Part 1Love, Hate, and Farewell

In the fourth year of our marriage, I realized I didn't love my husband at all.

His hand on my waist made my skin crawl.

Our nightly goodnight kiss felt like torture.

Even his clothes, fresh from the laundry, seemed to carry a foreign, unpleasant scent.

But I was the one who had pursued Nick Shaw so relentlessly. This was the bed I’d made, and now I had to lie in it, even if it meant choking back tears.

My unhappiness grew, and I wasted away, day by day.

Until one afternoon, I saw a conversation on his phone:

【How could you run out on me at a time like that!】

【She’s too in love with me. What if she couldn't live without me? I can't be that cruel.】

【If I hadn’t stepped aside back then, would you have chosen me?】

【Yes.】

That day, my mood lifted for the first time in months.

I devoured three whole bowls of egg fried rice.

* * *

The sofa felt crowded.

When Nick sat down, his long legs, clad in tailored trousers, naturally pressed against mine. I quietly shifted two inches away, letting out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

He didn’t seem to notice, surrounded as he was by a circle of fawning acquaintances. This reunion had been orchestrated by an old classmate who needed a favor, and Nick was, without question, the center of attention. He carried himself with an easy confidence, a calm that bordered on aloofness. His usual cool demeanor.

"You're a dark horse, man! A rising star in the business world in just a few years. Leaves the rest of us in the dust!"

"Anna, you're the one who really hit the jackpot! But you'd better keep a tight leash on him. Nick was getting love letters by the bundle back when he was a broke student. Now that he's made it, the women out there must be throwing themselves at him!"

"What's to be afraid of! The way Anna chased Nick back then was legendary! Now she’s gone from a feisty girl to a gorgeous socialite. She can handle any stray butterflies that come fluttering around!"

Amid the chorus of flattery, a woman in the corner let out a sharp scoff. It cut through the noise.

"Some people just have all the luck, I guess. It's amazing how a rich girl stealing someone's man can be spun into a fairytale romance. I guess it’s true what they say—everyone celebrates the new love and forgets the one who was left crying."

The words hung in the air, and an awkward silence fell over the group.

I turned to look at the speaker. I recognized her as one of the many girls who had sent Nick love letters back in the day. Her face was flushed crimson; she was clearly drunk.

Nick said nothing, merely lifting his wine glass for a slow sip. I understood his silent command: Stay quiet. Don’t engage.

Normally, I would have obeyed.

But not this time.

"The way you say that," I said, tilting my head, "you'd almost make people think you and Nick were a couple and I broke you up."

The woman froze, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. "I never said that! Don't twist my words. I was talking about someone else! Are you going to deny that you took advantage of the situation and snatched him from her?"

All eyes were on me now, gleaming with the thrill of impending drama. Her words were nasty, and even if I didn't want a fight, I had to set the record straight.

I looked directly at her. "Sorry to disappoint you, but when Nick and I got together, he was one hundred percent single. And if by 'someone else,' you mean—"

"That's enough."

Nick's voice was sharp, laced with annoyance. He set his glass down on the table with a soft thud, the red liquid sloshing inside. "Anna, it's just a joke between classmates. Don't be so dramatic. You're making a scene."

At his words, the other woman shot me a look of triumphant disdain.

I pressed my lips together. Dramatic? Someone insults me, and I'm not supposed to defend myself?

But as I opened my mouth to argue, a familiar sensation washed over me. It happened all the time lately. A certain phrase from Nick, a specific gesture, sometimes just the sound of his voice would trigger this strange feeling inside me.

It was like the seventh bite of a cake that's suddenly too sweet, a balloon shriveled and wrinkled, the bitter aftertaste of tea left out overnight.

All flavor was gone, leaving only a dull disinterest.

Suddenly, the whole argument felt pointless. I closed my mouth.

The reunion ended on a cheerful note, with everyone saying their goodbyes. As we turned to leave, Nick reached to put his arm around my waist. I subtly sidestepped, avoiding his touch.

His lips thinned. He gave me a long, hard look.