His Doormat Wore White Instead

Before Joshua and I ever started dating, he made one thing ruthlessly clear: he was not a man who apologized. He didn't soothe ruffled feathers, he didn't grovel, and he never, ever chased. So when our ninth blowout fight spiraled into another frosty standoff, I did what I had always done—I swallowed my pride and walked up to his penthouse to offer the olive branch. Every time we fought, Joshua would pack an overnight bag and retreat to his own place downtown, waiting like a king in exile. And every single time, I was the one who showed up at his doorstep, giving him the graceful exit he demanded. I reached his door, my knuckles raised to knock, when the sound of careless laughter drifted through the gap. "Come on, Joshua, you're really not gonna throw the girl a bone?" "Seriously, man. If Elise finds out you bought flowers and a designer purse just to beg your cute little assistant for forgiveness last night, she’s gonna lose her mind and dump you." Joshua let out a low, amused scoff. "Dump me? Elise?" His tone dripped with effortless condescension. "She’s so hopelessly wrapped around my finger, it’s pathetic. Give her three days of radio silence and she starts clawing at the walls. She’d never dare leave." He paused, a quiet, indulgent sigh slipping into his voice. "Amber is different. If I don't pamper Amber, she’ll actually ice me out for a whole month." My hand froze in midair. The blood in my veins turned to ice water. It wasn't that he didn't know how to comfort someone. It wasn't that he was too proud to chase. He just didn't care enough to do it for me. And if that was the case, then this pathetic, lovesick fool was officially done chasing. ... "Oh, stop it!" Amber’s voice chimed in, bright and syrupy. "I wouldn't ignore you for a whole month! Two weeks tops!" Joshua chuckled, his voice thick with a warmth I hadn't heard in years. "Two weeks is still two weeks too long. Better to just keep you happy." I pulled my hand back. My shoes felt like they were filled with wet cement, anchoring me to the plush hallway carpet. Inside, one of his fraternity brothers whistled. "Man, you’ve got it made. But for real, you’re not even a little worried Elise is gonna blow up your life?" Joshua took his time answering. A drag of a cigarette, a soft exhale. "Worst-case scenario? We break up." He paused, his voice laden with lazy amusement. "Then again... do you really think she has the guts to walk away from me?" A roar of laughter erupted through the heavy oak door. "Fair point. Every single time you two fight, no matter who started it, she’s always the one on her knees begging for peace." "She’s head-over-heels obsessed with you, man." Joshua didn't dispute a single word. When it came to me, he had always held all the cards, and he knew it. Amber giggled, tossing in her own smug guarantee. "Don't worry, she’ll be here tonight. You guys don't even know—last time before she came over, she sent Joshua this giant, pathetic essay spilling her guts. I literally texted back 'UNSUBSCRIBE' from his phone. You should've seen her face when she walked through the door. Ghost white!" She burst into peals of laughter. Outside in the dim corridor, a bitter, self-mocking smile crept onto my lips. So "that" was who sent that text. When I had arrived that night, Amber was lounging on his sofa. She hadn't flinched, hadn't looked remotely guilty. She had just offered me a pair of guest slippers with a hostess's practiced grace, as if she were the woman living there. "Honestly," Amber added, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, "her little essay was so well-written I almost felt bad enough to forgive her on your behalf. Right, boss?" Joshua’s reply was a stroke of tender indulgence. "Right. Whatever you say." "Let’s make a bet," Amber said playfully. "Let’s bet on... what time Elise shows up tonight." The dull clink of Joshua crushing his cigarette into a glass tray echoed through the hallway. "Fine. Put me down for tonight." "Hell yeah! You guys never go past three days of the silent treatment, right?" someone called out. "Never," Joshua replied smoothly. "Well, today’s day three. Looks like you're taking the pot, Joshua." Standing in the cold hallway, the pieces clicked together with agonizing clarity. Three years together, and we rarely fought—not because we were harmonious, but because whenever a fissure appeared, I scrambled to patch it before the seventy-two-hour mark. I was always the one handing him the script to make amends. This was our ninth fight. Today was day three. Inside, the chatter grew louder, everyone congratulating Joshua on his guaranteed victory. Joshua basked in it. "Elise can’t handle being ignored. The second I pull away, she panics and comes running back on her own. It’s hopeless. She's pathetic like that." My desperate attempts to save our relationship had been nothing more than a spectator sport to him—a badge proving I was a dog that would never stop begging. I let out a quiet, hollow laugh. Unfortunately for him, he was about to lose that bet. This time, nobody was coming to smooth things over. ... Joshua didn't come home until the following evening. His expression was dark, his jaw tight with irritation. The moment he stepped through the door, his eyes locked onto me, his brow furrowing deep. "Why didn't you come by last night?" At midnight, Amber had posted a video on her social feed, teasing Joshua for losing their little bet. In the clip, Joshua’s face had been stone-cold, his frustration barely masked beneath a veneer of swagger. Looking directly into her camera, he had muttered, "Doesn't matter. If she doesn't crawl back today, she will tomorrow." Yet throughout the entire day, my phone had remained silent. No calls. No long paragraphs. He had only come home because the predictable script had failed to play out. "Why should I have?" I put down my coffee mug and looked straight into his eyes. Joshua blinked, visibly thrown off balance by the bluntness in my tone. Then, a flicker of understanding crossed his face, followed by a faint, derisive smirk. "Trying out a new tactic this time?" "No," I said evenly. "I just finally grew a brain." He stared at me, his arms crossed over his chest. "If it wasn't my mistake," I said, my voice dangerously calm, "why should I be the one bowing my head?" The root of this ninth fight had been a smear of plum lipstick on his collar. Amber’s shade. Shortly after Joshua had walked through the door that night, a text had popped up from her—dripping with fake innocence—apologizing for accidentally grazing his shirt during an office run, begging me not to take it the wrong way or fight with him over a silly misunderstanding. When I pressed Joshua about it, he called me paranoid. The conversation spiraled into a screaming match. Nine fights in three years. Every single one of them had Amber’s fingerprints all over it. Ever since she became his executive assistant a year ago, the foundation of our life had begun to rot. When I once asked him to transfer her to a different department, do you know what he told me? He told me my mind was filthy. He said that without a legitimate professional reason, transferring her would be an abuse of power. "What is that supposed to mean?" Joshua asked, his voice hardening. I met his gaze, ignoring his question, and asked one of my own: "Joshua, in your eyes, was my love just me being a pathetic pushover?" Silence fell over the room. He didn't deny it. Even though I had already heard the truth with my own ears, a sickening hollow opened up in the center of my ribs. Three years of devotion, reduced to a punchline. The heartfelt messages I poured my soul into, handed over to his assistant to mock. The grace I offered him, turned into a drinking game for his friends. "You were outside my place yesterday?" he asked, finally putting the pieces together. "I was," I said without flinching. "I heard everything." "Oh." His features barely shifted, settling back into that infuriating, dismissive calm. "No wonder you're acting out." He gave a short, careless chuckle. "It was just a joke, Elise." "A joke." Everything in Joshua’s world was a joke. Taking shots with Amber with their arms linked at company dinners was a joke. Filling his Instagram story with candids of her was a joke. Letting her kiss his cheek when he lost a party game was a joke. And making bets on my dignity was just another harmless joke. What wasn't a joke to him? Was refusing to ever comfort his girlfriend while buying bags and bouquets for his assistant just another punchline? Seeing my silence, Joshua’s posture softened by a fraction. "Don't make a mountain out of a molehill. Guys talk shit when they drink. Nobody takes it seriously..." "You bought her flowers and a designer purse to apologize," I cut in, my voice level. "Didn't you?" Three years. He had never once apologized to me. To say it didn't hurt would be a lie. Three years of my youth, crushed under the heel of his indifference. "You’re really hung up on that?" Joshua sighed, annoyed. "Amber is my assistant. She represents my firm when we meet high-end clients. She needed a decent bag to look the part. And the flowers..." He rubbed his temples. "I picked them up on a whim. She made a rookie mistake on a filing, I came down hard on her, and she got upset. I just bought them to smooth things over." "To smooth things over." Those words tasted like battery acid. On our very first anniversary, he looked me in the eye and told me he didn't know how to coddle people. He told me he would never be the guy who groveled. So I spent three years bending over backward, shaping myself into the girl who never demanded anything, never made a fuss. He didn't lack the ability to soothe someone. He just didn't think I was worth the effort. A lump tightened in my throat. It took several seconds before I managed to force out a whisper: "Right. Understood." Joshua looked at me, perplexed by the lack of tears or screaming. Before he could speak, his phone began to buzz against the marble counter. He glanced at the screen, then shot me a guarded look before stepping into the hallway to answer it. When he returned, his mask of effortless control was back in place. "Let’s just consider this silent treatment over," he announced, as if granting me a royal pardon. He locked his phone and slid it into his slacks. "Something came up at the office. I need to head back in." A routine lie. Practiced and polished. My expression didn't waver. "Go ahead." Without a second glance, he grabbed his keys and walked out. I waited two minutes, grabbed my jacket, and followed. ... Joshua’s sleek black sedan pulled up to the valet stand of an upscale private lounge downtown. I slipped inside the building a few paces behind him, riding the elevator up to the sixth floor, where the private VIP suites were tucked away behind heavy velvet curtains. I paused outside suite 602. Through the frosted glass panel, Amber’s bright, bubbly laughter rang out clear as day. "Did you manage to calm her down, boss? Was she thrilled that you actually went home to her?" Amber giggled. "Honestly, she’s so easy to handle. One crumb of attention from you and all her anger just evaporates." A mutual acquaintance chimed in: "Seriously, man, I've never seen a girlfriend that low-maintenance. Usually she’s the one chasing you, but you just show up once and it’s like nothing ever happened." "Joshua, drop the masterclass, bro," someone else laughed. "How do you train a girl to be that obedient?" Joshua tossed out a lazy curse. "Shut up." He paused, swirling the ice in his glass. "Elise has always been easy. Even after hearing what we said yesterday, she didn't scream at me. A couple of words and she was fine." Amber gasped softly. "Wait, she actually came by yesterday?" "Yeah." Another wave of snickering swept the room. Some called me hopelessly devoted; others joked that I was a stray that would never leave no matter how hard I was kicked. They praised Joshua for having me wrapped around his little finger. I stood in the dim corridor, taking in every single syllable. So that was why he had suddenly come home. That was why he had offered that half-assed truce. A faint, hollow laugh tore from my chest. The suite door suddenly swung open from the inside. "Elise?" The guy holding the handle froze, his face draining of color. The room instantly plunged into dead silence. Joshua stepped forward, a momentary flicker of guilt flashing across his eyes before his brow knit into an irritated scowl. "Were you following me?" I looked into his eyes, tilting my head slightly. "Didn't you say there was an emergency at the office?" I glanced past his shoulder, letting my gaze drift over the silver balloons, the custom cake, and finally landing on Amber’s wide, guilty eyes, before looking back at Joshua. "This is your emergency?" Joshua’s tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. Amber quickly hurried over, plastering a fragile smile across her face. "Elise, please don't be mad at Joshua. Today is my birthday. He only came to help me celebrate. He only said it was work because he didn't want you to overthink things." She sounded like she was playing the peacemaker, but the gleam of triumph in her eyes was sharp enough to draw blood. I didn't scream. I didn't flip the table. I just nodded slowly. "Is that so? Happy birthday, then." My unnatural calm caught Amber completely off guard. Her rehearsed smile froze. Joshua grabbed my wrist, pulling me a few steps down the empty hall before letting go. "Elise, what are you trying to pull here?" Looking at the tension in his jaw, I almost wanted to laugh. "Nothing," I whispered. "I just wanted to make sure of something." His scowl deepened. "Make sure of what?" "Make sure that every last piece of my heart is completely dead." When I didn't answer, Joshua parted his lips to say something more, but Amber was already at his side, sliding her arm through his with the practiced ease of someone who had done it a hundred times. He didn't pull away. "Joshua, the games are starting! Everyone's waiting for you," she chirped, before turning to me with a saccharine pout. "Elise, why don't you join us?" "No thanks," I said. Amber stuck out her tongue playfully. "Alright then. But... you aren't really mad, are you?" "Not at all," I replied. Joshua studied my face, utterly baffled by my complete lack of resistance. Yet the relief won out. "Go home and get some sleep. Don't wait up for me." The suite door clicked shut behind them. I stood alone under the fluorescent lights of the hallway, blinking rapidly against the sharp sting behind my eyes, forcing the tears back down. My phone buzzed in my palm. A notification lit up the dark screen—a message from a contact I had saved three days ago. "Hello Elise, this is Marcus. If you're free, we should meet and finalize the details." I lowered my eyes, my thumb tapping out a single, steady reply. "Let's do it." ... Joshua didn't return until late the next morning. He was wearing a fresh button-down, crisp and unwrinkled. Catching me looking at him, he immediately offered a preemptive excuse: "Amber had too much to drink last night and threw up on my jacket. I had to buy a clean shirt at the hotel lobby shop. Don't read into it." I looked away. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't reading into anything anymore, but the words felt like too much effort. Joshua ladled a bowl of oatmeal and sat down across from me at the kitchen island. "I'm leaving for a business trip this afternoon. I'll be gone for about a week." "With who?" I asked quietly. He paused for a beat. "Amber is my assistant. She’s coming with me." I gave a faint nod and kept eating. I had already known the answer before asking. "Joshua, let's break up." I set my spoon down onto the ceramic bowl with a soft, dull clatter. "I’ve already packed my things. I’m moving out today." Joshua froze. He looked at me as if I were speaking a foreign language. "What did you say?" The kitchen was so quiet I could hear the hum of the refrigerator. I looked directly into his dark, bewildered eyes. "I said, we're done. I'm leaving." Joshua stared at me, then let out a breathy, dismissive laugh. "Elise, what kind of joke is this?" He shook his head, leaning forward. "Look, I lied about last night because I didn't want you spiraling. It was a dumb party. Is that really worth throwing three years away?" One small thing wasn't worth it. But a mountain of small betrayals, stacked high over twelve agonizing months, had crushed everything beneath them. "If it’s about the party, I apologize," Joshua offered, his lips curving into a placating half-smile. "Stop talking out of anger." I looked at him, completely checked out, refusing to engage in the debate. He took my silence as surrender, assuming I had folded just like every other time. "Look, there's nothing going on between me and Amber," he added, his voice smooth with practiced reassurance. "Stop letting your imagination run wild." That sentence again. I had heard it so many times I was entirely numb to its cadence. "Okay," I murmured, and said nothing more. Twenty minutes later, the front door chime rang, followed by the electronic beep of the keypad. Amber strolled inside. "Last time I stayed over after that company mixer, Joshua gave me the door code so I wouldn't have to ring the bell," she chirped, blinking with wide, faux-innocent eyes. "You don't mind, do you, Elise?" The girl wore her ambition on her sleeve. Transparent, greedy, and utterly brazen. "Not at all," I said calmly. "Come and go as you please." It had nothing to do with me anymore. He could hand the code to the entire city for all I cared. "I wasn't even supposed to go on this trip," Amber continued, watching my face for any sign of a crack. "Joshua insisted on bringing me. He said I need more exposure to high-level negotiations so nobody in the industry takes advantage of me." During the first grueling year of Joshua’s startup, I had stayed up with him until three in the morning every night, surviving on black coffee and cheap takeout, enduring the condescension of every investor in town just to secure a meeting. And now, the road we had paved with my sweat and tears was being laid out as a red carpet for her. My face remained a smooth sheet of ice. "Good for you. Best of luck." Joshua came down the stairs carrying his leather weekender bag, catching the tail end of our conversation. A flash of annoyance crossed his brow. "Elise, Amber didn't mean anything by it. Drop the passive-aggressive act." I didn't argue. I didn't say a word. "Well, we’re heading out, Elise!" Amber beamed, flashing a bright, triumphant smile. The day after Joshua boarded that flight, I cleared out the last of my belongings. Then, I drove downtown to meet Marcus, signing the paperwork that sealed the next chapter of my life. ... During that entire week out of town, Joshua didn't receive a single message from Elise. It was entirely unlike her. In three years, she had never gone seven whole days without checking in, asking about his schedule, or reminding him to take his vitamins. Joshua pushed the unsettling knot in his gut down, telling himself she was just being stubborn. "Boss, should we grab dinner before we head home?" Amber asked, strolling up to him in the terminal. She caught a glimpse of his open messaging screen. "Are you waiting for Elise to text?" Joshua locked his phone without answering. "Is she still mad at me?" Amber asked, her voice dropping into a fragile whisper. "Maybe I should go apologize to her when we get back." Joshua tucked his phone into his coat. "Forget dinner. Let’s just head straight back." Standing by the gate, he finally gave in and dialed Elise's number to let her know he was on his way home. The phone rang three times before clicking open. The voice that answered, however, wasn't hers. "I'm so sorry, the bride is currently busy doing the champagne toasts. If it's urgent, could you please call back later?"