Darien and my best friend Talia picked our house. Ignored my commute. Ignored my savings. Ignored me. Talia even claimed a guest room. When Darien shoved escrow papers at me, I walked out. He called it a tantrum. His excuse for her lipstick in my drawer? 'She can just grab it next time. Same thing.' Seven years of people-pleasing died that day. I bought a downtown apartment alone. Broke up. Moved out. When he begged for a chance, I said, 'This is my home. Not ours.
