Page 14 of The Breaking Point

She doesn’t answer right away. Then she says, “Therapy. Talking. Figuring out whether you still love him.”

“Not good enough,” I say, putting down my empty glass.

“Okay then,” she mutters. “Let’s hear the cons.”

“He doesn’t like doing laundry.”

“Don’t you have a housekeeper?”

“Fine.” I start listing on my fingers. “He cheated on me. His mother still hates me. He doesn’t like spending time with me. Alone, I mean. He’s ashamed of me. He gives the bare minimum to our relationship.”

Quinn falls quiet, her lips pressed into a line. She doesn’t argue, doesn’t defend him. Just waits.

I look down at my hand, fingers still mid-count. “And I’m tired,” I say. “I’m so tired of begging for his attention, of the little scraps he throws my way.”

“You know you trained him for that,” Quinn says.

I blink. “Trained him for what?”

“Giving the bare minimum.”

“What are you talking about?”

She looks at me steadily. “You’re usually so strong. At work, with the boys. Even with me. Remember that douchebag I was dating? The one who kept asking me to cook for him?”

“Yeah,” I say, and despite everything, a tiny smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “You were like, ‘He’s just joking. Homemade food is healthy food.’ And I said, ‘He can make his own damn healthy food.’”

She snorts. “Exactly. And I did dump him. Because you saw it before I did. You always see it, except with Aiden. When it comes to him, all that strength just... disappears. You turn into someone else. Someone who bends backwards so far, I worry one day you’ll just snap.” She pauses, not angry, not condescending. Just steady. “You treat him like royalty. Like you’re some 1950s housewife and he’s the head of the household. And you have to serve him.”

She’s not judging. Not exactly. It’s more like she’s holding up a mirror. And for the first time, I’m actually looking.

“How come you never said this before?” I ask.

“I did,” she says. “You told me to stay out of your relationship.”

Right.

I take a slow, deep breath, sifting through thoughts that have been buried for years. “When Aiden first asked me out… I was shocked. Completely stunned.”

Quinn tilts her head. “Why?”

“Because he was Aiden.” The words come out too fast, too full. “He was the hottest guy in school. Tall, smart, charming. And somehow also a total nerd. God, he was a hot nerd.”

She smiles, but it’s faint. It doesn’t stay long.

“I felt like I’d won something,” I say softly. “Like I was chosen. All the girls liked him, but he wanted me. And that meant something. It made me feel… seen.”

Quinn stays quiet, listening.

“I’d never felt that before. Not truly. My parents had just left, and I was completely lost. Aiden… he grounded me. He was the first person who made me feel safe.”

I laugh, but it catches on something raw. “God. I sound so pathetic.”

Quinn doesn’t hesitate. Her voice is low but firm, too certain for comfort. “You don’t. You sound like someone whose parents abandoned them. And who transferred all those feelings onto the first person who didn’t.”

I freeze.

“What?”

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