She Said: “I’m Not Cutting Off My Ex Just Because You’re Insecure.” “Fair Point,” I Said. Accepted Amsterdam—The Position I’d Declined Three Times For Her. She Realized I Was Serious When She Showed Up At My Apartment To “Work Things Out.” The New Tenant Answered The Door.

Part 2

Maya did not call that night. She sent one text near midnight.

When you’re done sulking, we can talk.

I looked at it while sitting on my bedroom floor beside a half-packed suitcase. For the first time, the message did not make me anxious. It made me certain.

The next morning, I spoke with HR. By Monday, the relocation package was active. By Wednesday, a moving company was scheduled. By Friday, I had given notice on my apartment.

I did not hide. I simply stopped explaining my life to someone who had made clear she would rather misunderstand me than respect me.

Maya noticed on day four.

Why are you being distant?

I’m busy.

Too busy for your girlfriend?

I stared at the word girlfriend. It looked strange now, like a label left on an empty jar.

We need to talk in person, I wrote.

She came over that evening wearing the leather jacket I loved and the expression she used when she expected an apology.

“I hope you’re calmer now,” she said.

“I am.”

“Good. Because I can’t keep doing this jealousy thing.”

“I accepted Amsterdam.”

Silence.

Her face shifted through confusion, disbelief, and then anger.

“You what?”

“The position.”

“The one you declined?”

“Yes.”

“For me.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re throwing that in my face?”

“No. I’m correcting a mistake.”

She sat down slowly.

“You can’t just decide that without me.”

“I asked you for a boundary. You answered.”

“I said I wouldn’t cut off a friend.”

“You said you wouldn’t cut off your ex because I was insecure. That is different.”

Maya crossed her arms.

“So what, you’re moving across the world to punish me?”

“I’m moving because I have bent my future around a relationship that keeps making room for another man.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She was good at tears. Not fake exactly, but selective. Tears arrived when consequences did, rarely when harm happened.

“I love you,” she said.

“I believe you love having me.”

That one hurt her. I saw it.

“You’re being cruel.”

“I’m being honest.”

She left angry, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame. Ten minutes later, Aaron called me.

I did not know he had my number.

“Man,”

he said, awkwardly,

“I think you and Maya should talk. She’s really upset.”

I almost laughed.

“Do you understand how insane it is that you’re calling me about my relationship with her?”

He went quiet.

“I’m not your co-parent,” I said.

“I’m not your understudy. Do not call me again.”

Then I blocked him.

That was the first boundary in two years that actually held.