I Let Go After My Boyfriend Chose My Sister

When my boyfriend pressed the wrong elevator button for my sister's floor yet again, he gave me a blaming look. "Why didn't you remind me? Whatever. Since we're already outside her door, I might as well help Nicole change her broken lightbulb." I managed to force a bitter smile. There it was again. "Since we're already here." Ever since my sister, Nicole, moved into the penthouse of my apartment building a year ago, my boyfriend had consistently pressed the wrong button. When we were supposed to watch a movie together, he carried the champagne he bought straight to Nicole's door and knocked. When I had a raging fever and asked him to bring me medicine, he bought painkillers instead and delivered them to Nicole because she happened to have a headache. Even on my birthday, he walked right into Nicole's apartment carrying my birthday cake. "Since the cake is already at her place, let's just use it to celebrate your sister's housewarming," he had said. "And since I'm already here, the light in Nicole's living room is out. I'll fix it for her real quick." Right now, I watched as he walked into Nicole's apartment without even looking back. With an expressionless face, I hit the button to close the elevator doors. He had completely forgotten that my lease expired today. It was moving day. Since he chose Nicole, there was no reason for me to wait for him any longer. Chapter 1 The elevator descended slowly. Downstairs, the moving crew had already arrived. "Miss Ella, we can start moving your things now," the mover said. I nodded slightly. Just then, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Francesco. Where did you go? I don't see you. I froze for a moment. Looking at our chat history, the screen was filled with messages I had initiated. For the longest time, I was the only one trying to keep this relationship alive. This sudden inquiry made my fingertips tremble slightly. But the moment I tapped open the chat box, his second message popped up. By the way, go to the dry cleaner downstairs and pick up Nicole's coat. Grab some strawberries on your way back too. Nicole likes them. I stared at those two lines for a long time. It turned out he hadn't noticed I was missing because he cared. He only realized I wasn't around when he needed an errand girl. I scrolled up through our past texts. Almost every single message revolved around Nicole. "Your coworker brought back a limited-edition collectible from abroad. Give it to Nicole. I'll buy you a new one later." "Nicole has been wanting French food. Let's go tonight. I already booked a table." Francesco's texts were always demands. He made every decision on his own, never once bothering to ask what I wanted. I remembered a few days ago when it was raining heavily. I had texted him, asking if he could pick me up on his way home. "I'm busy with something else," he had replied. "How about this? I'll send someone to get you." Yet not long after, Nicole posted a photo on social media. The picture showed a tilted umbrella shielding her as she got into the passenger seat of a car. Her caption read, Almost got stranded in the heavy rain. Luckily, someone came to my rescue just in time. I knew the interior of that car all too well. I used to comfort myself by thinking that Francesco was my boyfriend and Nicole was my biological sister. I told myself I should be happy they got along so well. But my constant giving in only made his blatant favoritism even more shameless. This time, I didn't reply. While I was packing the remaining items in the apartment, another message from Francesco arrived. "Why aren't you back yet? Nicole wants pasta, so I'm taking her over to the restaurant first. Just come by yourself later." This had happened countless times before. Even when we made plans to eat together, if I was just a few minutes late due to work or traffic, I would arrive to nothing but leftovers. Whenever I expressed my hurt, Francesco would always look indifferent. "Nicole has a sensitive stomach, so it's only normal that she eats first," he would say. "Besides, the food is just a little cold. It still tastes fine. Stop being so petty and making a scene over nothing." He claimed I was making a scene. But back when a pipe burst in my apartment and flooded the whole place, leaving it a total mess, I had called him for help. He used the exact same excuse. "I don't have time to go over. I already sent someone. Stop making a scene." So, I learned to fix everything myself. I slowly learned to stop relying on him. Over time, I figured out how to carry every burden alone. Yet, when it came to my sister Nicole, he acted like a completely different person. "A girl shouldn't force herself to handle everything alone," he had told her. "If you ever need anything, just say the word. Your sister lives right downstairs anyway, so it's no trouble for me to drop by and help." I could never understand why offering a hand to me was "making a scene," while doing the exact same for Nicole was just a "painless favor" he gladly did himself. Suppressing the bitterness in my chest, I texted back. You guys enjoy your dinner. I'm busy. A long time passed before he finally replied. Throwing a tantrum again? Ella, you're an adult. Stop acting like a child. It wasn't like I hadn't thrown tantrums before. Last winter, I ran a raging fever and shivered all over. I called him, begging him to bring me medicine. Instead, he told me he was at Nicole's place because she wasn't feeling well, and he was delivering painkillers to her. When I told him I was sick too, he fell silent for two seconds before saying, "It's just a cold and a fever. Just take some over-the-counter medicine. If that doesn't work, I'll call a family doctor for you." That was the first time I hit my absolute limit. He was my boyfriend, but I was never his priority. I broke up with him on the spot. But he simply thought I was overreacting and blocked my number. He was certain that I loved him too much, certain that I could never leave him. So, he let me cry alone for two days until my tears ran dry. Only then did he have Nicole step in to invite me out for dinner. Because I loved him, I eventually chose to forgive him and reconcile. Since then, I never argued or complained again. But this time was different. I wasn't throwing a tantrum. I was truly letting go. Chapter 2 The movers bustled back and forth, slowly emptying the apartment piece by piece. It was only then that I realized something startling. After three years of dating, the traces of Francesco in this place were pitifully scarce. There was only a pair of dust-covered slippers and a single glass he used. That was it. Even those two items had been bought by me. He had never given me a single decent gift. When Nicole moved, he had meticulously prepared a housewarming present. On her birthday, he showed up at her door with a massive bouquet of her favorite white roses. But with me, he always used the same excuse. "These superficial rituals are meaningless. What matters most is that we're together." I had questioned him and shown my frustration before, but he always argued back righteously. "I'm only good to Nicole because she's your sister." I let out a self-deprecating laugh. Just then, my phone rang. It was my mother. "My sweet girl, have you and Francesco finalized the wedding plans yet?" she asked. Not long ago, Francesco and I had met each other's parents, and both families were incredibly pleased. We had intended to lock down a wedding date, but he claimed he was too caught up in family business and suggested postponing it. Though I was deeply disappointed at the time, I tried to be understanding of his family obligations. Looking back now, I felt nothing but relief. If a man couldn't even remember which floor I lived on, what would marriage be like? Would I have to spend the rest of my life waiting around alone, silently enduring it all? "Mom, the wedding is off," I said. "We broke up." My mother's tone grew tense instantly. "What happened? Did he do something to hurt you?" "No. I just gradually realized that we aren't right for each other." Silence stretched over the line. Everyone knew just how desperately I loved Francesco. We had been together for three years, and I had adored him every single day of it. My mother knew, my sister Nicole knew, and Francesco knew it best of all. In the beginning, I was the one who actively pursued him. To get closer to him, I went to concerts of bands he liked, read books in his field of study, and even signed up at his gym just to create accidental run-ins. After graduation, I turned down a highly recommended position from my advisor without a second thought. I packed my bags and rushed to the city where he lived. My mother had been so furious back then that she refused to speak to me for three days. Yet, I had told her firmly that if I missed out on him, I would regret it for the rest of my life. Even Nicole had mocked my lack of resolve back then. "Ella, you are completely wrapped around his finger." Nicole and I were biological sisters, bound by blood. I never could have imagined that she would eventually enjoy my boyfriend's special treatment so shamelessly, with absolutely no regard for my feelings. I glanced at Nicole's newly updated social media feed. It featured a photo of an exquisite candlelit dinner. The location tag showed the exact restaurant I had spent months researching and longing to visit. The flickering candlelight paired perfectly with the elegant dishes, and soft piano music drifted in the background. I had invited Francesco there countless times, but he always brushed me off, claiming he was too busy. Each time, I could only suppress my anticipation. Yet now, simply because Nicole mentioned she wanted to try it, he brought her there without a moment's hesitation. As the last piece of furniture was moved out of the apartment, I collapsed onto the bare sofa, utterly exhausted. I remembered the last time I moved. I had called Francesco for help, but he used his busy schedule as an excuse, saying he couldn't make it but could send someone else. Frustrated, I refused his offer and stubbornly moved all the luggage by myself. In the end, I aggravated an old injury, leaving my lower back in excruciating pain, and spent two days confined to bed. But when it was Nicole's turn to move, Francesco deliberately brought a crew over and helped her through the entire process. "Moving is exhausting and troublesome," he had said at the time. "She's a girl living on her own out here. It's only right that we pitch in and help out." Watching him hustle back and forth, his clothes soaked through with sweat, I had felt a profound sense of estrangement. It turned out he wasn't unwilling to put in the time and effort. It was just that his care had never belonged to me. Chapter 3 While I was cleaning up, my phone suddenly rang. It was a call from Francesco. His questions hit me like a torrential downpour the moment I answered. "Ella, open the door! You actually changed the passcode to the lock? What the hell are you trying to do?" I remained silent for a moment before speaking up slowly. "It doesn't mean anything, Francesco. Let's break up." The man on the other end of the line acted as if he hadn't heard a single word I said. His voice was thick with suppressed rage. "Nicole remembered that you love the dessert from this restaurant and specifically packaged a portion for you. Look at you. Not only did you change the passcode, but you won't even open the door when we knock!" "Ella, can you grow up and stop making a scene?" I smiled bitterly. Was he genuinely unable to hear my breakup request, or was he simply too used to treating all my emotions as a mere tantrum? Just as I was about to say it again, he abruptly hung up the phone. I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. I could only blame myself. My love for him was public knowledge. Even he was absolutely certain that I would never actually leave. The next day, I went to the shopping mall to buy groceries and daily necessities for my new home. As I turned past a shelf, I bumped right into two people. Francesco was holding shopping bags of various sizes, with Nicole walking closely by his side. The smiles on their faces froze instantly the moment they saw me. "Ella, don't misunderstand. Francesco was just worried I wouldn't be able to carry all this stuff, so he came along to help me shop," Nicole explained, reaching out to grab my hand. Francesco pulled her back aggressively. "There's no need to explain anything to her. She hasn't even apologized to us for what happened yesterday." "Nicole, you're the one who spoils her too much. That's exactly why she's become so ungrateful." Nicole looked at me with a worried expression, but she ultimately followed Francesco obediently toward the checkout counter. Watching their retreating backs, I felt as if a piece of my heart had been hollowed out. Francesco had never been willing to accompany me grocery shopping. He always complained that shopping was exhausting and tedious. "If you need anything, just tell the butler to buy it for you," he used to say. "Why go out and exhaust yourself?" Yet right now, he was perfectly willing to carry heavy bags for Nicole without a single complaint. When we walked out of the mall, Francesco placed all the items into the trunk. Nicole was the first to hop into the passenger seat, rolling down the window to wave at me. "Get in. I'll drop you off on our way back," Francesco said naturally. My gaze landed on the "Reserved for Girlfriend" sticker on the passenger seat. I had put that sticker there with my own hands. Noticing my stare, he frowned, his tone dripping with impatience. "Nicole has a back injury, and the passenger seat has more legroom. Go sit in the back." He remembered every single one of Nicole's habits. He remembered her bad back, and he remembered her nut allergy. But he completely forgot about the old back injury I had sustained from moving heavy luggage by myself last time. A wave of bitterness rushed up my throat, but I forced my emotions down and spoke up. "No thanks. We're not going the same way." Hearing this, Nicole unbuckled her seatbelt. "Ella, stop letting your anger talk." Francesco stopped her with his arm and let out a cold sneer. "Since she doesn't want to get in, let's leave." With those words, the engine roared to life, and the car sped away right in front of me. When it came to me, Francesco never seemed to have even a shred of patience. Chapter 4 During the days of our silent treatment, I cut off all contact completely and started my new life. Meanwhile, Francesco firmly believed I was just throwing a temporary tantrum and would eventually swallow my pride and come crawling back. A few days later, Francesco sent me an address. "My mother invited you to have dinner with us to discuss the details of our wedding." I typed and deleted my response over and over in the chat box. After hesitating for a long time, I finally replied with a single word: Okay. Francesco's mother was an elegant and gentle woman. Throughout our three-year relationship, she had always treated me incredibly well. Therefore, I felt that even if I had decided to break up with him, I should explain it to her in person to give this messy relationship a proper, dignified ending. I was the first to arrive at the private dining room. After exchanging a few pleasantries with Lady Lodovicona, Francesco and Nicole finally made their belated appearance. "Mom, this is Nicole. She's Ella's younger sister," Francesco introduced. "This restaurant is very close to her office, so I brought her along since it was on the way." Lady Lodovicona was always polite and gracious, but at that moment, she let out a soft cough, and her expression visibly darkened. Francesco completely ignored it, picking up the menu to start ordering. Every single dish he chose was tailored to Nicole's preferences, without exception. He and Nicole both adored Japanese cuisine, but I couldn't stomach raw fish at all. Whenever the three of us had Japanese food in the past, they would relish their sashimi while I would feel nauseous after just a few bites. "Francesco, don't order so much sashimi," Lodovicona said, frowning as she glanced at me. Only then did Francesco seem to suddenly remember my existence, adding carelessly, "Let's throw in a creamy mushroom soup then. I remember Ella likes that." A wave of bitterness rushed into my heart. It was only at the very end that he reluctantly took my tastes into account. But... "Francesco," Nicole said, looking uneasy as her gaze shifted between him and me. "Ella is allergic to mushrooms." Prompted by Nicole's reminder, a look of panic finally washed over Francesco's face. He hurriedly flipped through the menu. "Oh, then let's swap this dish for—" "Don't bother," I said, standing up to interrupt him. How pathetic. After three years of being together day and night, he knew absolutely nothing about my dietary preferences or severe allergies. He actually had to rely on my sister to remind him. I looked at Francesco's mother apologetically and spoke softly. "I'm sorry, Lady Lodovicona, but I won't be staying for dinner." "I've decided to break up with Francesco. Let's call off the wedding." With that, I turned around and walked out of the private room.