There were more important things in life that deserved my energy.

On the way home, I felt an unprecedented sense of calm.

I wasn't tormented by memories of their passionate kisses.

But once I got home and finished washing up, I still struggled to sleep.

Even with sleeping pills, I couldn't find rest.

I couldn't increase the dosage anymore.

Three years of insomnia couldn't simply be cured by deciding to let go.

I used to spend countless nights watching Ethan's sleeping face to get through the long, dark hours.

Now, I would have to rely on myself.

Ethan stumbled home at three in the morning, completely drunk, calling my name incoherently at the entrance.

In the past, no matter how late he returned from socializing, I would always wait for him.

I'd help him take off his shoes, ask if he felt okay, prepare his favorite hangover remedy fruit tea, and give him a massage to help him relax.

But tonight, I did nothing.

Even after he called my name three times, I continued to lie in bed pretending to be asleep.

"Emma!"

He shouted again, his voice laced with evident anger.

I remained unmoved.

Outside, I heard the sound of hurried, unsteady footsteps.

The next moment, Ethan was in the bathroom, throwing up noisily.

The next day, he fell asleep on the bathroom floor, still in his clothes, without even changing his shoes.

I took a deep breath and kicked him hard twice.

Ethan groggily lifted his head and glanced at his watch.

"Why are you just getting up now?" he asked, bewildered.

Usually, I would wake up at five to make him a heartfelt breakfast.

Today, I had the rare luxury of sleeping in until six-thirty. Even though I had only managed a couple of hours of sleep, it was still better than staying awake all night.

He clumsily got up from the floor, ripped off his dirty clothes, and confronted me.

"Why didn't you wait for me to come home? Where's the kudzu tea? Why did you let me sleep in the bathroom all night?"

He was still drunk, and I couldn't be bothered to engage with him.

"Emma, I'm hungry."

"There's a breakfast shop downstairs. You can grab something on your way to work."

I quickly washed up and cleaned the toilet since I would need to use it too.

Ethan frowned in disbelief.

"Emma, are you still mad about last night?"

"I'm really not angry. You said it was a 'mistake,' and I believe you."

Ethan pressed his lips together, suddenly turning on the shower and drenching me with water.