After I slapped Naomi, she started crying immediately, clutching her cheek like I’d done something unspeakable.
“How dare you?” Oliver yelled, stepping in front of her. He shoved me back with enough force to make me stumble.
“How dare you hurt Naomi! She just got out of the hospital!”
I straightened, glaring at him. “Of course, you’d defend her,” I said sharply. “That’s all you ever do. I’m done with this, Oliver. I’m done with you. If you want her so badly, go be with her. We’re over.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You can’t break up with me. You can’t live without me.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “No, Oliver. You’re the one who can’t live without me. And I’ll prove it.”
I turned to leave, my bag in hand. As I reached the door, I heard him behind me, his voice calm and dismissive as he spoke to Naomi. “Don’t worry, she’ll get over it. She always does. Just like before. It’s just another one of her tantrums.”
His words hit me harder than anything else that night. For a moment, I froze, remembering all the times I’d been like that—angry at him, only to apologize later, even when he was at fault. I had always come back, always forgiven him.