By the fifth year of being with Ethan Taylor, he said he was tired of me. Then one day, he brought home a young, beautiful college girl. That’s when I finally gave up completely. I left behind a bank card, booked a midnight flight, and left Kingston without looking back. Our mutual friends all bet I’d be crawling back in no time. Ethan seemed equally confident, casually telling his friends: “She’ll be back within a week, like a dog clinging to my pant leg, begging me to take her back.” But a week passed. Then another. Half a month went by. And I stayed silent. For the first time, Ethan grew restless. He showed up unannounced, his face dark with irritation. “Are you done with this tantrum yet? I don’t have time to play games with you—” Before he could finish, the man sitting beside me chuckled lightly. “Mr. Taylor,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “a woman isn’t someone you coax like a child. You cherish her. If you truly love her, you wouldn’t even dare to let her get upset.” Ethan’s face flushed red with anger. “She’s my girlfriend. That’s none of your business!” The man leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “And she’s my fiancée. Jealous, are you?”
In our fifth year together, it was Ethan’s 30th birthday—his big milestone. I had secretly bought plane tickets to take him to my hometown to meet my father and discuss our marriage. But unfortunately, I arrived a few minutes late to his birthday party. And what greeted me was the sound of his laughter, mocking me with his friends: “Marry Sophia? Are you kidding? I’m already sick of her.” Ethan downed his drink, laughing like it was the funniest joke in the world. “I’ve been keeping her around for five years—she’s long past her expiration date. There are so many younger, prettier girls out there waiting for my attention.” His friends chimed in, laughing along: “Exactly! With your looks and money, Ethan, Sophia should be grateful you’ve kept her this long. Without you, who knows where she’d be—probably stuck in some backwoods nowhere.” Another added, “But to be fair, Sophia’s got her charms. She’s got that unique beauty, you know?” “Yeah, her face is stunning, and her body’s perfect. Remember that black dress she wore to your gala? Had all of us drooling, man.” One of them laughed and said, “But seriously, Ethan, you used to treat her like a queen. Are you really treating her like a dog now?” Ethan’s response was cold, emotionless. “Call her, and she’ll come. Tell her to leave, and she’s gone. What do you think?” The room erupted in laughter. I stood outside the private room, frozen. I didn’t dare go in. Instead, I made up an excuse, called Ethan, and told him I wasn’t feeling well and was heading home. He didn’t even bother replying before hanging up. That night, I made my decision.
For the next few days, Ethan didn’t come home. But unlike before, I didn’t call or text to ask where he was or who he was with. I just quietly went about my life. In a small city like Kingston, though, news traveled fast. I didn’t have to ask to hear what he was up to. Ethan was chasing after a 19-year-old dance major from the arts academy. She was young, vibrant, and beautiful, and he was smitten. He pursued her loudly and extravagantly, showering her with gifts: a house, jewelry, a car—anything she wanted. The girl, of course, was dazzled by the attention. Within a week, they’d already checked into a hotel together. But what I didn’t expect was for Ethan to bring her home. The girl strutted in like she owned the place, wasting no time ordering me around: “Make me a honey-lemon tea. Oh, and don’t forget the ice.” I didn’t respond, just sat at the dining table quietly eating my dinner. Ethan wrapped an arm around her, sitting across from me. His gaze was cold as he said, “Sophia, are you deaf? Do you really think you’re the lady of this house? I’ve never acknowledged you as such.” I gripped my chopsticks tightly, trying to steady my trembling hands. He wasn’t wrong. In the five years we’d been together, I had given everything without ever asking for a title, for acknowledgment. Back when I was in high school, my father had fallen from a construction site and broken his leg. The contractor, heartless and cruel, offered only $300 in compensation to make us go away. Faced with impossible medical bills and my father lying helpless in a hospital bed, I had nowhere else to turn. That’s when I met Ethan Taylor, the developer overseeing the construction project. He not only took on all my father’s medical expenses but also brought me out of my small mountain town and into the bustling capital for school. Over the years, my admiration for him grew into a love even I didn’t notice at first. But Ethan never saw me the same way. For him, I was just a fleeting responsibility—something he soon grew tired of. I bit my lip and nodded, forcing a smile. “You’re right, Mr. Taylor. I’ve overstepped. I’ve been fortunate to have your care all these years.” Ethan raised an eyebrow, surprised by my sudden compliance. After a pause, he said, “Well, I wouldn’t call it care. But you’ve been with me long enough. I suppose it’s time we…” “Part ways,” I interrupted, my voice steady. “Now that you’ve found someone you truly care about, it’s best we go our separate ways. You wouldn’t want such a young, sweet girl to suffer because of me.” “She deserves a proper place in your life.” I smiled politely and excused myself to pack my things. But the moment I turned around, tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. Five years. In all that time, Ethan had never once acknowledged me in front of his friends, never once promised me a future. That night, I booked a flight out of Kingston. I left behind nothing but a bank card. The bank card was originally given to me by Ethan Taylor, so I returned it to him untouched. Not only that, but I also transferred back every penny he had ever paid for my father’s medical bills and my tuition fees, line by line, according to the receipts. Before leaving, I took off the jade bracelet from my wrist and left it on the vanity. The bracelet was a gift from Ethan for my 18th birthday—a coming-of-age present. I had once promised him I’d never take it off unless the day came when we would never see each other again. My flight was booked for 3 a.m., heading to Southport, my hometown.
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