Part 2The Unloved One

My fingers trembled, barely able to scroll the screen. I flipped to the very beginning. Last September, "Stargazing Bunny" posted several consecutive updates.

[Today at the gym, I met a super charismatic man! I was warming up, and he was running next to me. After finishing a set, I looked up and found him looking right at me. He even smiled.]

[When I was changing equipment, I accidentally knocked over my water bottle, and he immediately came over to help clean it up, asking if I got burned. His voice was so nice, a deep bass; it must be so sexy when he's breathing hard~]

[Today I saw a woman on his phone's lock screen. He said she was his fiancée, but not as pretty as me.]

[Damn it, why is such a disciplined and gentle man already taken? I don't care, I have to get him!]

Harrison had maintained a gym routine for many years. But he wasn’t very diligent in going every week. It seemed that it was from last September that he started frequenting the gym. At the time, I had discomfort in my lower back from sitting too long at the office and also thought about exercising. But Harrison said his gym was too far from my company and inconvenient. He actively helped me find another, nicer gym nearby and bought me an annual membership. I thought he was being considerate, thinking of me. Turns out, this was the real reason.

That man who swore he loved me, wanted to spend his life with me, and promised eternal fidelity. All his "overtime" and "busyness" for the past six months. He wasn't working hard for our future; he was spending all his time with another woman.

For a moment, I wanted to storm directly into Harrison’s company, in front of everyone. Throw the evidence in his face, demand to know why he did this to me. Humiliate him completely, ruin his reputation. But such a public showdown seemed so ugly. Five years together, why should it come to this?

I braced myself on the table and staggered into the restroom. Splashing cold water on my face, I calmed down slightly. Picking up my phone, I refreshed the page. "Stargazing Bunny" had just posted a new update.

[Tonight, he said he had a business dinner, but he really just didn’t want to go back to face that old woman~ Anyway, he’s here with me. We ordered crawfish and beer. He peels shrimp so seriously, more seriously than he takes off his own clothes, hehe.]

The accompanying picture showed a man's hands peeling shrimp, his knuckles distinct. Above that, his collar was slightly open, revealing a sexy collarbone and Adam's apple. This angle, this action—I was all too familiar with them. Once upon a time, Harrison used to sit across from me like this, peeling and deveining shrimp for me. I worried he was working too hard, but he just smiled and said:

“What’s so hard about serving my wife?”

“Anyway, in this life, I’ll only ever serve one woman: you.”

My phone suddenly vibrated. A message from Harrison: [Wife, I’ll be home a bit late. Want me to bring you some late-night food? Crawfish, do you want some?]

I stared at that line of text for a long time. Every time he said that before, I would send a happy emoji. I paused, then typed: [No thanks, I’m not hungry.]

He replied instantly: [Okay then, get some rest if you’re tired.]

The sound of the lock turning. I looked at the clock, 10:30 PM. Harrison pushed the door open, carrying a cake box. Seeing me sitting in the living room, he froze for a moment, then walked over with a smile. “Didn’t I tell you to go to bed early? Why are you still waiting for me?”

He placed the cake box on the coffee table and opened it. It was a strawberry cake from my favorite shop. “Passed by and saw their new seasonal limited edition. Thought you’d definitely like it, so I bought it. Consider it a belated birthday treat. I’ve been so busy lately. Thank you, my wife, for being so understanding and generous, for understanding that your husband’s work is tough and he can’t always be with you.”

He spoke, reaching out to touch my head. His tone was natural, his movements fluid. No different from any ordinary night over the past five years. I looked at him. That familiar face, those gentle eyes, that hand rubbing my head. He didn’t look like a cheating man at all. But that hand, an hour ago, hadn’t it touched another girl? Touched every inch of her skin? I closed my eyes in disgust, pulling away from his touch. Harrison’s hand froze in mid-air.

“What’s wrong, wife?”

“You don’t look so good. Did you encounter a difficult client again?”

I calmly explained, “No, just a little tired.”

“Then I’ll cut you some cake. Eat a bite and then go to bed, okay?”

I watched him lower his head. The contents of that forum post flashed repeatedly in my mind. “Sent birthday wishes while ‘exercising’ in my bed,” “his fiancée is old and withered,” “the unloved one is the side chick.” The unloved one is the side chick. Perhaps in some people’s eyes, love is a competition where first come, first served doesn’t matter. As long as the first one isn’t firmly chosen, they can be righteously replaced by the next.

“Harrison.”

He looked up, still holding the cake knife. “Hm?”

I looked into his eyes, enunciating each word: “Do you have anything else you want to tell me?”