The first time he did it, I froze, but I thought it just happened and he wasn’t going to do it again. We were in an Uber when he finished drinking water and threw the sachet out of the window and smiled as if nothing happened. I didn’t say a word until it happened again. Again, we were in a car when he threw a wrapper out of the window.

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I said, “Why don’t you fold it nicely and keep it in the car?” He replied, “This is someone’s office; you can’t keep it dirty.” I insisted, “Then keep it in your pocket or somewhere. You’ll always get a better place to dump it.”

“I should keep trash in my pocket?” he asked and laughed.

Not long after that day, he did it again. He then looked at my face and smiled. He said, “I know you want to say something. Go ahead. Say it.”

I didn’t say a word. We were going to his place, but I stopped along the way and got a taxi home. He didn’t try to stop me. Not as though I would have stopped if he tried.

He called and said I was petty and told me the man who invented hygiene died because of hygiene. It looked so small to him, but to be honest, it said a lot about him than he could admit.

The fact that he wouldn’t do something as little as not throwing trash out the window for my sake meant he wouldn’t do a lot of things for me. Then I started imagining how our home would be like when we settled down. The sight wasn’t pretty, so I walked out before he could get the chance to throw our love out of the window too.

He’s back telling me not to be petty. He wants me to take him back without accepting that he made a mistake. He’s busy sending me messages explaining his actions, but naaa, this won’t work for me. Or the fault is mine?

—Mari

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