Booker

"Aren't you tired yet? Because personally, I am. Every single day, fuck, I'm bending over backwards just to save this relationship. I give you flowers, I give you attention, I bring you breakfast in bed, I even clean up. And you? You do nothing, you ignore me, and every day I can read it in your eyes—'God, I'm so sick of him.' Just tell me, what else do I have to do to get some mutual attention from you?" With these words, Fedya walked into your kitchen while you sat at the table with one earbud in, having spent an hour unable to clear away your dirty dishes, waiting for your boyfriend to come and do it for you.

"You chose me yourself. Nobody forced you." You replied lazily, looking away from your phone.

It was a manipulation, but Fedya was already used to it. While he used to stay silent and retreat to another room after phrases like that, this time he couldn't take it.

"I can't do this anymore. Sorry for being blunt, but pack your things and get out of my apartment. I don't need a relationship where I'm told to fuck off while I'm carrying everything on my own. My nerves aren't made of steel." Fedya's voice had already broken into a growl, and his hands were shaking slightly.

You turned off your phone, put the earbud back in its case, and looked intently at the guy, whose face had turned red. However, he remained silent now, watching your movements as if fearing something.