The Substitute

Have you ever read those romantic fantasy novels about a CEO’s substitute wife? Well, that’s me. Actually, I can’t really call myself a wife. We weren’t married yet, so let’s just say I was the substitute girlfriend. Before I discovered this, I was the envy of everyone around me. I graduated from a prestigious university, landed a job at a well-known company, and of course, the main reason for everyone’s envy was my handsome and wealthy CEO boyfriend. Just like in those romantic fantasy novels, the CEO fell in love with me at first sight. He showed no hesitation in pursuing me, showering me with roses, expensive gifts, and heartfelt confessions. I fell for him quickly. After all, who wouldn’t like a handsome, rich boyfriend who was completely devoted to you? I certainly did. Many people warned me that he might just be playing around or had some ulterior motive. Some were jealous, while others genuinely cared about me. But he proved them all wrong with his actions. For three years, he showered me with care and affection, remembered every anniversary, always spoke to me kindly no matter what, and never neglected me because of work. Even our first time together only happened after he had asked for my consent. Everything seemed perfect and harmonious. Until I had the sudden urge to check his phone. I’ve always been a trusting girlfriend. Even though many people told me to keep an eye on my boyfriend, warning me that he was too good-looking and wealthy not to attract other women, I never took their words to heart. Because he really didn’t seem like the type to flirt around. He wouldn’t get close to any woman except me. Even his friends asked me what magic I had used to make him so devoted to me. I said, maybe it’s because he loves me enough. So when he told me he was going to attend a college reunion and might come home late, I didn’t think much of it. I even told him to have fun. Of course, I didn’t stop to wonder why someone who hated social gatherings and barely kept in touch with his college classmates would suddenly want to attend a meaningless reunion. That night, we broke many firsts. It was the first time he came home after midnight, the first time he got drunk, the first time I checked his phone, and the first time I couldn’t sleep. He had always been a good boyfriend. Even when he went out, he would never come home after midnight or get drunk. At most, he would be slightly tipsy. I used to suspect that maybe his alcohol tolerance was too high, so he never got drunk. Now I realize I was overthinking. No one can’t get drunk; it’s just that they haven’t drunk enough, or rather, there wasn’t anything that could make them drink that much. In the past, every time he came back from a social gathering, slightly tipsy, he liked to bury his face in my arms, reeking of alcohol, and whisper sweet nothings to me. I quite enjoyed it, and even wondered what he would be like if he really got drunk. Now I’ve seen it. He’s still charming, still good at sweet talk, but the name he’s calling isn’t mine. In our three years together, I had never heard this name, neither from his mouth nor from anyone else’s. He had protected this name so well that if it weren’t for his drunken state, he probably would never have let it slip. Sophia. It’s a beautiful name. That night, as I helped him, drunk and stumbling, into bed, I heard him say, “I love you.” I couldn’t help but smile. Even after three years, he was still so cheesy. Just as I was about to respond, he uttered that name. “Sophia.” “I love you, Sophia.” I’m certain it wasn’t just drunken mumbling because that night he called this name countless times. “Sophia, I miss you so much.” “Sophia, I really love you.” “Sophia… Sophia… Sophia…” Even if I were a fool, I could figure out what was going on. The reunion, the drinking, it was all for one person. And that person wasn’t me. As if possessed, I picked up his phone. You could say he was a good boyfriend in this aspect too. His phone never had a password, allowing me to check it anytime. Of course, I was also a good girlfriend. This was the first time in three years that I had opened his phone. That night, I read through thousands of chat messages. Of course, they were all one-sided. They were thousands of messages he had sent to Sophia, with no replies from the other side. Starting from five years ago. Every day, he would send Sophia a few messages, telling her about his day, about the weather, about how much he missed her. Never stopping. “Sophia, I met a girl today. She looks a lot like you.” The day I started my job. “Sophia, I’m going to pursue her.” The day he started chasing me. “Sophia, are you jealous?” The day we got together. “Sophia, I moved to a new place. It has a spacious, bright balcony, a huge smart TV, and a waterbed. All the things you like.” The day we moved in together. “Sophia, she looks so much like you in a red dress.” Six months into our relationship, he bought me a closet full of red dresses. “Sophia, we had a fight today. She looks just like you when she’s angry. You both like to say you don’t love me anymore.” Our first fight. We were both angry and ignoring each other until I said, “You don’t love me anymore.” Only then did he come to comfort me. “Sophia…” “Sophia…” “Sophia…” Just a light press on the letter ‘S’, and the keyboard would automatically suggest ‘Sophia’. Who knows how many times he had typed it? Only he knew. No wonder he always liked to back up his chat history over and over again. I thought it was because he had important documents he was afraid of losing. No wonder he liked me in red dresses, no wonder he always wanted me to wear makeup that didn’t suit me, no wonder he always wanted me to let my hair down, no wonder his eyes were always full of stars when he looked at me. All of these were Sophia’s. I was just a cuckoo in the nest. I didn’t cry. Not a single tear fell. I just threw away all the red dresses, cut my hair short, and removed everything that resembled Sophia from my surroundings. Except for my face. I found a photo of Sophia and him, carefully hidden at the bottom of his photo album. In the photo, Sophia was wearing a vibrant red dress, with cute makeup, her hair down, happily making a peace sign at the camera. And him, by her side, turning his head to look at her with eyes full of tenderness. That look I knew all too well. I have to say, he was really lucky. The Sophia in the photo really did look a lot like me. If I didn’t know for sure that my mom only had one daughter, I might have wondered if she was my twin sister. The next morning, I made hangover soup and waited for him to wake up. Everything seemed the same as before, yet everything felt different. I didn’t ask him why he got drunk last night, nor did I question him about who Sophia was. But he questioned me, asking why I had cut my hair. I touched my unevenly cut hair and said I wanted to try short hair. It was ugly, I knew. Because I had cut it myself in the bathroom last night with rusty scissors. My hair that I had been growing for seven years. He didn’t say anything more, but I could see he was angry. Angry as he was, he didn’t argue with me. He just silently suppressed that anger. But he couldn’t suppress it for long. Because he discovered that all the red dresses in the closet had disappeared. Just like in the morning, he asked me where the dresses went. “Thrown away.” He smashed many things in the house, even raised his hand, but the moment he saw my face, he put it down again. This face really was useful. Then he calmed himself down again, gently coaxing me, saying it didn’t matter if the dresses were gone, he could buy me more. It didn’t matter if my hair was cut, he could take me to get extensions, or I could grow it out again. I refused. I clearly told him that I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t grow my hair long again, nor would I wear red dresses again. He angrily shouted out the sentence he had been wanting to say. “Do you know! You look like this! You don’t look like…” He caught himself and didn’t continue, but even if he didn’t say it, I knew what the second half of the sentence was. I didn’t look like Sophia anymore. Later, he slammed the door and left, not returning home for a week. I went to work as usual, came home as usual, cooked as usual, slept as usual. It seemed that apart from having one less person by my side, there wasn’t much difference. A week later, he came back, apologized to me, not very sincerely. I could even see the suppressed anger in his eyes. I knew he would come back, because I had this face. I didn’t say anything, we continued to interact like before. Only now, I started to avoid everything that resembled Sophia. Sophia liked red dresses, so I insisted on wearing pants. Sophia had long hair, so I insisted on short hair. Sophia liked cute makeup, so I insisted on dramatic Western-style makeup. I didn’t confront him, not because I was weak, but because I wanted to give both of us a chance. If he could accept me like this, rather than as a copy of Sophia like before, I would pretend nothing had happened and continue to be with him. At first, he was indeed very angry and somewhat resistant to me. But as time went on, he seemed to slowly accept it. He started taking me to pants stores, accompanying me to regular haircuts, and the way he looked at me was no longer as deeply affectionate as before. But I was happy, because he finally wasn’t looking through me at someone else. Those deeply affectionate looks from before were never meant for me anyway. And most importantly. The frequency of his messages to Sophia started to decrease. I would still occasionally check his phone, still without a password. His messages to Sophia went from several times a day, to once a day, to once a week, to once a month, and now, he hadn’t sent a message to Sophia for three months. When I scrolled through the records, I had to scroll for a long time before I found that familiar chat box. Everything was slowly getting better. Sophia no longer appeared, and we were gradually falling in love. In the fifth year of our relationship, he proposed to me. Just like the day he confessed, the ground was covered with flowers, but instead of Sophia’s favorite roses, it was my favorite baby’s breath. Him on one knee, a dove egg-sized diamond ring, and the blessings of friends. I accepted. The diamond ring was beautiful, and I heard that men could only buy one ring from this brand in their lifetime. That night, I stared at that diamond ring and smiled foolishly for a long time. For me, this wasn’t just a diamond ring, it was my reassurance. I could almost be certain that I was no longer Sophia’s substitute. My boyfriend, no, now my fiancé, was with me because he liked me, and proposed to me because he liked me. There were ten days until the engagement party. He was tense every day, afraid of doing something wrong, pulling me to practice every procedure over and over again. I was both annoyed and amused. All my rest time was taken up by his rehearsals, but this also showed how much he valued our engagement party, so I was still happy. If it weren’t for that text message. That night, he was holding me as usual, letting me rest my head on his arm, playing with my hair. His phone rang with a message notification at an inopportune moment. He casually picked it up to look. Just for a second, just one second, I felt his body stiffen, somewhat unnaturally. I asked him curiously what was wrong. He vaguely said he wanted to go to the bathroom, slowly withdrew his arm, and took his phone to the bathroom. He wasn’t gone for long, just the normal time for a man to use the bathroom, but I didn’t hear the sound of flushing. When he came out of the bathroom, he was the same as usual, showing no change at all. Unfortunately, a woman’s sixth sense is terrifyingly accurate. That night, I struggled for a while before I managed to take his phone out from under his pillow. He had never put his phone under his pillow before. I opened his chat with Sophia, there were no new messages. As if possessed, I clicked on his text messages. At the top was a text from a girl saved as “Sophia”. Before this, I had never seen this phone number, nor had I seen this contact name. I guess they must have gotten back in touch. “Henry, I’m coming back to the country the day after tomorrow. Are you free? I’d like to talk to you.” “Is it you, Sophia?” “Yes.” “What time is your flight the day after tomorrow? I’ll come pick you up.” “No need to trouble yourself. I’ll send you the meeting address when I arrive. I’m a bit busy now, talk to you later.” He sent Sophia a few more texts, but there was no reply from the other side. I guess she must have gone to take care of something. Before this, I had always thought Sophia was someone who would never appear, either dead or unable to meet him for some special reason. That’s why I chose to stay, vainly attempting to pull him back to my side with my sincerity. After reading the texts, I closed the phone, stared at my soundly sleeping fiancé for a long time, before putting the phone back under his pillow and hugging him to continue sleeping. The night before Sophia was to return to the country, I got my period. I’ve always been physically weak, and every time it’s excruciatingly painful. I used to think that the monthly period was a torture for me, but this time was different. I dragged my pain-wracked body to take a cold shower. I decided to gamble with my own body. Sure enough, the next day I had a high fever. I wanted to see who he would choose between a fiancée with her period and a high fever, and a long-lost love about to get off a plane. In the end, he chose his long-lost love. I could endure the bone-chilling pain and the uncomfortable high fever, but his long-lost love couldn’t come out of the airport without someone to help her with her luggage. My five years of sincere love, at this moment, lost completely. Before he left, all he cared about was whether his hairstyle was messy, whether his clothes fit well, and whether his cologne smelled good. I had never seen him like this before. Cautious, yet extremely happy. So happy that he forgot there was a fiancée curled up in pain at home. I cancelled the engagement party, packed all my things with a high fever, and moved out of the house we had lived in for four years. I cleaned out everything about me in the house, as if I had never been there. What I couldn’t take with me, I threw away. I only left him a note and that ring. The ring he could only buy once in his lifetime wasn’t meant for me. Later, I went away for a month to clear my mind. After adjusting my emotions, I joined a new company. Actually, I should thank him. Being with a CEO did have its benefits. He taught me many things that ordinary employees couldn’t learn. With my qualifications and the experience he taught me, I advanced quickly. In fact, many companies had offered me positions years ago, with better treatment and salary than my original company, but I had refused them all. Because I wanted to be with him. But that doesn’t matter now. I’ve started a new life, and actually, long before I discovered Sophia’s existence, I had taken out a loan to buy a house for myself. So even after breaking up, I still had a house, savings, and a job. I was still the same enviable person I was before. “What happened next? Did he try to find you?” “He did, but how could I let him find me? Once I decided to leave, I left completely.” “What if he wanted to meet Sophia to clear things up and never contact her again? Isn’t that how it usually goes in novels?” “Novels are just novels, fairy tales are just fairy tales. From the moment he could leave me with a high fever and pain to find his long-lost love, we were destined never to meet again in this life.” “Ah~” The person in front of me sighed and pouted, “Aren’t you sad? After all, you were together for five years.” I touched my neat short hair and smiled, “I cut off seven years of long hair, what’s a five-year relationship compared to that?” The little girl in front of me still seemed unsatisfied. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something more, but I interrupted her, “Alright, stop being nosy. Have you finished today’s work? If you don’t finish, you can’t join us for dinner tonight.” “No, no, no, I’ll go do it right away. I promise to complete the task before clocking out!” Watching Emily leave, I let out a long sigh, finally relieved. Emily is a new intern. The company assigned her to me for mentoring. This little girl has just graduated, lively and cheerful, with an endearing naivety, very much like how I used to be. Maybe because of this reason, we quickly became close. During our free time, we like to gather and chat about gossip, and eventually, we started talking about ourselves. Although she’s a bit nosy, she wouldn’t spread other people’s private matters around. Unable to resist her constant questioning, I told her my story. Looking at her retreating figure, I felt a strange sense of comfort in my heart. It’s been over half a year since Henry and I broke up. At first, I really did go through a period of feeling depressed all day, occasionally drowning my sorrows in alcohol. But after so much time has passed, now when I think of him, I feel no ripples in my heart at all. Time really is the best medicine. In the evening, during the company’s monthly dinner, everyone was drinking happily when suddenly the restaurant lost power, plunging everything into darkness. I was about to call a waiter to ask what was going on when a beam of light slowly lit up in the center of the restaurant, shining on one person. I followed the light and saw it was Andrew. Seeing it was him, I frowned instinctively. Andrew is my senior from university and also my current boss. Half a year ago when I broke up with Henry, I went traveling abroad to adjust my mood. He somehow found out about it, flew abroad personally to find me, and invited me to help out at his company. Actually, I didn’t want to come at first. Firstly, because I didn’t want to work under someone I knew, and secondly, because he had pursued me before. When I was in school, Andrew’s name was well-known. Almost everyone in the school knew about him. Not because he was exceptionally outstanding, but because he was too much of a playboy. The speed at which he changed girlfriends truly lived up to the saying, “Women are like clothes.” For ordinary people, they would wear a piece of clothing for at least a year, or at least a few months even if they didn’t like it much. But Andrew was different. He was a genuine rich second generation. He would discard clothes after wearing them once, not even bothering to wash them. It was the same with girlfriends. But even so, countless girls still wanted to be his girlfriend. The reasons were simple: Andrew was smooth-talking, good-looking, and rich. In just a short year, Andrew had gone through most of the girls in his major. Although not many girls spoke ill of Andrew after breaking up with him, the speed at which he changed girlfriends still made everyone label him as a playboy. Later, Andrew met me. To be honest, even now I don’t know what Andrew liked about me. We had only met once at the freshman welcome party, and Andrew started his crazy pursuit. I had heard of his reputation as soon as I entered school, so of course I wouldn’t accept his pursuit. I thought that such a playboy would give up after being rejected a few times, but I didn’t expect him to become more persistent with each setback. He didn’t give up for three years in college, constantly pursuing me, and even declared in school that if anyone dared to pursue me besides him, he would make their life miserable. There were indeed a few who didn’t believe him and tried to pursue me, but they all gave up soon. Later, he graduated, and I thought I could finally get rid of him, but I didn’t expect him to still wait for me at my dormitory door every day, sending me flowers and saying some cheesy love words. “What you can’t have is always alluring.” I felt that Andrew’s pursuit only proved this saying. He had never failed in pursuing girls before, and I was the first one to give him a hard time. So I don’t believe he had much true feelings. This situation only improved when I got together with Henry. After I graduated, his waiting place moved from my dormitory door to my company door. That day, he was still waiting for me at the company door as usual, but I walked out holding Henry’s hand. He stared at us blankly for a while, but still handed me the flowers in his hand. I didn’t take them. I raised my hand that was holding Henry’s and told him, “I already have a boyfriend.” At that time, we had known each other for nearly five years, but it was the first time I saw such a hurt look in his eyes. In my impression, he was always a smiling playboy. I had rejected his pursuit countless times, thrown the flowers he sent into the trash countless times, but he had never shown me such a look. He was always smiling, if rejected he would try again, if the flowers were thrown away he would buy more. In those five years, I had said harsh words to him countless times, but none of them seemed to hurt him as much as “I already have a boyfriend.” His smile froze on his face, his eyes flickered, he didn’t say anything more, took back the flowers, and left. After that, I never saw him again, until I broke up with Henry. He traveled abroad alone to find me, asking me to come to his company. Thinking of this, when I looked up at Andrew again, he was already walking towards me with a bouquet of baby’s breath. I knew what he was going to do, and my frown deepened. I said in a voice only the two of us could hear, “You said we would only talk about work.” Andrew had indeed said this, he promised me this half a year ago abroad. At that time, when he invited me to his company, I flatly refused. But he seemed to know what I was worried about and said he was only inviting me to the company because he admired my abilities. We would only talk about work, and he would treat me the same as any other employee. If I didn’t believe him, I could try working for a while first. I couldn’t resist his persistence and sincerity, and after investigating, I found that his company indeed had great potential and room for growth, so I joined his company. After staying for a while, it was indeed as he said. He never gave me any special treatment, and I would be scolded and have my salary deducted if I made mistakes. So I became more at ease and stayed. But I didn’t expect that just a week after I signed a five-year labor contract, he would fall back into his old habits. This was all his calculation. He smiled and answered me, “As compensation for not keeping my word, I’ll give myself to you.” I couldn’t help but laugh, “Brother, is this compensation?” He flipped his hair, “Isn’t it? Where else can you find such a handsome boyfriend?” We whispered for a while longer, and finally, amidst the cheering of the company crowd, I smiled and accepted the flowers from Andrew’s hand. However, at the moment I took the flowers, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure flashing by outside the restaurant. When I turned to look, the person was gone. I didn’t think much of it and sat back down, holding Andrew’s hand. Not long after the dinner party, I felt that the atmosphere in the company seemed a bit strange. The colleagues around me weren’t as enthusiastic in greeting me as before, and the way they looked at me had an indescribable feeling. Some seemed to want to say something to me but then held back. After a few days of this awkwardness, Emily suddenly burst into my office, “Sis! Someone is slandering you online!” I was organizing files and felt a bit confused, “Huh?” Emily seemed to have run in a hurry, panting heavily as she spoke, “It’s… it’s your ex-boyfriend… he… he posted something online… saying you… saying you…” “Saying what about me? Don’t rush, take your time.” I patted Emily’s back, letting her sit down. “He said you’re fickle! That you abandoned him for your career and money, and that you seduced our boss!” Emily finally finished her sentence, followed by another bout of heavy breathing. I couldn’t help but frown, feeling a bit upset. We’ve been broken up for half a year, why isn’t he living well with his Sophia? Why jump out now to slander me? Emily found the original post and sent it to me. I looked at the time, it was already a week old. When it was first posted, it caused a small stir, but it didn’t become widely known. But for some reason, the views and shares of the post suddenly increased these past few days, as if someone had given it a push behind the scenes. I only read a few lines before I knew this post must have been written by someone Henry paid a high price to write. It was full of distortions and lies, and although the post seemed to be Henry’s diary, it was constantly vilifying me, both explicitly and implicitly. The post detailed our meeting, getting to know each other, falling in love, and even some private matters after we started dating. Even the gifts and red envelopes he sent me on holidays were written about in thousands of words. In short, after reading the entire post, the public would only get two pieces of information: One, Henry loved me very much. Two, I, a fresh graduate who knew nothing, used Henry to climb the social ladder and then abandoned him, seducing another man. In other words, he loved me, loved me very much, loved me so much that he would have cut out his heart for me. And we were about to get engaged, but I abandoned him because I found someone better than him, even canceling our planned engagement party. In short, I was a bad woman who loved money and fame, while Henry was a poor, devoted good man. The post also included some of our chat records and intimate photos. Some resourceful netizens used these photos to find me, Henry, and Andrew. Of course, they mainly found me, because in their eyes, I was now the bad woman, while Henry and Andrew were just victims I had deceived. After finding out my identity, the netizens became even more excited, holding up the banner of justice to condemn me. I glanced at it for a while and found that Andrew’s company’s stock was also plummeting. As I was getting annoyed reading this, my phone suddenly rang. I answered it without thinking, but as soon as I picked up, a stream of abuse came from the other end, using all kinds of nasty and vicious words. I got annoyed and hung up. But I didn’t expect this was just the beginning. After the first call, countless calls came in one after another, all abusing me when I picked up. It seems my personal information had been dug up by those people online. Or maybe, Henry had deliberately released it. Anyway, no matter what, my phone didn’t stop all morning. Calls, texts, WhatsApp messages, all non-stop. I didn’t dare to turn off my phone, afraid of missing important client calls. By the end of the day, I was exhausted both physically and mentally. I finally made it to the end of the workday, thinking I could finally go home and rest well, but I didn’t expect a large crowd to be waiting to ambush me at the company entrance. I didn’t notice at first, until I walked out the door and heard someone shout, “That bitch is out!” Only then did I realize a large group of people had gathered at the door, each holding a phone, frantically taking photos as soon as they saw me. I couldn’t help but think of those scenes in TV dramas where prisoners are paraded through the streets, with a crowd of people throwing rotten vegetables and rotten eggs at them. In the past, the public used violence to condemn those they thought were wrong. Now, the public uses words to condemn those they think are wrong. Thinking about it, I couldn’t figure out which was more hurtful. But no matter what, this was a form of harm. The company’s security guards hadn’t expected this situation and couldn’t hold back so many people. Some people had almost pushed their phones into my face. I couldn’t dodge in time, and I don’t know who pushed me, but I fell backwards. I instinctively closed my eyes, estimating that this fall would be quite bad. The expected pain didn’t come. I fell into a reassuring embrace. I opened my eyes to look at the person in front of me. It was Andrew. Before I could say anything, he helped me up, “I’m sorry, I’m late.” After saying this, he held my hand. I followed him all the way to the underground parking lot, shaking off those persistent people. Looking at his panting appearance, I thought of the company’s stock and the crowd at the door, and couldn’t help but sigh, “I’m sorry.” He caught his breath and asked me, “Why are you apologizing?” I blinked, “It’s all because of me that the company has so much trouble…” He smiled and came closer, ruffling my hair, “It’s not your fault.” I dodged his hand, “If it weren’t for me, the company’s stock wouldn’t…” “It has nothing to do with you.” He interrupted me before I could finish my sentence. He put his hands on my shoulders, “None of this has anything to do with you. It’s all him slandering you. I know that.” I looked up, meeting his eyes, “You believe me?” He nodded, “I do.” At that moment, I suddenly felt a warmth in my heart, an indescribable feeling. “Besides,” he muttered softly, but I heard it clearly, “you haven’t agreed to be my girlfriend yet, so what’s written up there isn’t true at all.” “From what you’re saying, you believe me just because this part he wrote isn’t true?” I raised an eyebrow. “No, no, no!” He hurriedly waved his hands, “I mean I know everything he wrote is false, it’s just… it’s just that I wish the part about you being with me was true…” I couldn’t help but laugh. That day I did accept Andrew’s flowers, but I didn’t agree to be with him. I took the flowers from his hand just because I didn’t want him to be embarrassed in front of so many people. Later when he sent me home, I told him very clearly. I said I had just ended a failed relationship not even half a year ago, and I wasn’t ready to enter a new relationship. He smiled and didn’t say anything, just sent me a WhatsApp message after sending me home. — It’s okay, we have a long time ahead of us. “What are you thinking about?” Andrew snapped his fingers in front of me, pulling me back from my memories. I smiled, “Nothing.” “Then get in the car.” Andrew opened the passenger door. “Where are we going?” I sat in the car. “My place.” Hearing Andrew say this, my hand that was about to fasten the seatbelt paused, “Your place?” “Don’t overthink it,” Andrew slid into the driver’s seat, “I’m worried that your home address might have been leaked too, it could be dangerous, so I’m taking you to my place to stay for a while.”

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