The Hopeless Romantic

The wind whipped snowflakes, stinging my face. I stood at the apartment entrance, wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. The door slammed shut behind me with a bang, shaking the hallway motion-sensor lights as they flickered on and off. Howard Lincoln's voice was still ringing in my ears: "You can't get along with my mom, this life can't go on—get away from us!" I clenched the edge of my clothes, my knuckles turning white. Three years—since graduating from college and moving to this city with him—I washed clothes, cooked meals, and scrimped every penny. His mom said I had a low EQ, so I learned to make soup and brought it over. He said he wanted to save money to buy a house, so I handed over my entire salary for him to manage. In the end, all I got was that da*n "get away from us." My phone vibrated in my pocket—it was my mom calling. I didn't dare answer, afraid I'd break down the moment I spoke. The snow kept falling harder; there were hardly any people on the street. I walked along the sidewalk, my feet numb from the cold. Suddenly, a flash of light appeared right before my eyes. A silver machine materialized out of nowhere, half my height, like a mini fridge. On the screen, a line of text blinked: "Severe Love-Brain detected. Recycle or not?" Below were two buttons: "Yes" and "No." I froze, reached out, and touched the machine's surface; the cold metal felt real. Love-Brain? Yeah, I'm a real fool for love. Knowing his mother Violet sells fried skewers made with gutter oil, and I still covered for her. Knowing full well he was flirting with that female colleague, I kept tricking myself into thinking it was just a misunderstanding. Even last weekend, he deliberately got me drunk and got me pregnant—I still told myself it was an "accident." If he hadn't gotten even more brutal after I got pregnant, I probably still wouldn't have woken up. I gritted my teeth and pressed "Yes." The machine let out a faint hum, and a warm light wrapped around me. I felt dizzy as hell, like someone shoved me underwater then dragged me back up. When I opened my eyes, the familiar dingy rental apartment came into view. The calendar on the wall read October 17th of last year— the weekend that changed everything. Half a bottle of red wine and two glasses were on the table. Howard lay on the nearby sofa, tugging at his tie, his eyes glazed over. "Cecily, pour me a glass of water." He spoke, his tone just like I remembered. I suddenly stood up, my heart pounding. I'm reborn? Reborn to the night he planned for me to get pregnant? I rushed into the bathroom and opened the drawer. Sure enough, the emergency contraceptive pills I'd bought before were there, still sealed. My hands shook as I tore open the package and swallowed the pill with cool tap water. The cold water slid down my throat, and only then did I start to feel a little more grounded. Howard was yelling again, "What's the hold-up?" I stepped outside and looked at him. His face was still handsome, but all I felt was disgust. "Pour your own drink." I said. Howard froze, then sat up. "What did you say?" "I said, pour your own water." I repeated myself, my voice steady. He frowned. "What's wrong with you today? What's gotten into you?" I ignored him, grabbed my coat, and said, "I'm tired. I'm leaving now." "Going back where? Isn't this your place?" He reached out, trying to grab me. I dodged away, opened the door, and left. The hallway's motion-activated light was on. I walked downstairs step by step, my pace getting faster. When I got downstairs, I looked up at the night sky. The moon was bright, and there was no snow. I took out my phone and called my mom. "Mom, I've made up my mind. I broke up with Howard." There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then my mom's choked voice came through: "You should've done it a long time ago, my silly girl." I hung up and took a deep breath. Howard Lincoln, Violet, and then Zara Lincoln, who stirred up trouble. What you owe me, I'll take back bit by bit.