My fiancée’s male assistant, Trevor, threw a half-eaten eggplant into her bowl right in front of everyone at the company dinner. Chloe didn’t even hesitate. She just picked it up and ate it. That same day, as soon as we got home, I told her I wanted to call off our arranged marriage. She bristled, “Just because I ate the eggplant he gave me?” “He ate a bite, didn’t like it, and then gave it to you,” I corrected her. “Honestly, saying you’re jealous is an understatement. You always blow things out of proportion.” “Fine,” I shot back, “You want to break up? No problem. Just don’t come crawling back, begging me to get back together.” She was so sure I loved her too much to ever leave. But what she didn’t know was that even the deepest love can erode, chip away, until nothing’s left but dust, especially with constant hurt. This time, I was truly done. That same day, I told my parents I wanted a different fiancée for the arranged marriage. They were a bit surprised, but they respected my decision. After that, Chloe went into her usual cold war mode. My phone number, all my social media, even our shared game accounts – deleted, blocked, the whole package. That was her routine whenever we argued. She was confident I couldn’t bear to lose her, certain I’d swallow my pride and win her back. But this time, I stared at the red “friend request” button and, for once, didn’t press it. A week later, a notification popped up in the company’s SnapChat group: “It’s Chloe’s birthday today! Chloe’s treating everyone, mandatory attendance, no excuses!” I didn’t want to make things awkward for everyone else, so I went. As I stepped into the private dining room, I saw Chloe at the head of the table, and Trevor sitting so close to her, practically glued to her side. Trevor’s lips were pressed against Chloe’s ear, as if sharing some secret. They seemed to exist within their own bubble, impenetrable to outsiders. A moment later, they both burst out laughing, their faces so close they were almost kissing. I couldn’t stand to watch anymore. I found a corner and sat down. Everyone started giving Chloe gifts, but I ignored it all. I poured myself a drink, sipping it slowly, when suddenly, a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see Chloe’s perfectly sculpted face, her expression still etched with that familiar impatience. “Liam, why didn’t you get me a gift?” Normally, on an important day like Chloe’s birthday, I’d have started planning months in advance. One year, I even spent over six months hand-making a life-size replica of the flying house from her favorite movie, Up. When the balloons lifted off, she told me we’d grow old together, just like the characters in the film. I believed her then, never imagining her promise wouldn’t even last three years. Faced with her persistent questioning, I simply replied, “I forgot.” My attitude clearly infuriated Chloe. She completely lost her patience. “Liam, are you done being dramatic? Is such a trivial thing worth an entire week of this nonsense?” I looked at the faint trace of Trevor’s lip balm on her lips, a sickening feeling churning in my stomach. “I’m not being dramatic. And I’m serious about calling off the engagement.” Chloe’s expression froze for a second, but then Trevor squeezed her hand, and she regained her composure. “Liam, please don’t misunderstand,” Trevor said, his voice deliberately soft. “I only gave Chloe my food because I didn’t want to waste it. If you dislike me so much, then next time we have a company dinner, I’ll just skip the table. I’ll wait to eat everyone’s leftovers.” Trevor’s words immediately melted Chloe’s heart. “Trevor, don’t say that! You deserve the best things in the world. Liam’s the one who shouldn’t be here. Who does he think he is? Does everyone have to cater to his whims?” “Chloe, don’t say that about Liam. He might be a little sensitive, but he’s still your fiancé. You should still try to smooth things over. I really don’t want you two fighting because of me.” “Smooth things over with him? Who does he think he is? If my parents hadn’t begged me to go through with this arranged marriage, I wouldn’t be with him. He gets mad over every little thing; it’s so annoying.” Trevor walked over to me, patting my back. His voice was laced with a patronizing tone. “Liam, honestly, from one guy to another, you really are being a bit much this time. Chloe hasn’t been able to sleep for days because of you. Even though I think you two aren’t a good match, you’re still engaged. You should both try to compromise.” I slapped his hand away, a cold laugh escaping me. “Trevor, you know what I admire most about you? It’s how you pretend to be noble while doing the fakest things—and how you can steal someone’s girlfriend with your sugary words, yet still look completely innocent.” Trevor’s smug expression instantly vanished. Chloe exploded. “Liam, who gave you permission to slander Trevor like that?” “Slander? Then tell me, why does he have one of everything you buy me, and then flaunts it in front of me at the office? Why does he always twist our arguments and spread them around the breakroom? And why does he know your—” “Enough!” SMACK! Chloe slapped me across the face in front of everyone. The world around me instantly blurred and became muffled, but my eyes clearly saw the pity, scorn, or disgust on the faces of everyone in the room.
When my hearing finally cleared, I heard Chloe’s loud declaration: “From today on, everyone’s welcome to like my photos with Trevor! If we hit a thousand likes, I’ll drop Liam and go register our marriage with Trevor!” With that, she grabbed Trevor’s hand and walked out without a backward glance. Before leaving the private room, Trevor shot me a triumphant, taunting look. After they left, people in the room started filing out. Some gloated, “Doesn’t even know his place and starts acting up. Now he’s gone too far, bet he regrets it.” Others offered well-meaning advice, “Pride is temporary. Just swallow it, apologize quickly, or Chloe really will go marry Trevor.” I knew perfectly well this was Chloe’s way of forcing me to beg her. But this time, I refused to bend. Not even if it killed me. The once lively room quickly emptied, leaving just me. I grabbed the remaining strong liquor and chugged it. The burning alcohol scorched my throat, then my stomach, bringing tears to my eyes. Decades of a relationship, just over. And yet, it felt almost… anticlimactic. Maybe if I went to an arranged marriage thousands of miles away, to a city down South, she wouldn’t bother me anymore. But for some reason, my face was wet with tears again. I went home and immediately started packing, preparing to leave. Chloe and I had grown up together. More than half of our short lives had been spent side-by-side. The depth of our bond meant I had so much to sort through. This little gold star sticker was the first award Chloe ever received in kindergarten. She’d toddled over to me on her tiny legs and given it to me. I vaguely remembered her saying, “I’m going to give Liam all the best things.” This photo was one she secretly took of me grimacing in pain after I severely sprained my ankle during my first basketball game. Back then, I thought I’d be paralyzed and sadly told her we might not be able to play together anymore. She didn’t say a word, just helped me up and walked me straight to the infirmary. Later, we became a couple. But different colleges forced us into a long-distance relationship. Our memories became a stack of train tickets. For four entire years, 193,700 kilometers was the distance we traveled to be with each other. Back then, she only had eyes for me, and she never once complained about being tired, no matter how long the journey. My fingers brushed against a small, hard box containing the matching rings we had made together. For her, I moved back to this city up North right after college graduation. The day I returned, she dragged me to get these rings made. I still remember her slipping the ring onto my finger and saying, “Liam, with this ring, you’re stuck with me for life. You’ll never get to leave me.” Neither of us knew then that in the end, it wouldn’t be me who let go, but her.
The day Trevor interviewed at the company, he performed terribly. Chloe openly disliked him. I also didn’t give a second thought to an applicant with such poor qualifications and ability. But for some reason, he was eventually hired against all odds, and slowly, from being a barely noticed background character, he became Chloe’s executive assistant. I truly started to notice something was off when I saw our matching ring—the one meant only for Chloe and me—on Trevor’s hand. At first, when I questioned her, Chloe would patiently explain things and try to smooth things over. But gradually, her patience wore thin, replaced only by impatience. My repeated reluctance to let go, my tolerance, my attempts to please her, only made her favoritism for Trevor more blatant. Company dinners would only feature dishes Trevor liked. Trevor worked only half-days a week; the rest of the time, he spent with Chloe, going out, eating, and having fun, while Chloe pushed all his assistant duties onto me. Chloe’s mentions of him became more frequent in front of me. At first, it was unconscious praise and admiration, but later, she started comparing me to him, complaining that I wasn’t as thoughtful or considerate as he was. Until one afternoon during a company tea break, Chloe said the coffee she ordered was delicious, and Trevor said he wanted to try it. Without a word, Chloe handed her coffee to him. He didn’t even bother to change the straw, just took a big sip from the one Chloe had used. Chloe even took the coffee back and continued drinking from the same spot Trevor’s lips had touched. In that moment, my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, a mixture of bitterness and searing pain. From then on, Trevor, her “good buddy,” crossed more and more lines. Fearing Chloe would get a sunburn, he directly applied sunscreen all over her body. I, her fiancé, made her lunch, but he made her lunch too. He’d always eat the lunch I made for Chloe, claiming my cooking was “too good to waste,” then make her eat his own instead. Chloe even canceled my birthday celebration because Trevor had a cold. But every time I expressed my unhappiness about these things, Chloe would impatiently snap, “Liam, you really have a twisted mind. You see dirt everywhere. Trevor and I have the purest friendship. Don’t project your filthy thoughts onto him.” Yet, the more she said it, the less conviction she had in her voice. The most infuriating thing was a major industry event organized by our professional association. The organizers required attendees to bring their partners, but Chloe never told me. She just took Trevor. I only found out later when people kept asking me if Chloe and I had broken up. When I confronted her, Chloe got even angrier than I was. “I only took Trevor to network and cultivate talent for the company. Why are you so petty?” That time, we gave each other the cold shoulder for a long time, so long that I actually thought we’d finally split up. Until she sent me a message late one night: “Hubby, my stomach hurts so bad.” All my feigned indifference crumbled in an instant. And so, the terrible cycle of me questioning, her getting angry, me trying to smooth things over, and her forgiving me, began all over again. I closed the ring box and tossed it into the trash can. Deep in the drawer, I found a note Chloe wrote when she was 18, an apology for accidentally missing one of my messages. She really cared about me back then. But now, she only cared about Trevor. I took out the apology letter, tore it into pieces, and threw it in the trash. After thoroughly clearing out decades of emotional baggage, the house felt much emptier. My heart, it seemed, had been emptied along with it. The company’s SnapChat group was still flooded with photos of Trevor celebrating Chloe’s birthday and making her laugh. Knowing Chloe’s favoritism toward Trevor, colleagues eagerly provided them with emotional support. “OMG, Chloe and Trevor are such a perfect match!” “You should definitely find a boyfriend like Trevor, not some petty, sulking guy like Liam.” “Liam only got where he is because of his family. Trevor, on the other hand, made it all on his own. There’s no comparison between them.” I couldn’t stand to look anymore. I called my lawyer directly and instructed him to withdraw all my investments from Smith Corp.
The next day, I went to the company to pack my things, only to find Trevor in my private office lounge, wearing a tank top and with his feet propped up on my desk. His belongings were scattered everywhere, and all of mine had been unceremoniously dumped outside the door. This was my private office lounge, a space Chloe had specifically designed for me. Everyone in the company knew it, and no one dared to enter. Trevor’s actions were a blatant display of disrespect, practically spitting in my face. I couldn’t be bothered to argue with him. I just called the police. In the mediation room, Trevor panicked. “I was just helping Chloe get some documents. Did you really have to call the police?” “That’s my private space. Did I give you permission to just walk in?” I said coldly. “Taking something without asking? That’s stealing, plain and simple.” Trevor didn’t retort, but his expression suddenly shifted to one of profound victimhood. I immediately sensed something was off. And sure enough, when I turned around, who else would be standing there with a stormy face but Chloe? “Chloe!” The moment he saw her, Trevor immediately embraced her, his voice full of feigned injury. “I really just wanted to help you get those documents, but Liam seems to dislike me so much. He keeps insisting I stole something. You’ve given me so many things, my sixty-square-meter villa can’t even fit them all. Why would I need his pathetic belongings?” This small room was a gift from Chloe to me, a return gift for the little wooden cabin I built for her. We shared so many sweet memories in this room. I always thought at least this sanctuary would remain untainted, like the last vestige of dignity in our love. But Chloe, it seemed, still wanted to personally shred my last shred of hope. Chloe consoled Trevor while explaining to the officers, “It’s all a misunderstanding. We all know each other. Sorry to bother you.” Then she turned to me, her voice filled with disgust. “Liam, what has gotten into you? Why are you so jealous all the time? Does it give you great satisfaction to use your power to hurt innocent subordinates like Trevor? You really disappoint me.” Her reproaches rained down on me, and before I could even object, Trevor started his drama again. “Chloe, don’t blame Liam. It’s my fault for being careless. At most, I’ll spend a few days in jail, and people can laugh at me. It’s fine. Just don’t let this cause trouble between you and Liam.” Chloe grabbed Trevor’s hand, her face full of concern. “Trevor, you’re just too soft, that’s why people always pick on you.” Then she turned to me, her tone firm. “Liam, let me tell you, this isn’t just going to blow over. You need to apologize to Trevor immediately.” “Chloe, he entered my private space without my permission. And you want me to apologize to him? You still think he’s the victim?” The moment I spoke, Trevor started looking tearful again. Chloe scoffed. “Your private space? That lounge belongs to Smith Corp, don’t forget. The entire Smith Corp is under my name; you only have temporary usage rights. If you keep this attitude, I won’t hesitate to have you charged with false accusation.” With that, she dragged Trevor away to settle things. Her words were like a sharp spike, piercing deeply into my heart. My heart, which I thought had long gone numb, began to ache all over again. For so many years, I had poured my heart and soul into supporting Smith Corp, believing I was fighting for our shared future. Only to be told, in the end, “you only have temporary usage rights.” Before Chloe and Trevor left the mediation room, she gave me a warning. “Just a friendly heads-up: the likes have already reached 990. If you keep this attitude, I’m really going to go register my marriage with Trevor.” I looked at Trevor’s sneering eyes behind her and suddenly realized my own pathetic situation. Trevor’s tactics had always been clumsy; the intelligent Chloe couldn’t possibly have been blind to them. She simply chose to ignore them. The scales of love in her heart had long since tipped. All of this was just her way of getting rid of me, her stage-five clinger. And I, like an idiot, kept trying to make peace again and again. Once I fully grasped this, the last bit of love I had for Chloe died completely. During the days leading up to my departure for the city down South, some gloating colleagues would privately message me, giving me updates on the “like” count. “The likes are at 994! If you don’t grovel now, someone else will steal your fiancée!” “Tsk, tsk, tsk, 997 likes already. Looks like you’re destined to be single for life.” “Oh, sticking it out for a long time this time, huh? Did you pee your pants and run away because you think you can’t compare to Trevor, hahaha?” I blocked and deleted all of them, ignoring their taunts. When the likes reached 999, and I still hadn’t shown up to beg, the tension around Chloe was suffocating. No one in the company dared to press that final “like” button. Just as Chloe was wondering how to deliver another warning, someone suddenly burst into her office, shouting, “Chloe, the 1000th like has been achieved!”
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