Miles Apart, Love Fell Apart

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During the seventh year of our long-distance relationship, Gaff began complaining incessantly about a new intern named Gwen.

Ive never seen an intern so incredibly useless. Someone actually had to teach her how to use the printer.

I explained the formatting to her ten times, and she still got it wrong. Does she have water in her brain?

"Do you want to hear the latest stupid thing she did? She managed to spill hot coffee right over our photo."

Whenever Gaff spoke, the conversation inevitably drifted back to Gwen.

I once half-jokingly teased him about it. "You know, in romantic comedies, the arrogant boss always ends up falling for the clumsy intern. If that happens, what am I supposed to do?"

Gaff had scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "Are you serious? Even if the sun rose in the west and the oceans ran dry, I wouldn't waste a single glance on her."

Then came our seven-year anniversary.

I drove for ten grueling hours, covering over seven hundred miles to surprise him for his birthday.

But when I pushed the door to his apartment open, Gaff and Gwen were leaning in close, their lips mere inches from touching.

I stood frozen in the doorway, my fingernails digging deep into my palms.

At that exact moment, I decided I was done fighting for this relationship.

Seeing me, Gaff froze, quickly taking a step back to distance himself from her.

The apartment fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

I stared at him, momentarily speechless.

In the past, even when we were separated by a six-hour train ride and hundreds of miles, Gaff would make the trip just to hold me for a few minutes. When his friends mocked him for being hopelessly whipped, he would snap right back at them: You don't know anything. I don't want to waste a single second I could be spending with Maeve.

But this time, when I was the one who had crossed the distance to see him, he didn't pull me into his arms. He didn't murmur how much he missed me in that low, raspy voice of his.

Instead, his handsome brow furrowed with irritation, his voice laced with an accusatory edge.

I stood still, glancing down at the cake box in my hands. "I came to celebrate your birthday."

Gaff stepped forward, taking the box from me.

As he reached out, I noticed a colorful, hand-woven thread bracelet on his wrist.

I recognized it instantly. I had seen it the last time he visited me, and the memory was etched into my mind. Gaff despised wearing anything on his wrists, claiming it was too much of a hassle. Even the expensive Rolex I had saved up to buy him for his birthday had only been worn once, on the day I gave it to him.

When I had asked about the cheap bracelet back then, he had dismissed my jealousy. Its just a small token of appreciation from a colleague. I was rushing to catch the train and forgot to take it off.

Now, looking closer, I realized the truth. He hadn't forgotten to take it off. He simply couldn't bear to part with it.

Gaff walked past me to set the cake on the counter, not sparing me another glance. He didn't hold my hand, nor did he ask about my long drive. He didn't even notice that my legs felt as heavy as lead, making it difficult to take a single step.

Gemma, however, was watching me. The initial look of disappointment and annoyance on her face vanished, replaced by a sweet, welcoming smile as she walked toward me.

"You must be Maeve. Ive seen your picture on Tris" She caught herself quickly, offering a polite correction. "On Gaffs desk."

My fingers tightened into fists. My gaze fell to her wrist.

She was wearing an identical hand-woven bracelet, the colors perfectly matching Gaff's.

Noticing my stare, Gwen proudly lifted her wrist. "Pretty, isn't it? I wove it myself. I made one for Gaff too, and he loved it so much he won't even take it off to shower."

So much for forgetting to take it off.

She reached out to take my arm, pulling me into the living room. "Maeve, if you like it, I can weave one for you too."

"No need," I began, but Gaff interrupted me before the words could leave my mouth.

"Forget it," Gaff said, his voice carrying a gentle, scolding tone that felt far too intimate. "You cut your fingers twice just making those two. Do you want to lose your hands entirely?"

Gwen pouted, looking up at him. "I was just inexperienced."

"Just admit you're clumsy, don't use inexperience as an excuse."

He was teasing her, but his eyes were filled with an unmistakable warmth. He then turned to me. "If you want one, Maeve, Ill buy you a proper one, okay?"

I looked at him, about to decline, when his eyes suddenly narrowed. "What happened to your arm?"

I looked down. Blood was slowly seeping through my sleeve at the elbow.

The highway had been dark, and my vision had been blurred by exhaustion. I had scraped against a concrete barrier on the way. I must have injured my elbow then.

Gaffs brow furrowed with concern. "Where else are you hurt?"

I shook my head.

"Ill get the first-aid kit."

"Ill get it!" Gwen volunteered, quickly running toward the storage closet.

A moment later, she returned with the kit. "Let me help Maeve clean it."

"Ill do it," Gaff said, taking the kit from her. He offered a tight, forced smile. "Shes incredibly sensitive to pain. I don't think she could handle your rough hands."

Gwen handed over the kit reluctantly, letting out a soft huff. "I only applied a little pressure when I cleaned your scratch the other day. Are you going to bring that up forever?"

As Gaff gently dabbed the antiseptic on my cut, I looked at Gwen. "Do you come here often?"

Gwen stared at me, as if trying to calculate the meaning behind my question.

"You seem very familiar with the apartment," I continued, my voice quiet. "You knew exactly where the first-aid kit was kept."

She picked up a strawberry from the bowl on the table, taking a bite with casual indifference. "I lived here for two months, so I know where most things are."

I averted my eyes, my nails digging deeper into my palms until the pain became sharp. I looked back at Gaff, my expression frozen.

Having finished bandaging my arm, Gaff looked up, meeting my eyes with a look of utter confusion. "What's wrong?"

A second later, the realization seemed to hit him. He glanced at Gwen, then looked back at me, offering a hurried explanation. "Shes incredibly clumsy, Maeve. She managed to fracture her leg just trying to buy some craft supplies. She didn't have anyone else in the city, so I had to take her in and look after her for a couple of months."

Gwen rolled her eyes at him. "Are you telling my embarrassing stories again? I only got distracted because I was trying to find the exact colors you liked."

"When did this happen?" I asked.

"About three months ago," Gwen replied.

Three months ago. That was the exact time Gaff and I had planned our dream trip to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. I had saved up, secured my leave, and bought the tickets. But the day before we were set to leave, he had called to cancel, claiming an urgent business trip had come up.

From that day on, he had stopped calling me as often. Whenever I tried to video call him, he would quickly hang up, citing poor reception, meetings, or client dinners.

Now, the pieces fell into place. He hadn't been working. He had canceled our trip to nurse Gwen back to health in his apartment.

The answer was staring me in the face.

Feeling a sudden wave of physical exhaustion, I excused myself to the bathroom.

There, resting on the edge of the sink, was a tube of lipstick in the exact shade Gwen was wearing.

I stared at it, a bitter, mocking smile creeping onto my face in the mirror.

She had never fully moved out.

I had driven ten hours, covering seven hundred miles, but the cake wasn't the only gift I had brought. I had also brought a surprise he had been begging for.

Every time we had to part after our brief visits, Gaff would look at me with tears in his eyes. Maeve, every time you leave, it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. When can we finally live in the same city?

Now, the opportunity had arrived. My company was opening two new regional branches, one in the South, near him, and one in the North, thousands of miles away. The North offered a much larger market and better career prospects, but I had chosen the South without hesitation, solely to end our long-distance struggle.

I looked at the lipstick on the counter, silently asking myself: Will he even care?

When I returned to the living room, Gaff and Gwen were sitting close together, laughing as they ate a different slice of cake. The cake I had brought sat untouched in the corner, forgotten and ignored.

I walked over, picked up my cake, and carried it to the refrigerator. It was an ice cream cake; it would melt if left out.

But the moment I pulled the refrigerator door open, I froze.

The shelves were packed to the brim with fresh strawberries.

The sight dragged me instantly into the darkest memories of my childhood.

At the group home where I grew up, the cook had used a strawberry to lure me into a dark, locked pantry. The door had slammed shut, plunging me into pitch-black terror as he advanced on me.

Since that day, strawberries had been my trigger, causing severe panic attacks and flashbacks.

For years, Gaff had made sure there was never a single strawberry in our presence. He had even blocked strawberry-related content on his social media feeds to keep me from seeing them.

Yet now, the refrigerator was overflowing with them.

My body began to shake uncontrollably, my voice trembling as I spoke.

"Gaff."

He looked up from his plate. "Yeah?"

"Let's break up."

Gaff froze.

In an instant, he rushed over, slamming the refrigerator door shut to block the fruit from my sight.

"It's okay, you're safe," he murmured, his hands wrapping tightly around my arms as he tried to soothe me. "I'm here, I'm here."

I slowly regained my composure, staring at his face. "Did you forget?"

"Of course I didn't," he said, his brow furrowing with mild annoyance. "But Gwen loves them, and her own refrigerator was full, so she kept some of them here. You shouldn't have showed up without warning, Maeve. If you had told me you were coming, this wouldn't have happened."

I stared at him, realizing how unfamiliar he had become.

"Im going to drive Gwen home. You should take some time to calm down," he said.

With those words, he took Gwen's hand and led her out of the apartment.

My phone buzzed in my hand. It was a message from my regional director.

I need your final decision on the transfer by tonight.

My fingers shook as I typed out my reply. The Northern branch.

The director replied almost instantly. Understood. Ill book your flight for tomorrow.

After what felt like hours, the front door opened, bringing in the faint scent of Gwen's sweet perfume.

Gaff walked into the living room, reaching out to wrap his arms around me, leaning in to kiss my lips.

I stepped back, escaping his touch. "We broke up, Gaff. Don't touch me."

Gaffs expression cooled, his eyes turning dark.

"Maeve, you made your point earlier. But you're not a child anymore. Throwing tantrums like this is getting old."

My voice remained entirely calm. "Im not throwing a tantrum. I am leaving you."

The silence in the room became heavy. Gaff stared at me, a look of genuine disbelief crossing his face.

"You're really going to end a seven-year relationship over a few strawberries?"

A quiet ache settled in my chest.

I remembered when we were children at the group home. A boy had played a prank on me, hiding a strawberry in my lunchbox. I had stood there, shaking and crying, as the other kids laughed at me.

The next day, that boy had opened his desk to find a live snake inside, turning pale with terror.

It had been Gaff's doing.

When the director of the home had demanded an apology, Gaff had stood tall, refusing to back down. He put a strawberry in Maeves lunchbox. He deserved it.

It was just a harmless joke, the director had argued.

It might be a joke to you, Gaff had shot back, glaring at everyone in the room. But to me, anything that hurts Maeve is the most important thing in the world. If any of you try it again, see what happens.

"Gaff, wait. A cockroach?"

Gaffs voice broke through my memory as he answered his phone.

His tone turned frantic. "Gwen is absolutely terrified of bugs. I need to go help her. Ill be right back."

"Gaff," I called out.

"Since when is a cockroach a life-or-death emergency?"

The only answer I received was the heavy slam of the front door.

I stood alone in the quiet apartment, the August air suddenly feeling incredibly cold.

My phone buzzed with the flight confirmation from my director.

Departure: Tomorrow at 3:20 PM. Destination: The Northern Branch.

The next morning, Gaff insisted on taking me for a drive, claiming we were going to hike.

After forty minutes, the car pulled up outside a modern apartment complex. I looked at him in confusion.

"I promised Gwen we would go hiking today," he explained, not looking at me. "She didn't want you to feel left out, so she suggested we bring you along."

He added a touch of scolding to his voice. "See how considerate she is? You really shouldn't have reacted the way you did yesterday."

I turned my head away, staring out the window as a sharp pain flared in my chest.

Gwen walked up to the car, wearing a white t-shirt with a massive strawberry printed on the front. I closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing.

"Gwen gets carsick easily, so she should sit in the front," Gaff said.

I looked at him, stunned.

He had once promised me that the front passenger seat was my exclusive spot, and that he would never let another woman sit there.

"It's fine, Gaff. I can sit in the back," Gwen said, though she remained standing by the passenger door, not making any move to open the back.

Gaffs expression darkened, his voice dropping. "Maeve, don't make things difficult for Gwen today."

Without a word, I opened the door and climbed into the back seat.

It didn't matter. After today, I would never have to sit in his car again.

At the summit of the mountain, Gwen pointed at the bungee jumping platform. "Gaff, I want to try that! Will you jump with me?"

Gaff froze, a look of terror crossing his face.

He was deathly afraid of heights. Years ago, when I had stood near a ledge, he had begged me on his knees, sobbing, too terrified to take a single step closer.

But now, Gaff looked at the drop, took a deep breath, and nodded. "Okay, Ill jump with you."

I watched in silence.

Gaff put on the harness, wrapped his arms tightly around Gwen, and together, they plunged into the open air.

The mountain wind howled around me, feeling incredibly cold.

When they returned, they were flush with excitement, laughing and sharing their experience.

"Gaff, you're the best! I would have never had the courage to jump without you!"

"I promised I would always be there to help you face your fears, didn't I?"

Gaff then turned to me, his tone carrying a heavy significance. "Maeve, you should try to face your fears too. Just like I did."

He didn't say the word strawberries because of Gwen, but I knew exactly what he meant.

Gwen reached out, taking my arm. "Maeve has already been so brave today!"

She pointed to her shirt. "I wore this strawberry shirt on purpose, and she didn't panic at all. See, my exposure therapy is working!"

She turned to Gaff, smiling. "Gaff, tell me I did a good job."

Gwen then pulled a small plastic container of strawberries from her bag, holding one out to my lips. "Maeve, it wasn't your fault. Just take one bite, and you'll see theres nothing to be afraid of. You can finally put the past behind you."

I stared at her, my eyes wide. "How do you know about that?"

"I..." Gwen stammered, looking at Gaff.

The wind swept over the peak, carrying a sudden, heavy silence.

I looked at Gaff. "You told her?"

Gaff looked away, struggling to find his words. "I... I just wanted to help you. You can't let this keep holding you back..."

The world seemed to crumble around me.

After that night in the pantry, I had spent ten years waking up screaming from nightmares. The day I turned eighteen, Gaff had taken me away from the children's home, promising to keep my secret safe forever, to let us build a life where no one knew our pain.

Yet now, he had handed my deepest, most painful vulnerability to another woman, treating it as a casual topic of conversation.

My phone rang. It was my director.

"Maeve, I noticed you haven't checked in for your flight. Are you having second thoughts?"

I bit down hard on my hand, fighting back the sob that threatened to escape.

"Maeve? Are you there?"

After a long pause, I forced my voice to remain steady. "I'm here. The signal was weak. I'm on my way to the airport now."

"Excellent. Ill see you in the North."

After hanging up, I took a taxi back to Gaff's apartment to gather my belongings. My suitcase was quickly packed; I had brought very little with me.

Before leaving, I took one last look at the apartment.

In the entryway shoe rack, there were three pairs of women's shoes. Two of them were not mine.

In the corner, covered in dust and cobwebs, lay the Rolex I had gifted him for his birthday.

I picked it up and tossed it into the trash can.

Gwen's pillows sat on the sofa, her makeup sat on the sink, and her towel hung next to Gaff's in the bathroom.

Gaff and I had been together for seven years, but his home held no trace of me. It belonged entirely to Gwen.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from Gaff.

Gwen is really upset because of your reaction. I'll explain everything once I calm her down.

I didn't reply.

I shut the door behind me and walked away, never looking back.