When Ryan and I decided to split up, we promised to keep it as civil as possible. After all, we’d shared five years together, a little apartment filled with potted plants and shared furniture, and a tabby cat named Milo. I knew the breakup would hurt, but I hoped the transition would be gentle—a gradual untangling rather than a dramatic ending.
What I didn’t expect was to find a handwritten list taped to the refrigerator after Ryan packed his last box and walked out the door.
The Rules of a Relationship (After It Ends)
It was titled “Suggestions for the Apartment,” but it read like a manifesto. The list started simply enough:
- Water the plants on Mondays and Thursdays.
- Don’t forget Milo’s special food.
But as I read on, the rules got stranger: - Please keep the blinds at half-mast, it keeps the apartment from feeling “too empty.”
- Try not to rearrange the furniture for at least a month—it’ll help you adjust.
- If you ever get sad, play our “cooking playlist” on Spotify—it always made things better.
By the time I reached the end—“Don’t forget to dance in the kitchen every once in a while. It’s good for the soul.”—I was crying and laughing all at once.
The Mixed Messages
Was this his way of holding on, or a genuine attempt to help me move forward? The rules were part practical, part poetic—little reminders of our shared life, now gently guiding me into my new one. I felt every emotion at once: gratitude, anger, nostalgia, even hope.
At first, I followed the rules to the letter. I watered the plants, fed Milo his favorite tuna, left the blinds halfway down. I avoided moving the couch, and let the “cooking playlist” fill the silence. The routines gave me comfort, a sense of Ryan lingering in the apartment, wishing me well.
Learning to Let Go
But after a few weeks, the list began to feel less like a gift and more like a weight. Was I really living, or just honoring the memory of us? One afternoon, on a whim, I opened the blinds all the way and let the sunlight pour in. I moved the armchair to face the window, bought a new set of pillows, and started my own playlist.
It wasn’t betrayal—it was reclaiming my space, step by step.
Finding My Own Way
Breakups are always messy, but Ryan’s rules reminded me that endings can also be kind. He’d wanted to leave me with care, but I needed to learn how to care for myself again—on my terms, in my way.
Eventually, I took the list down. I folded it into a drawer, next to old birthday cards and photos of happier times. I still play our kitchen song when I want to remember, but now I dance in the sunlight, not the shadows.
Final Thought
When someone leaves, they sometimes leave behind more than you expect. If you find yourself holding onto old rules, remember: kindness matters, but so does letting go. It’s your life, your space, your next chapter—write your own list, and let the light in.
