Olivia's rant cut off abruptly, her face falling silent.
She depended on that money, and she wasn't ready to gamble it away.
She tried to compose herself, but her eyes darted around menacingly as if trying to peel the skin from my face with her gaze.
After a pause, she forced a smile, more grotesque than weeping, and whined in a cloying tone, "Megan, did I upset you by saying you'd never get married? I'm sorry, okay? Look, I made your favorite meal to make it up to you."
She held up a bowl of spaghetti, overly eager as she handed me the fork. "Dig in! I added all your favorite toppings. And, oh, by the way, the landlord just stopped by again about the rent—it's just $3,000."
Waiting on me, huh? She had some nerve, thinking a bowl of pasta was worth three hundred bucks.
"I'm not living here anymore. You can handle the rent yourself."
Olivia's desperation spiked as she stamped her foot, yelling, "How am I supposed to afford $3,000?!"
I slammed the fork down on the table, folding my arms with an icy smirk. "How is that my problem? You always said you were lonely and needed me here. But the minute I moved in, I ended up paying for everything while you freeloaded. I'm done being your cash cow."
Her face cycled through shades of red and white, her lips trembling as tears brimmed but didn't fall, her gaze fearful.
I might have felt pity for her once.
But now, looking at that greasy, acne-ridden face, I felt my stomach turn.
She still didn't get it, her tiny eyes squeezing out a few tears, her voice cracking as she begged me not to leave.
I picked up my bags and walked out the door.
"Megan, if you leave, I'm done with you!"
I laughed coldly, stepping faster.
That's exactly what I'm hoping for!
She pushed me to the brink last time; now, I'm severing ties for good!
