I never imagined I’d be able to share sensations with my boyfriend of three years. This morning, I greeted him as usual and tilted my face up for a kiss. He instinctively dodged, his eyes filled with barely concealed disgust. He’s just turned twenty-one, not even graduated from college yet. At this vigorous age, he’s starting to reject my touch. He got up, took his phone, and went to the bathroom right in front of me. Moments later, muffled groans of pleasure came from inside. My heart grew colder by the inch. I sat numbly on the bed, listening to the sounds of washing up from the bathroom. I watched Chase rummage through the closet for clothes, spray on some cologne, check himself in the mirror repeatedly, then hurry off to class. Throughout it all, he didn’t spare me a single glance. I picked up Chase’s tablet from the bedside and scrolled through his chat history with an online store. Customer Service: Handsome, it’s been a while since you last shopped here. We’ve got new items in stock. Chase: Not buying anymore. I have zero interest in her now. I’m only 21, and she’s 35, almost 36 – an old woman. I feel sick just looking at her wrinkles. Can’t even get it up. Customer Service: … Customer Service: That can’t be right. You used to buy from us quite often. You said you loved your girlfriend. Chase: Anyway, I feel nothing for her now. I used to think she was low-maintenance, understanding, never dramatic. She took care of everything and always apologized first when we argued. Now it all feels so dull. Being with her, I don’t feel like I’m in a relationship at all. When I find my ideal young and cute girlfriend, I’ll buy from you again. The message showed as read, but there was no reply. I turned off the tablet, feeling dizzy. I grabbed my hair hard. I laughed at myself. I had discovered this chat last night. It was crystal clear, yet I still foolishly tried to test him this morning, only to humiliate myself. He doesn’t love me anymore. He’s disgusted by my aging. His ideal girlfriend must be the girl in the photos he looks at before pleasuring himself in the bathroom. I fell back onto the bed, surprisingly without a trace of tears. After all, for a woman my age, crying and breaking down would be undignified.
I got up quietly and washed up. Near noon, I started receiving birthday messages from various brand websites I’d registered with. Only then did I remember – today is my birthday. I stared at the wilted, yellowing hydrangeas on the coffee table, now attracting fruit flies. In a daze, I recalled that three years ago today, 18-year-old Chase was the first to say he loved me. Back then, Chase had just started college. He was being bullied at his part-time job at my company when I stepped in to help him. His eyes sparkled as he looked at me with admiration, following me around, constantly calling me “big sis”. It annoyed me so much that I had no choice but to take him under my wing. Back then, Chase was pure and sincere. He would always steal glances at me, quickly looking away when I caught him, pretending nothing happened. Only his ears would slowly turn red. When other interns tried to flirt with me, Chase would get anxious, staying close to me like a little wolf guarding its territory. Occasionally, when we had accidental physical contact, he would blush and sit still for hours, too embarrassed to move. On my 32nd birthday, he showed up with a huge bouquet of my favorite hydrangeas and a birthday cake. The young man’s gaze was shy yet brave and persistent. He said he loved me. I told him our age gap was too big and that I needed to think about it. For the next few days, Chase visibly became anxious and lost weight. When I finally said yes, the joy in his eyes was almost overflowing. He hugged me tightly, his low voice swirling around my ears like a vow, “Vera, from now on, every birthday of yours will be our anniversary. I’ll always be with you to celebrate.” … My phone kept ringing with birthday wishes from family, friends, and even colleagues flooding in. Only the pinned chat with Chase remained silent at the top. Silent as if that boy who loved me three years ago was just a figment of my imagination. I got up and threw the wilted flowers from the vase into the trash. Rotten, spoiled things shouldn’t be kept anymore. The same goes for flowers and people.
I tidied up a bit and left for work. Everything changes, except for the work I’ve poured my heart and soul into, and the balance in my bank account. While working overtime late at night, my young assistant suddenly pulled out a box. “Ms. Vera, I’ve been so busy I almost forgot the iPhone you asked me to buy for you.” She glanced at her watch and tilted her head with a smile, “This is your birthday gift to yourself, right? Good thing it’s only 11:55 PM, still before midnight. Just in time.” “Happy birthday, Ms. Vera!” I smiled and took the box, turning it over in my hands. I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. Chase’s chat remained silent on my phone, as if today was just another ordinary day in the countless boring days we’ve spent together. This phone wasn’t my birthday gift. It was the third anniversary gift I had prepared for Chase. Before leaving work, I sent Chase a message. “Come home early after class tomorrow. I have something to tell you.” “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” After a while, he replied with two words: “Whatever.”
I sat in the car all night. I opened Chase’s chat, staring at the word “Whatever” for a while. Scrolling up, there were many more green bubbles than white ones, with occasional transfers of thousands or tens of thousands for his pocket money. Most of the time it was me talking, often asking what he wanted to eat, where he wanted to go on weekends, or sharing work-related stuff. Chase would either reply “Whatever,” or “Mm,” or not reply at all. Scrolling further up to chat logs from half a year ago, almost all the messages were from me, with Chase’s replies few and far between. I sighed softly and unpinned his chat. Even without his rant to the online store, his boredom and indifference towards me were obvious. … I watched the sky change from pitch black to the first light of dawn. After Chase left for school, I returned to the small apartment we shared. I had bought this apartment near his school when we first got together. Chase’s dirty clothes were strewn haphazardly on the sofa. I stuffed them into the washing machine, checked the time, then went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Braised fish, yu xiang eggplant, and sweet and sour ribs – all Chase’s favorites that I had specially learned to make. Maybe I was distracted, but while washing the knife, I sliced off a chunk of my finger. Blood immediately flowed everywhere. When Chase came home from school, I was tightly wrapping my finger with tissue paper. He didn’t look at me, just glanced at the dishes on the table and frowned. He sat down matter-of-factly and picked at the food. Perhaps to him, I was just like this table of dishes he had grown tired of. “Chase…” Chase was eating while replying to messages on his phone, the corners of his mouth curved in pleasure. He just grunted in response without looking up. “I’m going out for a bit.” The wound was quite deep. Blood quickly soaked through the tissue paper, staining my white top red. Looking at this mess, a wave of grievance welled up. My voice carried a hint of tears. “Chase…” I hoped Chase would look up at me for once. But his response was still just a low “Mm.” I sniffled and went to the pharmacy downstairs for treatment. The young pharmacist was startled. “Ma’am, the wound is too deep. I can bandage it for you, but you should really go to the hospital.” I shook my head and left. The moment I opened the door upon returning home, a sweet, coquettish “Senior, you’re so capable” echoed in the living room. Chase hurriedly paused the voice message and looked up at me somewhat unnaturally: “Where’s my blue shirt? I want to wear it tomorrow.” Then he went back to eating. The mirror in the entryway reflected my red, swollen eyes and pale, sallow complexion. Suddenly, I felt like crying. I took a deep breath to compose myself and sat down across from Chase. “Yesterday was our third anniversary. What gift would you like?” Chase’s phone on the table kept buzzing. I glanced at it – the contact was simply saved as “Junior,” simple yet intimate. Must be the young, vibrant girl of his dreams. Chase quickly flipped his phone over, sounding irritated, “I don’t know. I don’t want anything.” I took out the phone box. “I’ve prepared a gift for you – the latest iPhone model you’ve been wanting.” Chase’s eyes lit up. Just as he was about to reach for it, my phone rang. In the quiet living room, my mother’s loud voice was exceptionally clear. “You’re almost 40, an old maid! I think that Gu guy is not bad. Make time to meet him. When are you going to get married? You keep saying you have a boyfriend, but I’ve never even seen him!” I instinctively looked at Chase. He lowered his eyes guiltily. After briefly dealing with the call, I saw Chase firmly push back the phone box I had offered him. He took a deep breath, eyes downcast, not daring to look at me. I smiled and took back the box. “If you don’t want the gift, that’s fine. Are you full? This meal was to commemorate our third anniversary, and it’s also our farewell dinner.” I looked into his eyes and told him word by word: “Chase, let’s break up.”
Chase was stunned at first, then visibly relaxed. “Okay.” His answer was quick and decisive, as if afraid I might change my mind. He stared into my eyes, his tone tinged with guilt: “I don’t love you anymore. I never thought about marrying you.” “You can think I’m a jerk, but I just don’t love you anymore.” “I’m sorry.” I lowered my eyes, not wanting to look at him anymore. When we first got together, I had asked Chase, “I’m fourteen years older than you. I’ll age quickly. You won’t love me anymore in the future.” Back then, Chase hugged me, kissed the top of my head, and smiled, “They say love is like nurturing a flower. A woman who is loved won’t age. From now on, I’ll tell you I love you a thousand times every day, so you won’t grow old, Vera.” After that day, Chase always said he loved me. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy. When he stopped saying he loved me every day, I aged in his eyes. Chase, who used to always have “I love you” on his lips, now spoke of not loving me with such resolution and coldness for the sake of breaking up. I found it somewhat amusing. Suddenly feeling a sense of tearing apart, I could only nod calmly, “It’s all over.” Chase seemed surprised by my calmness.
My breakup with Chase was very peaceful. He awkwardly took a suitcase, intending to pack his things, but came out of the room empty-handed moments later. I sat on the sofa, fidgeting with the box in my hands, feeling like laughing. Almost everything he owned was bought by me. What did he have to pack? He glanced at me quickly, leaving with an almost inaudible “I’m going.” He ran out of the apartment as if escaping. I looked around the room. From the gaming computer to the socks in the drawer, everything was filled with traces of Chase. Scattered around were the speech drafts I had helped him write for the English speaking contest I had encouraged him to join at school. On the computer were the slides I had stayed up all night to prepare for his school’s publicity department. And the clothes I had bought for him whenever I saw something suitable. Those slides were saved on a USB drive that I had rushed to deliver to his school when I realized he had forgotten to take it. That day, Chase hung his head, his tone somewhat agitated, “Who asked you to come find me at school!” He snatched the USB drive and turned to leave. The boys around him laughed and teased. I don’t know what Chase said, but one of the boys turned and waved at me with a grin, his voice clear and loud: “Goodbye, auntie!” I shook my head in annoyance. I found some garbage bags and stuffed all these odds and ends into them. After cleaning up, the apartment felt empty. Unnaturally tidy. I collapsed onto the bed, feeling drained, staring blankly at the ceiling. The surroundings were eerily quiet, with the ticking of the wall clock exceptionally clear. I picked up my phone. Chase had updated his status. “I’m finally free. Ending what’s wrong to pursue what’s right.” Just now, at 2 AM, he updated again with just three words: Can’t sleep. I blinked. He must not be used to the dorm, I thought. After all, in the past, as soon as he complained about noisy roommates or hard dorm beds, I immediately rented him an apartment. Whenever he called me “Vera,” I would solve all his problems. Lost in thought, my phone vibrated, showing several transactions on the joint account I had set up for Chase. I unlinked the joint account and froze the supplementary credit card I had given him. After doing all this, drowsiness gradually overcame me. I turned over and fell into a deep sleep.
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