He’d spend hours chatting with her in the group but couldn’t be bothered to reply to my texts. He told me I was "too much" and that my concerns were pointless.

But he remembered every detail about Jane. He knew when her time of the month was and would remind her to take it easy, even bringing her soup.

Meanwhile, he forgot mine. And when I cried from the pain, all he could say was, "Women are so dramatic."

So today, he’d skipped meeting his parents for Jane’s winter cycling dream, leaving me behind once again.

I stood in the freezing rain, staring at my phone while cheerful music played on Max’s end of the line.

Suddenly, Max seemed so... boring.

"Max," I said quietly, "did you forget I’ve been waiting for you all day at the barber shop?"

"I’ve waited for you so many times before. I’m not even mad this time—just tired."

Max didn’t care. He scoffed, sounding annoyed, "What’s the big deal? I’ve waited for you before too. We’re even now. This was just an accident—I’ll take you to meet them next time."

Next time.

I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

It’s true, Max had waited for me before. Once, after months of begging him to take me cycling, he finally agreed. I was so excited I jumped for joy and ordered a cute cycling outfit online.

But on the day of the ride, I stopped for ten minutes to grab breakfast and he left without me.

There was always a "next time" with Max.

I wanted to go to Disneyland. He said next time.

I wanted to try a popular escape room game. He said it was too expensive, so we’d do it next time.

I craved crab roe buns from the north side of town. He said we’d get them next time we passed by.

I was always waiting.

And Max was always pushing me aside.

Now, standing in the rain, miles from home, with no umbrella or taxi in sight, I made up my mind.

"Max," I said softly, "let’s break up."

I finished the sentence calmly.

Max, on the other end of the line, wasn’t really listening. He was busy talking to Jane about some movie character. Another conversation going nowhere.

Just as I was about to hang up, I heard a light “tsk” in my ear. Max had heard me after all, but he didn’t care.

“Again? When have you ever really broken up with me? In the end, you’re the one crying and begging,” he said mockingly, like a cold needle straight to my heart.

But this time, it didn’t hurt.