PART 3
That was my mistake.
The next morning, I woke up hopeful.
I’d even bought groceries the night before. Spinach. Eggs. Chicken. Real food. I left a little note on the fridge: “Proud of you ❤️”
When I came home from class that evening, Ethan was on the couch.
Eating a family-size bag of chips.
The groceries hadn’t been touched. 🥔
“Hey,” I said carefully. “How was today?”
“Good.” He didn’t look up from his phone.
“Did you… look into the diet stuff? Or maybe call a doctor?”
“Not yet. Tomorrow.”
Ten minutes later, he was asleep.
Phone on his chest. Chip bag tipped over. Crumbs on the cushion.
I stood there looking at him. And I felt something I’d never felt toward him before.
Not sadness.
Not frustration.
Nothing. 😶
The next day, it was the same.
No doctor. No diet changes. No conversation. Like the night before had never happened.
So that evening, I asked him again. Gently.
“Ethan, you promised. Can we please look at your diet tonight? Even just one small thing?”
He sighed. Rolled his eyes.
“Can you stop nagging me?”
“I’m not nagging. You promised.”
“You always do this.”
“Do what? Ask you to keep your word?”
And just like that, we were fighting.
Real fighting. Raised voices. Months — years — of frustration finally pouring out.
And then, in the middle of it all, he said something that stopped me cold.
“Look, I only said that stuff to shut you up, okay?”
I stared at him.
“…What?”
He threw up his hands.
“The promises. I don’t actually mean them. I just say them so you’ll drop it.”
My heart stopped. 💔
“How long?” I whispered.
He shrugged.
“Years, I guess.”
“About the sleeping?”
“About everything.”
Everything.
Every “I’ll change, babe.” Every “you’re right, I’m sorry.” Every “I promise.”
For years.
All of it was just… noise. Words to get me to be quiet.
But he wasn’t done.
“And honestly,” he said, “when I say sorry, you’re supposed to forgive me. That’s how it works. I apologized. It’s over.”
“That’s not how apologies work, Ethan.”
“Yes, it is. And it’s not okay for you to stay mad at me after I say sorry.”
“But you get mad at me all the time.”
“That’s different.”
“How is that different?”
He didn’t answer. He just looked at me like I was the unreasonable one. 🙄
I felt like I was talking to a stranger.
Four years together, and I was only now seeing who he really was.
And it hurt. God, it hurt so much.
I started to cry.
Not loud. Just tears, rolling down my face that I couldn’t stop.
Ethan stood there watching me.
Then he said:
“I don’t know what to say.”
And he turned around…
…and went to bed.
I sat alone on the kitchen floor and cried.
For a long, long time. 😢
At one point, I could hear him snoring through the bedroom door.
He’d fallen asleep while I was crying.
And sitting there, I realized something:
That was the whole relationship.
Me, hurting. Him, sleeping.
Me, trying. Him, promising.
Me, alone. Even with him right there.
I didn’t sleep that night.
I sat at the kitchen table until the sun came up, staring at the note still stuck on the fridge.
“Proud of you ❤️”
At 6 a.m., I took it down. Folded it up. Threw it away.
Then I made a decision.
When Ethan woke up, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed.
“Hey,” he mumbled. “What time is it?”
“Ethan,” I said. “I’m breaking up with you.”
He sat up so fast he almost fell out of bed.
Suddenly, he was wide awake. Funny how that works. 🙃
“What? Wait. Over last night?”
“Over four years.”
“Babe, come on. I’ll change. I promise—”
I actually laughed. A tired, sad laugh.
“You told me last night your promises are just to shut me up.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
“I can’t keep living with someone who sleeps through my life,” I said. “I deserve someone who’s awake for me.”
He started crying. Real tears. Begging. More promises. I’ll go to the doctor today. I’ll change my diet. I’ll do anything.
And part of me wanted to believe him.
But I’d believed him for four years.
I was done. 🚪
I packed a bag and went to stay with my sister for a few weeks.
Before I left, I did one last thing.
I called his best friend, Josh.
“Hey. I’m leaving Ethan,” I told him. “But… I’m still worried about him. The sleeping thing. It could really be something medical. Can you keep an eye on him? Make sure he’s okay?”
Josh was quiet for a second.
“Yeah,” he said. “Of course. That’s… really kind of you. After everything.”
“I don’t hate him,” I said. “I just can’t fix him.”
It’s been about a month now.
Ethan texted a few times. More promises. More “I’ve changed.” Then, a couple of weeks ago, Josh told me something.
Ethan finally went to the doctor.
They’re running tests. Bloodwork. A sleep study. They think it could be something with his iron, or his thyroid, or his terrible diet. Maybe all three.
He went because I left.
Not because I asked. Not because I begged for two years. Because I left.
And honestly? I’m glad he’s finally getting help. I really am. 🙏
Maybe without someone to blame or lean on, he’ll finally face his own problems.
That’s the best thing I could give him. Even if it wasn’t what he wanted.
And me?
I got the research position.
I’m working harder than ever. Long days. Late nights.
But when I come home now, I’m not tiptoeing. I’m not whispering. I’m not talking to someone who’s asleep.
Last weekend, I invited my friends over for a movie night. We stayed up laughing until 2 a.m. Nobody fell asleep. Nobody had to be quiet.
And when the movie ended, I looked around the room at all those wide-awake, smiling faces…
…and I realized I wasn’t lonely anymore. ✨
Here’s what I learned:
An apology without change isn’t an apology.
It’s just words. Sounds in the air. Gone the moment they’re spoken.
And “I’m sorry” means nothing…
…if they go right back to sleep. 😴💔
