgan, sent exactly ten minutes ago. The deadline is here. Why aren't you at the office? I had never even seen that message.

But right below it was a reply sent from my number. I voluntarily withdraw from the transfer.

I snapped my head up and glared at Cameron. "Who gave you the right to send messages from my phone?!" There was not a single trace of apology on his face. "Gav, I was doing it for your own good." I didn't have time to interrogate him.

I immediately dialed Morgan's number. "Morgan, I didn't send that message.

I am not withdrawing." The line was dead silent for a few terrifying seconds. "The HR department is already processing the runnerup." "Gavin, if you really want to fight for this, you have exactly thirty minutes to get to my office." I hung up the phone, turned around, and sprinted for the front door.

Cameron chased after me. "Gav, stop being so impulsive!" "If you go see that Morgan woman right now, Monica is going to get the wrong idea!" Hearing that, Monica's expression instantly darkened.

She followed us into the hall. "What Morgan woman?" Cameron faked a terrified shudder. "It is that female director who kept the headquarters position open for him." "She promised him that if he came to headquarters, she would personally arrange his title, his housing, and his bonuses." "I rejected the offer for him because I didn't want him falling for a scam!" Monica's face turned violently pale.

She lunged forward and blocked the front door. "Gavin, are you throwing away all your pride just to get a free apartment?" "Why are you rushing out of here?

Are you trying to prove how much you can sell yourself for? Going to sleep with your boss to get ahead?" I glanced at my watch.

Twentyseven minutes left. "Get out of my way." I shoved past her and ran for the elevators. But the digital display showed the elevator was under maintenance.

I cursed under my breath and bolted for the emergency stairwell. Cameron started fake crying at the top of his lungs. "Monica, stop him!

What if he gets manipulated and something terrible happens to him?!" I had barely made it down two steps.

Monica lunged down the stairs and clamped her hand around my wrist like a vice. "Gavin, you are not going anywhere today." I violently yanked my arm, trying to break her grip. "Monica, you have absolutely no right to control me!" Her face twisted in anger, and she dug her nails into my skin, pulling harder.

The sharp pain made me instinctively step backward. But there was nothing behind me except empty air. My foot slipped off the edge of the concrete step.

A split second later, my body violently smashed onto the landing below, my back colliding heavily with the cinderblock wall. My vision exploded into white noise.

An excruciating, blinding pain completely shattered my consciousness.

Monica froze at the top of the stairs, paralyzed. [Gav!] [I didn't mean to do that!] I couldn't even tell which part of my body was bleeding. It hurt. It hurt so incredibly much.

But the sharpest pain wasn't coming from the broken bones.

It was the realization that I had dragged my luggage across the country, thinking I was coming home, only to find another man living my life.

It was the memory of kneeling in a dumpster, digging out a rotting plush dog. I lay there, my eyes wide open, completely unable to force a single word past my lips.

Monica stumbled down the stairs, dropping to her knees beside me. "Gav..." [Get up. Please don't scare me. Don't just lie there like that.] [I really didn't mean it.

I was just terrified you didn't love me anymore.] [If you don't love me, I would rather die.] She reached out, her trembling fingers hovering over my bruised face.

But the very next second, her entire body went completely rigid. For the first time in seven years, my inner voice transmitted directly into her mind. [Monica.]