My Boyfriend Only Cares about My Bestie

I had stayed up all night to get the merchandise. It was then callously discarded by my boyfriend. On that stormy day, I knelt beside a dumpster and searched through bags of trash. Yarden Scott stopped in his tracks. “What are you looking for?” “My merch.” I did not look up. “I reminded you three times. It was in the left drawer of the sideboard.” His shirt was soaked from the rain. He subconsciously said, “Yvonne’s car broke down. I went to pick her up. I forgot.” He forgot. Last week, he threw away the commemorative ticket stubs I had stayed up all night organizing because he thought they were scraps of paper. The month before, he threw away the brooch my grandmother left me because he thought it was an old button. Every single time, he brushed it off with the same excuse. I gave a mocking smile. “You always remember everything when it comes to Yvonne, don’t you?” Yarden carefully wiped the hair tie Yvonne Jordan had left behind and answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s your best friend. That means I have to treat her very well. “If I keep her happy, our relationship will last. Isn’t it all for your sake?” I watched his practiced movements and felt completely drained. I could not say another word. I had reminded him countless times before not to touch the drawers in my study. He ignored me and threw away my collection of rare stamps. I told him again and again that I was allergic to mangoes. At a group dinner, he still ordered a mango shake for me. But when Yvonne casually mentioned that she had trouble sleeping, he started sending her music to help her sleep every single day. If Yvonne wanted to eat at her favorite restaurant, he would pull every string he could to get a reservation. To him, everything about me was a burden. Everything about Yvonne was worth his time. If that were the case, then I should not bother him any longer. Chapter 1 Late that night, I booked a flight for three days later and accepted an overseas assignment. The next day, I placed my keys and my ring in front of Yarden Scott. He froze. “Is this really necessary?” I smiled. No, it was not. I had simply realized that building my own future was so much easier than waiting for someone to grow up. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. His drawl was as lazy as ever. “Come on. Stop making a scene. What do you want for dinner? I’ll book a restaurant.” The keypad on the front door beeped. Yvonne Jordan walked in. She noticed the ring on the coffee table and stopped for a moment. Then, she shook her head and let out a sigh. “Yara, you’re throwing a tantrum again.” She sounded helpless and weary. “Yarden tore the sleeve of his shirt yesterday because he helped tow my car. I haven’t even thanked him yet.” I was throwing a tantrum again. The words rang in my ears. I suddenly felt lightheaded. I could not remember when that phrase had become Yvonne’s favorite. Every time I felt wronged, every time I felt disappointed, every time I wanted to have a serious conversation with Yarden, she called it “throwing a tantrum”. Did she remember? Three years ago, when I decided to turn down the offer from Melbourn, she was the first person I called. I had cried to her over the phone. She had called Yarden a jerk and said, “You deserve someone better.” When did everything change? Maybe it started after they joined the same research institute. They talked about quantum entanglement. They talked about string theory. I could never join those conversations. Their voices drifted from the living room into the bedroom night after night. “What kind of thank-you gift?” Yarden put down his phone and looked at the paper bag. Yvonne walked over and took out a succulent. “I propagated this Peach Jelly succulent myself. You helped me with my car yesterday. I had to thank you somehow.” She smiled and handed it to him. “If you take good care of it, it’ll grow into a big, beautiful clump.” Yarden took it from her. He held it carefully and slowly turned it in his hands. A sudden sting spread through my chest. I turned my head and looked around the living room. On the left side of the TV cabinet sat the tie-dyed cloth Yvonne had brought back from Cloudridge. That very night, Yarden had replaced the tablecloth we spent an entire weekend picking out. A pot of mint sat on the plant stand by the balcony. Yvonne had stuck a cutting into the soil on a whim, and it took root. She said it would make mojitos more convenient. Yarden watered it every day. He cared for it more than the pothos I had kept alive for three years. A long-handled umbrella stood in the umbrella holder by the front door. Yvonne once said she felt safer with a large umbrella on rainy days. At some point, our folding umbrella disappeared. Yarden placed the succulent in the middle of the bookshelf. His favorite astronaut figurine stood right beside it. He took two steps back and looked at it. A faint smile still rested on his lips. Yvonne suddenly turned to me and said, “Yara, you need to be more understanding. “You know how busy Yarden is. He’s always had a bad memory.” I smiled. “He doesn’t have a bad memory.” Yvonne froze. I slowly stood up. “He just doesn’t remember me.” Yarden turned around and frowned. “Yara, what do you mean by that?” “It means the wedding is off. We’re breaking up.” Yvonne let out a sigh and walked over to take my hand. “Don’t make a decision while you’re upset…” I avoided her hand. I started packing my luggage. I suddenly remembered the night three years ago when I had locked my offer letter in a drawer. Yarden had held me and said, “Don’t go. Let’s build our careers together. It won’t take long. Just wait for me.” Three years had passed. His career had taken off. So had Yvonne’s. Last month, the research institute published its joint paper. Their names appeared side by side on the title page. I was the only one who had stood still. Chapter 2 When I walked out of the bedroom with my suitcase, Yarden and Yvonne were sitting side by side. Yvonne turned to look at me and hurriedly took off the coat from her shoulders. “I forgot… Yarden, hold this for me first…” “There’s no need to take it off.” Yarden held her hand down. His voice was calm. “Yara won’t care.” He looked up at me. “Yvonne hasn’t been feeling well lately. She’s been sick on and off for the past few months.” As if explaining himself, he continued, “Her period is coming soon, so she needs to keep warm.” My heart tightened. He even kept track of her period. We had been together for four years. Every time I was in so much pain that I curled up in bed, all he ever did was tell me to drink more hot water before he hurried out the door. Yvonne linked her arm around mine affectionately. She looked at me with hesitation. “Yara, don’t get the wrong idea. Yarden is only taking care of me because you’re his girlfriend. He really is the perfect boyfriend.” I stared at her coldly. Yvonne’s smile stiffened. Her hand slowly fell away. Yarden frowned. His lips moved, but no words came out. I pulled my arm back and nodded. “Yeah, he’s the perfect boyfriend.” I looked at him. “I just don’t know whose.” Yarden’s face darkened. “Yara, what do you mean?” He frowned. His voice sounded irritated. “You’re always like this. You get upset over the smallest things. Aren’t you tired of it?” I stood at the doorway and looked back at him. Yarden ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Yvonne and I are coworkers. She’s been sick, so I’m looking after her. That’s all. “You eat with the people from your lab all the time too, don’t you? Can you stop assuming the worst about people? This side of you is really exhausting.” Every word hit my chest like small pebbles. It did not hurt, but there were just too many of them. They piled up until my chest felt heavy. “Yara!” Yvonne suddenly rushed over. “Wait.” Her fingers tightened around my forearm. They trembled slightly. “Today…” She bit her lip. Her voice became softer. “It’s my birthday.” I froze. Yvonne looked up at me. Her eyes were slightly teary. “I know you haven’t been in a good mood lately, but you always remember. We’ve known each other for almost fifteen years.” Fifteen years. Every year, I have been preparing for her birthday a month in advance. Handmade cards. A music box I saved up for. A scarf I stayed up late knitting. The lipstick she once mentioned wanting… That year, I had bought her a pair of pearl earrings. She had looked at them in the display window for a long time. Then, she shook her head and left because they were too expensive. I secretly bought them. My fingers touched the box. The moment I felt the velvet, another memory came back to me. There was a black hair tie in Yarden’s sealed bag. He kept it carefully in the bedside drawer. My chest felt as if someone had cut it open with a dull knife. The pain was sharp and clear. I took out the box and gently placed it in her hand. “Happy birthday.” Then, I pulled my hand back and prepared to leave. Yvonne’s tears fell. She held the box tightly and could not say anything. Yarden could not stand seeing her cry. He grabbed my wrist and snapped, “Yara, that’s enough.” His voice trembled. “Don’t you know how good Yvonne has been to you? After all these years, when has she ever not been on your side? When you were upset, she stayed up all night talking to you. When you argued with me, she was always the one who tried to make peace between us. When you applied to study abroad, she cared more than you did. She went around asking different schools about it for you. And this is how you treat her? “It’s her birthday. You’re just handing her a gift without even saying a single kind word? When did you become so cold?” I lowered my head and looked at the hand holding my wrist. The hand had clearly defined knuckles. The hand had once held mine through the emergency room hallway at 2 a.m.. The hand had once held mine tightly on New Year’s Eve. “Yarden,” I called his name softly. He froze for a moment. His eyes fell on my face, and his fingers loosened slightly. I pulled his fingers away, one by one. Then, I looked up at him. “Yvonne doesn’t need me anymore.” Chapter 3 He frowned. “Doesn’t she still have you?” I smiled. “You remember her period. You stay up all night helping her solve problems. “Then, what’s the point of me being here as her friend? Am I just here to watch the two of you?” Yarden’s face slowly went pale. “Yara...” His voice sounded frantic. I walked away without looking back. The next day, my phone buzzed all day. Yarden called me seven times. One message after another also appeared on my screen. [Are you awake? The wind was strong last night. Don’t catch a cold.] [Yvonne wasn’t feeling well last night. It’s her birthday today, and I want us all to have dinner together. Come over. Stop being upset.] [She cried all night. Come comfort her. She listens to you.] [Yara, don’t be angry anymore. Come have dinner. I ordered your favorite pizza.] The last message came at 5:30 p.m.. [6:30 p.m.. Same place as always. Don’t make everyone wait for you.] I placed my phone face down on the table and continued folding clothes into my suitcase. At 6 p.m., I put the last coat into the side compartment and zipped my suitcase closed. Then, I opened social media. Yarden rarely posted anything. In the four years we had been together, he had made fewer than twenty posts in total. Sometimes, he shared an academic article. Sometimes, he posted a picture of the evening clouds outside the lab window. Sometimes, he liked my posts. But on that day, he did something unprecedented. He made three posts. The first one went up in the afternoon. It was a picture of two movie ticket stubs placed side by side on top of a wallet. They were for the third showing of the newly released sci-fi movie. The caption read: She’s wanted to watch this movie for a long time. I’m taking her. If someone doesn’t come soon, these tickets will go to waste. The second post came in the evening. It was a picture of Yvonne’s back. She was standing in front of a shop window at the mall. Her long ponytail hung down her back, and the lights gave her profile a warm glow. The caption read: The birthday girl looks beautiful today. I hope she’s happy every day. The third post came at 9:30 p.m.. It was a nine-photo grid. The photo in the center showed Yvonne holding a bouquet and blowing out her candles. Our mutual friends went crazy in the comments. [Finally making it official? Congratulations!] [I knew it was only a matter of time. You two are perfect together.] [Your girlfriend is beautiful! Yarden, you’re one lucky guy.] One comment after another, every single one called her “your girlfriend”. I stared at the screen for a long time. Then, I liked every post. A minute later, Yarden sent me a voice message. I opened it. His voice was quiet. “Yara, don’t misunderstand. I only posted those things to make her happy. “She cried all night. It was her birthday, and she was in a bad mood. I just wanted to post a few things to cheer her up.” He paused. “There’s nothing between Yvonne and I. You have to believe me. “Don’t read too much into it. Come over soon. I saved you a slice of mango cake. Isn’t that your favorite?” Mango cake. My fingers suddenly went still. Yarden kept talking. “There’s only one slice left. I specifically asked them to save it for you. It’s from your favorite place. They put a whole layer of mango on top…” But I was allergic to mangoes. I had told him that from the very first day we met. On our first date, I had looked through the menu and said, “Don’t order mango pudding. I’ll break out in a rash.” He claimed to remember it. After that, every time we ordered food, he would ask first, “Does this dish have mango in it?” That was how things had been in the beginning. He remembered every little thing about me. After he met Yvonne, he forgot them all. Chapter 4 The first time the three of us had dinner together, I watched him refill Yvonne’s drink three times, prepare a full plate of beef for her, and passionately talk with her about their research projects. The food on my own plate had already gone cold, but he did not notice. On the way home that night, I could not hold it in anymore and asked, “Didn’t you take care of her a little too much tonight?” He froze for a moment, then smiled. “Yara, I’m only being nice to her because of you. “She’s your best friend. If I don’t take care of her, who will? I can’t make you look bad, can I?” It was all for my sake. Those words became his all-purpose excuse. Later, every time I spoke up, every time I tried to tell him, “I’m uncomfortable,” “You’re too close to her,” or “You remember her but forget me,” he used the same reason to shut me down. “I’m only doing this because of you. “She’s your best friend. I’m treating her well for your sake. “Do you really want me to be cold toward your friend?” Because he kept saying he did it “because of me,” Yvonne appeared more and more often in our conversations. “Yvonne’s project turned out amazing today. “Yvonne said that the new Japanese restaurant is good. Should we try it this weekend? “Did you know Yvonne likes old movies too? She recommended three to me last night. “Yara, Yvonne caught a cold recently. I dropped some medicine off for her since I was nearby.” He had claimed to be nearby. However, he lived on the east side of the city. The research institute was on the west side, and Yvonne lived in the south. He had been “nearby” across three different districts just to bring her medicine. In the beginning, whenever he talked about Yvonne, he would still look at me. Later, it felt like he was simply telling me about his everyday life. He could not stop himself. Eventually, he started remembering things about Yvonne. He remembered that she did not like cilantro. He remembered that she hated the cold. He recalled her period cramps were so painful that she needed painkillers. The things I once thought he was naturally bad at remembering suddenly became things he never forgot. But he did forget about my mango allergy. Yarden was still talking on the phone. “Just come over. The cake is already cut. You’re the only one missing. Don’t ruin everyone’s mood.” “Yarden.” I cut him off. “Yeah?” “I’m allergic to mangoes.” The other end of the line went quiet. “I…” He hesitated. “I’ll get you another slice. They have strawberry cake too…” “Strawberry is her favorite.” He fell silent. “Mango is your favorite. It’s the one you order the most.” I said slowly, “But just now, you said that slice of cake was for me. You said you saved it for me. “Yarden, the person you waited for all night... Who was it really? Me or her?” I hung up. The next morning, a message from Yarden popped up. [Are you free at noon? Come try on some wedding dresses.] [Yvonne picked the shop. She said you’d definitely like the styles.] I stared at the message on my screen. My fingertips suddenly turned cold. I had dreamed about that wedding dress since our first year together. Whenever we passed a bridal shop while shopping, I would slow down. I had saved more than ten dress designs in my favorites. Before bed, I would look through them again and again. I let out a mocking laugh and prepared to block him. Another message came in. [By the way, the engagement party is tomorrow. Don’t forget.] [Yvonne said she hopes we’ll be alright. She said you two have been friends for so many years. Don’t let this ruin your friendship.] [She cried again last night. She said she feels guilty and asked me to make sure you’re okay. Don’t disappoint her.] My chest felt like someone had grabbed my heart and twisted it tightly. Without hesitation, I blocked him. The next day, I walked through the jet bridge at the airport and boarded the plane. When the clouds covered the last rooftops below, I closed my eyes. I thought, ‘Goodbye, Yarden.’