The hot soup on the stove began to steam.

Returning from my thoughts, I turned off the heat and carried the soup out, slightly burning my hand in the process. I didn’t mind.

Crispin was starting to regain his senses, sitting up with his head in his hands. He still looked a bit disoriented.

I set the soup in front of him.

He stared at me silently, his eyes filled with curiosity.

“Why do you always...”

I knew what he was going to ask, having heard it many times before.

The question was always the same: why I was willing to stay by his side, why I endured his humiliation.

I recalled how I used to answer.

With a sweet smile, I gave the same response as before: “Because I like you, I’m willing to tolerate everything about you.”

I felt my tone was a bit exaggerated, almost as if I had become part of my own performance.

However, Crispin didn’t storm off with a cold face, and left me with the single word “boring” as usual. Instead, he remained seated, staring at me without blinking, and responded quietly, “Mm.”

I pushed the soup closer to him, but his gaze remained fixed on the burn on my hand.

Without saying a word, he drank the soup in one go.

The temperature was just right.

The next morning, when I woke up, Crispin was already gone.

I was used to this scenario. Besides, today was the day Jillian returned to the country.

I pondered when Crispin would come back to inform me about this, so I could use it as an excuse to break up with him.

Having anticipated what was about to happen, I began to pack up my things from this house.

To my surprise, I found that I didn’t have much to pack.

So by the time Crispin returned, I had already finished tidying up.

Everything was ready for when Crispin came back to tell me to leave.

But to my surprise, I waited for several days.

Crispin didn’t come back until two weeks later.

When he did return, I noticed something unusual about him right away.

The mole that had tormented me so was now gone from the corner of his eye.

Before he could speak, I seized the moment and asked, “Where’s the mole at the corner of your eye?”

Crispin was already somewhat annoyed. He had spent these days with Jillian, but my image kept appearing in his mind, even though his affections were supposed to be for Jillian.

Frustrated, he decided to come back and check on me.

But to his surprise, instead of expressing concern for his well-being as usual, I was fixated on a seemingly trivial mole.

He chose to ignore me, glaring coldly, trying to erase me from his thoughts.

I understood this was a perfect opportunity to leave.

So I pressed on, “I’m asking you, where’s the mole at the corner of your eye?”

Seeing my insistence, Crispin grew even more frustrated. He regretted leaving Jillian’s comforting presence for this confrontation.

“What does it matter to you?”

I maintained a serious expression, as if I had lost something significant, and quietly said, “Crispin, let’s break up.”