My Clingy Love Was Nothing But His Joke

1 After our latest cold war, I opened my text thread with Wyatt, preparing to swallow my pride and make peace like I always did. But then I saw the Instagram story he had posted just thirty minutes ago. It was a photo of him trying to cheer up Olive, a junior at his firm. The caption read: Worse than trying to appease a girlfriend. Olive had replied in the comments: Liar. Didn't you say you've never had to appease a girlfriend before? Staring at her comment, the reality finally sank in. Wyatt had never once tried to make things right with me. Every single time we argued, he simply waited for me to crawl back. Suddenly, a mutual friend sent me a screen recording of a Snapchat video. In the clip, someone off-camera asked Wyatt if he wasn't worried I would actually walk away this time. Wyatt just smirked, looking entirely unbothered. "Please. Mary is so hopelessly obsessed with me. If I ignore her for more than forty-eight hours, she's the one who starts panicking." "Last time we had a fight, she sent me these massive walls of text that made my eyes glaze over. Two weeks ago, she even bought matching rings, talking about how she wanted to get married." He chuckled dismissively. "If I don't baby Olive, she'll freeze me out for weeks. But Mary? She's too clingy. You couldn't push her away if you tried." Watching the video, my lips curled into a faint, tired smile. Fine. If I was just a clingy, obsessed girl to him, then I guess I would stop chasing. … Near the end of the video, Wyatt gave a smug grin. "Don't believe me? Let's make a bet. I guarantee Mary texts me to apologize tonight." His voice was filled with absolute certainty. "When it comes to Mary, I never lose." The video cut off there. I went back to our chat, my eyes lingering on the last two messages. They were from me, asking what exactly was going on between him and Olive. That had sparked this current silent treatment. Wyatt hadn't replied. He was always like that, ignoring whatever didn't suit him. I used to think I understood him, that I was just used to his quiet phases. But hearing him speak about me with such casual contempt made a dull, heavy ache flare up in my chest. What I had viewed as trying to save our relationship, he saw as the desperate actions of a girl who couldn't leave. He had never once tried to comfort me, yet he went out of his way to baby Olive. Before I could even lock my phone, a voice note from Olive popped up. "Hey Mary, did you forget something? Wyatt is still waiting for your apology essay!" In the background, a chorus of drunk laughter erupted. Before I could even think of a reply, two more texts buzzed on my screen. "Wyatt placed a bet that you'd crawl back tonight. Better start writing fast, or you'll run out of time!" "We're all waiting for him to leak it in the group chat!" She ended the text with a laughing emoji. And just like that, the final piece of my dignity was stripped away. Every desperate, vulnerable paragraph I had ever sent him to mend our relationship had been forwarded to his group chat for his buddies and Olive to laugh at. I played the voice note one more time. Beneath the rowdy background noise, I could clearly hear Wyatt's soft, amused chuckle. Suddenly, I didn't even have the energy to feel angry. Later that evening, Olive was the one who drove Wyatt home. I happened to be downstairs pouring a glass of water when they walked through the door. Seeing me, Olive offered a sweet, innocent smile. "Mary, Wyatt and the guys had a few too many, so I wanted to make sure he got home safe. Don't read too much into it, okay?" As if recalling something else, her smile widened. "Wyatt only posted that story to cheer me up because I was having a bad day, so please don't take it personally. He had to drink so much tonight because he lost his bet. Didn't you get my texts?" I ignored her, taking a slow sip of my water. Once the glass was half empty, I finally looked up at her. "I got them. So? What exactly do you want me to say?" My voice was flat, carrying an icy edge of exhaustion. Olive blinked, her smile faltering slightly. "I was just making conversation, Mary. I just hope you aren't mad at me for bringing him back." It wasn't the first time she had driven him home. And it wasn't the first time Wyatt had ignored me for days because of her. "I'm not mad," I said, my gaze shifting from her to Wyatt, who was slumped on the sofa, before returning to her stiffening face. "In fact, if it's not too much trouble, why don't you carry him up to his bed?" Wyatt suddenly looked up, his brow furrowing as if he couldn't quite comprehend my words. After all, every time he came home drunk, I was the one who stayed up to nurse him. Wyatt told Olive to head home, and she quickly gathered her things. "Okay, I'll leave you two to talk. See you tomorrow, Wyatt!" Once the front door clicked shut, Wyatt turned his eyes to me. "Why didn't you text me?" he asked, his tone demanding and entirely expectant. I looked at him calmly. "Why should I have?" Wyatt froze. For a moment, he couldn't find his words. He had grown so accustomed to my compliance. He was used to me offering the olive branch every time he froze me out. Because I hadn't done it this time, he was lost. Wyatt stared at me for a few seconds before his tone softened, a rare occurrence. "It was just a joke, Mary. There's no need to take it so seriously." Just a joke? Posting about Olive on Instagram, placing bets on my dignity, letting Olive mock me, and sharing our private messages with his friends: did all of that qualify as a simple joke in his mind? "Which joke are you referring to?" I asked. Wyatt's frown deepened, a flash of irritation crossing his eyes. Usually, whenever he threw me a bone like this, I would immediately let the matter drop. My silence was unfamiliar to him. "The Instagram story?" I continued, looking him dead in the eye. "The bet? Or you sharing our private conversations with your friends? Or maybe you telling everyone that I'm so desperate I'll never leave? Which joke are we talking about?" With all of his behavior laid out so plainly, Wyatt's expression soured. "It was just some dumb banter at a party," he said, barely hiding his impatience. "Stop blowing things out of proportion." Of course. To him, our relationship was nothing more than a casual topic to amuse his friends. If I dared to care, I was the one being unreasonable. "What about Olive?" my voice remained entirely devoid of emotion. "Was her kissing you also just a joke?" I had seen the photo in his group chat before it was hurriedly deleted, likely because they realized I was still in the member list. He had sat there, perfectly still on the couch, letting Olive press her lips to his. Wyatt's expression shifted slightly, a trace of guilt creeping into his voice. "We lost a party game, and it was a penalty. Don't overthink it. You know there's nothing going on between me and Olive. She's just a tomboy, she didn't mean anything by it." I said nothing. Wyatt cleared his throat. "We only took the photo because we were having fun, and I didn't show you because I knew you'd overreact. Besides, Olive only hangs out with me. She's comfortable with me. You couldn't expect her to kiss some random guy she barely knows, right?" He spoke with such conviction, as if he actually believed his own ridiculous excuses. "Why not?" I asked. "Why did it have to be you? Is it because you figured I'd just accept it like I always do?" Wyatt fell silent. I had voiced the exact thought he had tried so hard to hide. Sensing that he had pushed me too far this time, Wyatt took a step closer. The sharp scent of alcohol mixed with a sweet, unfamiliar women's perfume invaded my senses, making a wave of nausea roll through my stomach. He reached out, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. "Come on, baby, stop making a scene. That's enough. I have to help Olive out tomorrow, so let's talk about this some other time." Olive. He called her so affectionately. But there wouldn't be another time. Before I shut my eyes that night, my phone screen lit up with a text from Olive. Mary, I'm so sorry! I accidentally bit Wyatt's lip during the game tonight. Make sure he puts some ointment on it! I stared at the screen for a long time. Wyatt walked into the bedroom, noticing my blank stare. "Why aren't you asleep yet?" Without a word, I turned the screen toward him. Wyatt's face tensed as he read the words. It took him a long moment to look away. "It was an accident during the game," he muttered, his hand instinctively rising to touch his bottom lip. The cut was tiny, almost invisible, but under the bedroom light, it was clear enough. How reckless did a party game have to be for someone to bite another person's lip? I didn't bother asking. I locked my phone and turned over. "Right. Just be careful next time." My easy dismissal made Wyatt pause. His tone carried a hint of defensive irritation. "Look, I said it was an accident. Drop it." "I know," I murmured, closing my eyes. When I woke up the next morning, Wyatt was already gone. He had left a note on the nightstand. Olive needs some help. I won't be home for dinner tonight, don't wait up. I crumpled the note into a tight ball and tossed it into the trash can. When I unlocked my phone, I saw that the group chat notification count had already surged past ninety-nine. It seemed they had completely forgotten I was still in the chat. I scrolled up with numb fingers. Olive had posted a photo of her and Wyatt at an amusement park. Wyatt is literally the best, he brought me out to play today! So this was the "help" she needed. Whenever I asked Wyatt to go out with me, he was always too busy. If I said I wanted to relax, he had no time. A simple movie date was always postponed because of work, delayed again and again until it was forgotten entirely. Yet, he had all the time in the world for Olive. The chat was filled with continuous teasing from his friends. "Man, Wyatt's got some nerve. He's not even worried about his lady finding out?" "Cut the crap, even if she knows, what can she do? She'll just sulk for a couple of days and then come crawling back like she always does." "True. Mary is incredibly patient." Wyatt had then shared a few photos of Olive that he had taken, followed by a voice note. "Nothing to hide. Olive and I aren't doing anything wrong." Olive immediately replied with a teasing text. "I told Mary about Wyatt's lip last night, and she didn't even get mad!" I closed the chat and quietly left the group. I looked down at my hand. The ring I wore was part of a matching pair I had bought myself. Wyatt rarely wore his, claiming it got in the way of his work, so it usually sat forgotten in a drawer. There was no point in wearing mine either. I slipped it off and dropped it into a drawer. Wyatt noticed my departure from the chat almost immediately. He sent a brief text. You left the group? Four words. No explanation, no apology. I didn't reply. An hour later, my phone rang. It was Wyatt. "Olive has been under a lot of stress lately. She was worried you'd overreact, which is why she didn't tell you we were going to the park." I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. "The guys forgot you were in the chat. They were just talking trash. Don't be mad." "I'm not mad," I replied softly. Wyatt let out a breath of relief. "Alright, I'll head back now and pick you up for dinner." Now that the truth was out, he didn't feel the need to hide it anymore. To him, the issue was resolved. When Wyatt drove up to the house, Olive was sitting in the passenger seat. I stood by the curb. Olive rolled down the window, offering a apologetic smile. "Mary, I get terrible motion sickness. Mind sitting in the back?" I looked past her, fixing my eyes on Wyatt. "Olive gets car sick easily," he said, matching her tone. "Just sit in the back, Mary. It's the same thing." Wyatt had forgotten. I suffered from motion sickness too. I didn't move. Wyatt's brow furrowed with familiar impatience. "Don't start acting up over a seat. It's just a car ride." Yes, it was just a seat. But I was tired of always being the one to step back. I looked at him, my voice flat and exhausted. "I'm not going. You two enjoy yourselves." "Mary, that's enough," Wyatt's voice hardened. "Olive is actually sick. If you want to be jealous, at least pick the right time." Olive suddenly chimed in. "Wyatt, it's fine. Go with Mary. I don't want to get between you two." "No way," Wyatt replied instantly. "You've been dying to go to this restaurant for months. It took forever to get a reservation." So the dinner was for Olive too. Olive glanced at me, looking deeply troubled. "But what about Mary?" Wyatt spared me a cold glance and started the engine. "If she doesn't want to go, then leave her. Let her stay." As the window rolled up, Olive waved. "Bye, Mary! I'll take good care of Wyatt!" I stood on the pavement until the car disappeared from view. It was time to let go. Wyatt only treated me this way because he was entirely secure in my love. He knew I would always be there, no matter how much he neglected me. But love wasn't infinite; it had been chipped away, piece by piece, until nothing remained. I went upstairs and grabbed the suitcase I had packed days ago. We had lived in this house for five years. Before this, we had spent two years in a cramped, drafty apartment where the winter wind whistled through the window frames. Back then, Wyatt had held me close, promising that he would work hard to give me a good life, that we would get married as soon as he succeeded. He had succeeded. He made money and bought this beautiful house. But we never got married. Even the proposal had been initiated by me. He had forgotten his promises, and his life no longer had room for me. At the front door, I paused, taking one last look at the place I had called home. Then, I turned and walked out. He wouldn't have to read my long, eye-glazing paragraphs ever again. After dinner, Wyatt drove Olive home. On his way back, he stopped by Mary's favorite takeout place, intending to bring her a peace offering. He texted her to ask what she wanted, but ten minutes passed without a reply. Wyatt muttered an irritated curse and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, deciding to let her cool down on her own. He figured she would text him by the end of the week, just like she always did. But a week passed, and his pinned chat with Mary remained dead silent. It was entirely unlike her. Instead, it was Olive's name that kept popping up on his screen. Wyatt, did Mary contact you yet? Is she actually mad? Should I go apologize to her? I feel so bad. Wyatt didn't reply to Olive. Instead, he opened Mary's chat and typed out a brief message. That's enough. He clicked send, only to watch a bright red exclamation mark pop up next to his message. Mary had blocked him.