“It’s exactly like that,” Diego replied, because he wasn’t stupid. It was right there in front of him. How was this the same woman who gone to their old shared home together and curled up with him all night, holding hands, still in love even if it was all over? This was different. It was like the adjustment period was over for her, like the love was done, like Diego was irrelevant.

He felt small, and humiliated, and very alone. “Because if I was happy, you wouldn’t have to feel guilty. Look, whatever. We’re broken up. You’re entitled to move on. I shouldn’t be here. I should’ve called ahead. I won’t come back.”