It was rare for James to have a weekend off. After much pleading, I finally convinced him to make sweet and sour pork ribs for me. While he was cooking, his phone on the coffee table chimed. I tapped the screen but couldn’t see clearly. Upon closer inspection, I realized he had installed a privacy screen protector. Instantly, an ominous thought crept into my mind. I suddenly recalled what a colleague had once said: “When your partner starts using a privacy screen behind your back, it means they have secrets.” Those words stung like a thorn in my heart. I tried to convince myself it was just a coincidence, but doubt grew like weeds in my mind. Fortunately, he hadn’t changed his passcode yet. I unlocked the phone. SnapChat showed a new message from an unfamiliar name. The content was simple and direct. “Miss you.” My heart clenched, my eyes fixed on those two words. Scrolling up, I found no other chat history. But those two simple words were enough to cut me deep. As I tried to calm myself, I accidentally knocked over the water glass on the table. James poked his head out of the kitchen, holding a spatula. “What’s wrong?” I forced a smile, quickly slipping the phone into my pocket. “Nothing, just wondering how far along you are.” “Not that fast,” he frowned, complaining, “This caramel is so hard to get right. Let’s eat out next time.” I paused briefly, then nodded in agreement, “Okay.” James seemed to have forgotten that I’m from New York and don’t like sweet food. The one who loves sweet and sour pork ribs is him. When we first bought this house, he had pointed at the kitchen, his eyes gleaming with confidence and anticipation. “This is my domain. No one enters without my permission!” Every weekend, he would hole up in the kitchen, experimenting with recipes just for me. Back then, he loved our home so much, loved creating beautiful memories with me. The phone in my pocket felt like it weighed a ton, digging into my thigh. After calming down, I decided to reply on his behalf. “Come over, she’s not here.” I was curious about who this person was and how James would react. Not long after, the doorbell rang shrilly. I quickly changed clothes and walked to the door. My hand rested on the cold doorknob. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to open it. The person outside was clearly startled, the excitement on their face instantly freezing when they saw me. I studied her carefully, involuntarily comparing every detail from age to appearance to figure with myself. However, the conclusion was cruel—she surpassed me in every aspect. “You must be Emily.” “You know me?” “James mentioned you.” The thought that my name might have become a topic of amusement between them only deepened my disappointment in James. She seemed to remember something and pulled out a familiar food container from her bag. “I came to return this.” “Last time James brought sweet and sour pork ribs to the office, I suddenly had low blood sugar, so he gave them to me to eat.” Looking at the lunch box she was clutching—the one James and I had bought together at the supermarket—I couldn’t help but recall how reluctant he had been when I begged him to make sweet and sour pork ribs this morning. My anger instantly ignited. I deliberately called out loudly towards the kitchen, “Honey, someone’s here to see you.” James heard the commotion and came out of the kitchen. Seeing her, he looked bewildered. I carefully observed their reactions, but didn’t see the guilt and unease I had expected. “Why are you here?” James asked, confused. “I was in the neighborhood and remembered I hadn’t returned your container, so I texted you.” “What text?” James suddenly seemed to realize something, glanced back at me, then his face darkened. “Just leave the container and go.” However, she didn’t leave immediately. Instead, she stood at the door, her eyes fixed on me. “Emily, aren’t you going to invite me in?” I couldn’t help but sneer, deliberately making way while glancing at James. “Why don’t you invite her in? We just made sweet and sour pork ribs again today.” I deliberately emphasized “sweet and sour pork ribs,” and James’s face indeed changed. “Stop it,” he said. Sensing James’s displeasure, she slowly replied. “I just remembered I have plans nearby. I got too excited and forgot. I’ll come play another time.” I didn’t say anything more, just coldly watched James see her off. When he returned, his face was so dark it looked like it could drip water. “What, missing her already?” I leaned against the door, mocking him. James glared at me angrily, “Don’t talk nonsense, she’s just my colleague.” How could I let him off so easily? “Colleague? Then what’s with her sending you ‘miss you’ messages?” James looked exhausted, “We’re just working on a project together recently. The pressure is high, so we joke around to relax a bit.” I didn’t believe his nonsense at all, and we had a huge argument. After that, James’s relationship with me became very tense. I also slowly began to reflect on whether I had been too impulsive, but I also felt James’s explanation was too unconvincing. This life had become utterly frustrating. I told my best friend Rose about my suspicions of James cheating. She laughed for a long time. After my parents passed away unexpectedly, she and James became the most important people in my life. “What nonsense are you talking about?” “Back in college, James bought our dorm bubble tea for over a semester just to pursue you. I still remember there was no KFC on campus then, so he would take the bus for over an hour each time to bring you food, not even daring to eat a single fry himself, saving it all for you.” I laughed wryly, “Really? I’ve forgotten.” Rose animatedly discussed how James had pursued me in college, but it all felt so distant to me. Indeed, 10 years had passed. In two months, I would turn 28. Before leaving, Rose earnestly advised me. “Emily, talk things through with James and set a date soon.” “Don’t let it drag on too long.” Rose and I both tacitly avoided discussing it further. The sunk cost of a 10-year relationship was something I couldn’t afford to bear. That night, I took the initiative to text James, even sending him a sexy photo of me in black stockings. In the past, he would have playfully replied, “Hubby’s coming home right away, please be patient a little longer, my dear wife.” But today, he replied three hours later with just, “Working overtime.” I exited SnapChat and opened Facebook, searching for James’s account. The glaring “Active now” status. He wasn’t at the office. By the time I realized it, my carefully grown nails had already been bitten down to the quick. After my parents passed away, I developed a habit of biting my nails when anxious. James would worry about me, saying he’d help me quit this bad habit, even volunteering to apply bitter nail polish with me. But now… Thinking of this, I felt an inexplicable irritation. I had planned not to reply, but remembering Rose’s words, I typed again. “It’s okay, I’ll wait for you to get off work.” This time, he didn’t reply. I sat in the most conspicuous spot in the living room. The tight black stockings had long been replaced with loose loungewear, but they couldn’t hide my inner anxiety and insecurity. The wall clock showed it was already 1 AM. I held the photo album James had made for me during our college days, lost in thought. When exactly did our relationship change from inseparable lovers to roommates who barely see each other? “Door open, welcome home.” The mechanical voice of the smart lock broke the night’s silence, also awakening that faint hope in the bottom of my heart. I suddenly lifted my head, my gaze piercing through the darkness, trying to capture that familiar silhouette. James stood at the door for a long time before finally stepping over the threshold. But his eyes quickly darted away the moment they met mine. That instant of avoidance hurt more than any words could, leaving me feeling utterly hopeless and cold. He stood in the entryway and suddenly lost his temper. “Can’t you fix your habit of leaving shoes everywhere?” I was stunned for a moment, about to go tidy up, when I saw him carelessly kick my shoes aside. Once upon a time, he would carefully arrange my high heels, always make sure my electric toothbrush was fully charged, and pack away my seasonal clothes well in advance. But now, all of that had become a distant memory. Lost in thought for a moment, I saw James walk out of the kitchen with a glass similar to the one in front of me. The difference was, it was a brand new glass. He sat down directly at the dining table and poured himself a glass of water. I stared at the glass in his hand, remembering our old habit of sharing a glass, suddenly feeling a bit hurt. “Why aren’t we using the same glass anymore?” “No reason.” He seemed a bit impatient, slightly turning his body away and focusing on his phone. I didn’t want us to keep cold warring like this, so I mustered up the courage to hug him from behind. “What are you doing!” He shook me off like I was the plague. I stared at the red marks on my wrist, my heart shattering. “Today is our 10th anniversary,” my voice tinged with desperation and pleading. James’s body stiffened slightly, a flash of guilt in his eyes. But it only lasted a few seconds before being replaced by his cold gaze. “What gift do you want? Text me, I’ll buy it for you tomorrow.” His tone was as flat as if he were talking about something unrelated to him. “It’ll be too late tomorrow.” I tilted my head slightly, trying to win him over with the cuteness he used to love. He once said he loved it most when I puffed out my cheeks in anger, saying I looked as cute as a pufferfish. But now, his gaze only grew colder, as if I were a complete stranger. “Emily.” He coldly called out my name, making my heart skip a beat. Using my full name meant the invisible wall between us had grown thicker. “Stop it.” Those three short words cut like an icy wind. “We’re both 28 now, not kids anymore. Life isn’t built on anniversaries.” My heart contracted violently, as if struck by a heavy hammer, the pain unbearable. The man before me, in his suit and tie, mature and steady, was a far cry from the sunny boy in white who used to smile so brightly in my memories. I stared at him, trying to find a trace of the past in his face, but only saw unfamiliarity and resolution. Finally, I gave up arguing with him, just mumbling, “Yeah, I’m already 28.” He seemed to guess what I was going to say next and quickly interrupted me. “You know, my career is at a critical point right now, I don’t want to get married yet…” James was about to say more when his phone rang inopportunely. He glanced at me and quickly rejected the call. My heart sank, but I still maintained a calm facade, even with a hint of fawning. “So, when do you want to get married?” He didn’t answer me directly, nor did he let me continue waiting. Instead— “If you feel wronged being with me, then…” “Then break up with you? How did I become the bad guy?” The words that slipped out made us both calm down. In the end, it was James who broke the silence. “I’m not good enough for you.” I suddenly got angry, the emotions I had been suppressing all night reaching their peak. “Now you feel you’re not good enough? Why didn’t you think that when you were chasing me so publicly back then?” James’s face instantly turned ashen. His lips moved slightly, as if wanting to say something, but after a moment’s struggle, he gave up. Just like our relationship now, he didn’t even have the will to salvage it. I watched him walk towards the guest room with a black face, not saying a word. Until he struggled to open the door for a while and angrily turned back to shout at me. “Emily! Can you stop messing around! Open the door!” I kept a cold face, trying hard to suppress the displeasure and disappointment surging inside. “I told you to change that lock ages ago. The balcony window wasn’t closed today, and the wind was too strong, so it slammed shut. I can’t open it either.” He instinctively looked towards the balcony, as if to verify what I said. The atmosphere around us became even heavier, a suffocating oppression filling the air. Until he spoke first, breaking this silence. “Then I’ll go stay at a hotel.” The rational defense line completely collapsed at this moment. I suddenly stood up, my voice sharp and piercing. I hysterically shouted, “What, is this big house not enough for you now? Or are you just too lazy to even pretend anymore?” James’s face became extremely ugly, a flash of shock in his eyes. He seemed to have never seen me so out of control before, momentarily at a loss for words. “If anyone should go to a hotel, it should be me. After all, you bought this house, how could I make you leave.” I continued my high-frequency output, as if giving him a hard time could make me feel better. Or perhaps, deep down, I hoped that making a fuss like this would make him care about my feelings again. “Emily, you’re always like this, never considering others’ feelings when you speak or act.” “What do you mean?” I glared at him like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “What do I mean? Last week when you deliberately called my colleague over, did you ever think about how I’d face people at work afterwards?” “Face them? How to face them? She sends you those ambiguous messages, and I can’t say anything?” “I don’t want to explain anymore. Think whatever you want.” He completely cold-shouldered me, ignoring my anger and insecurity. Then he walked towards the door without looking back. When he reached the door, he suddenly stopped, but didn’t turn around. “Emily, if you really can’t go on, let’s just end it.” I held my neck stiffly, not answering. The frustration in my heart was about to explode. At this moment, I was certain James didn’t love me anymore. After that day, James didn’t come home again. On Friday night, Rose sent a message in our group chat with three people. “Friends, I’m getting married!” Following that was an elaborately designed invitation. She tagged me and James. “You two college sweethearts must come support me, the time and place are written above, be there on time!” I waited for a long time but didn’t see James reply. Not wanting Rose to worry, I responded. “Mm, we’ll be there.” Just after I sent it, James’s private message popped up. “Just find some excuse, say I’m on a business trip or sick, I won’t go.” I hesitated for a few seconds, “But they’ve invited us, it’s not right not to go.” “Besides, Rose is my best friend.” I watched the “typing” indicator above the SnapChat dialogue box. After waiting for a long time, until— “Emily, let’s break up.” I stared at the screen, tears falling uncontrollably. Clumsily moving my already stiff fingers, I repeatedly typed on the keyboard, but hesitated and deleted each time. After a long while, I angrily pressed send. “Fine.” When I first met James, he was being scolded by our counselor. “James, I chose you as class monitor considering your poor family background. Being a student leader can add points, which will be very helpful for your future scholarship applications.” James bowed his back, “Yes, I’m very grateful to you. It’s just that I had a high fever last week and couldn’t help you move. Next time you need anything, I’ll be there immediately.” After overhearing a bit more, I learned that this tall boy had often been ordered around by the short, chubby counselor in front of him to do hard labor. “You say that, but I ask you for help because I know you’re a country boy. I’m just looking out for you a bit more.” “Yes, I…” “I’d say rather than looking out for him, why not introduce him to a proper part-time job? Besides, those few points from being a student leader are nothing compared to what he could get from winning a competition or something.” “Who are you?” Great, he doesn’t recognize me. “Who I am doesn’t matter, I just can’t stand you bullying people.” I walked over and pulled the dumbfounded James away. “Hey…” “Are you stupid?” James smiled bitterly and shook his head, “I know he doesn’t have good intentions, but I thought it’s better to avoid trouble. Besides, being a student leader looks good on the resume after graduation.” “You’re worried about your resume with all those first prizes you’ve won?” James was stunned, only now really looking at me. “You’re the… from the English Cup competition…” “Second place!!” I said angrily. If it weren’t for him butting in, I would have gotten first place, and the DSLR camera my dad promised to buy me would have been in my hands long ago. “Hi.” He scratched his head shyly and smiled. “Hi my ass.” I turned and left. After that, James became my shadow, following me wherever I went. It wasn’t long before he confessed to me. I didn’t play coy either. I had my eye on him since the English Cup competition, how could I let him go? The reminiscence came to an abrupt end. After I agreed to break up, James didn’t contact me again until that night. I was revising my new resume at the company when I suddenly received a call from James’s friend. “Sis, I’m with James at Mirage KTV. He’s drunk too much and we’re worried something might happen. Can you come pick him up?” I guessed James probably hadn’t told them about our breakup yet. “Alright, I’ll come over now.”
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