A perfect lover

Ethan and his friends all had the same idealized crush. She was perfect, and after five years, I realized I couldn't even compare to her little toe. So, in front of his friends, I said it first: "We're breaking up." I thought I was setting him free, but it turned out he was the one who regretted it.

1.

After Ethan had ushered the last of his drunken friends into a cab, I finally spoke. "I'm going home to pack my things."

The guy, already halfway in the taxi, yelled back, "Who do you think you are? Now that Olivia's back, you think you can embarrass Ethan like this?"

Olivia Hayes. “Olivia” to his friends. The undisputed goddess in Ethan’s circle, the moon to his tide. And the bane of my existence.

I laughed humorlessly. So everyone knew, except me. They'd all been playing along, letting me make a fool of myself.

Cars whizzed past, their headlights blurring. I was suddenly reminded of a night years ago, an argument about Olivia – on Christmas Eve, no less – that ended with Ethan kicking me out of his car. The stream of headlights then and now seemed to merge. I felt a pang of regret. Why hadn't I broken up with him then?

Looking at Ethan, I said firmly, "I'm serious. We're done."

I had rehearsed this moment countless times in the past few months, agonizing over the right words, the right time. But the actual act was surprisingly easy, like deciding where to order takeout.

My friend later told me I’d been the picture of composure, a graceful exit worthy of a soap opera star. We clinked our iced lattes in a celebratory toast.

"But..." she hesitated, "Ethan didn’t seem surprised at all. It wasn’t like a real breakup, more like… a performance."

I replayed the scene in my mind. Ethan, who usually watched me with a careful, almost nervous attentiveness, had seemed relieved. He even asked if I needed help moving my stuff. I knew him so well; I could read his every frown. But his reaction to my breaking up with him was… almost triumphant.

I shrugged, a small laugh escaping my lips. Of course, I knew where his confidence came from. Since we were kids, I’d been the one chasing after him, the one hopelessly devoted, the one always apologizing after our countless fights, crawling back every single time.

I'd cried wolf too many times. If I were him, I'd assume I’d come running back again.

He just didn't know that even I, with all my misplaced devotion, had finally run out of steam. I didn’t know where to begin explaining, so I summarized it in one sentence. "Olivia's back."

2.

Olivia was back. And no one, not a single person in our shared circle, had thought to tell me. Not that it mattered. All that mattered was that Ethan knew.

The realization hit me as I saw them together at the mall. It was Valentine's Day, our fifth anniversary. I’d booked a table at this restaurant months in advance, planning a surprise. That morning, as I tied his tie, I'd asked him to have dinner with me.

Eight hours earlier, Ethan had been distant, preoccupied. "Can't,"...