Part 1The Unloved One

The day after my engagement, I stumbled upon a forum post online:

[What's the psychology behind people who knowingly become the other woman?]

The top comment immediately hit with that "profound truth":

[FYI, the unloved one is the side chick!]

[Even though my boyfriend already has a fiancée, I don't consider myself to be interfering in their relationship.]

[He gives me his time, money, and love. Every night he expends his energy on me, while his fiancée, who knows how long it's been since she's been 'satisfied'~]

Someone below asked how she could be so sure they weren't. This ID, "Stargazing Bunny," immediately replied:

[I put my exclusive temporary tattoo on that part of him—it's a bunny, you know~ Every time he comes to me, I check. If it's not there, I don't let him touch me. He guards it so carefully!]

[After all, I’m young and fresh, and his fiancée is old and withered. Only a fool wouldn’t know who to choose.]

[Yesterday was his fiancée's 28th birthday, and he didn't even go back to spend it with her. He just sent a "Happy Birthday" at midnight, oh, and he sent it while we were "exercising" in my bed. He even asked if it was exciting, so annoying~]

My fingers froze. Yesterday was my 28th birthday.

…

Almost instantly, I knew. Harrison Thorne was cheating.

I scrolled down further. Stargazing Bunny's profile had other posts.

The previous one, posted three days ago:

[Today I casually mentioned wanting to try that private kitchen on the West Side, and Mr. T drove me there at noon. It took over three hours round trip, just for me to have a meal. I fell asleep on the way back, and he let me rest my head on his arm the whole time.]

[His fiancée called to ask if he was coming home for dinner, and he said he was tied up at work. After hanging up, he winked at me and said, "Now, you are my work"~]

The accompanying photo was of a steering wheel. Outside the window was that familiar old street on the West Side.

No wonder that day, Harrison, who said he had a meeting. When he returned, he brought me the signature dessert from that West Side private kitchen. He said a colleague was passing by while on a project and knew I liked sweets, so he specifically had them bring me a portion. Even with his busy schedule, Harrison still thought of me. That feeling of being cherished moved me deeply. Now, it just made me sick to my stomach.

Scrolling further back. Stargazing Bunny had posted a fashion dilemma:

[Help me choose, ladies. Which outfit should I wear to the movies with Mr. T tomorrow? He usually wears business casual, and I don't want to be too formal or too casual. I'm so torn.]

The photo showed two small dresses spread out on a bed. I bet she chose the pale yellow floral dress. That night, Harrison, who had never commented on my outfits before, uncharacteristically asked me why I didn't wear floral dresses. Because I was too busy with work, I usually just wore whatever was most convenient. Afraid I'd misunderstand, Harrison immediately hugged me and explained:

"Of course, my wife looks good in anything. I was just thinking that when I have some free time, I'll take you on a beach vacation. You've always wanted to go to the Maldives, right?"

"Dresses look even more beautiful on the beach, especially bright colors like pale yellow, they give off such a sunny vibe..."

"And with some curled hair, it would make for great photos!"

Turns out he wasn't describing an outfit; he was describing a person. I took a deep breath, suppressing the dull, throbbing pain in my heart.

Last month, Stargazing Bunny posted two movie ticket stubs.

[The most classic romance movie, of course, has to be watched with the one you love.]

The showing time was 5:20 PM. That day was our five-year anniversary, Harrison’s and mine.

He was very earnest when he first pursued me. He'd bring me an umbrella when it rained, and wait downstairs when I interned late into the night. When I couldn't write my thesis, he'd help me outline it, patiently, again and again. My roommate said, "Guys like this are rare nowadays, you have to hold onto him."

I did hold onto him. For five years, Harrison was always good to me. He remembered my period, what I liked and disliked to eat, and all our important dates. He truly hadn't forgotten. But he had broken his promise.