After we got back together. I shed all the bad habits Julian Sterling hated. No more tracking his every move, no more getting jealous over nothing, no more sweating the small stuff. I even found a lipstick in the passenger seat that wasn’t mine. I carefully put it away for him. But Julian’s face darkened, and he slammed on the brakes. Julian had sharp, angular features and an intensity that instantly commanded attention, making him effortlessly intimidating. Yet at this moment, he pinched the bridge of his nose, looking utterly exhausted. “That lipstick belongs to Cassie Davies.” “Last night, the business dinner ran late. She covered for me with drinks, couldn’t drive, so I dropped her off.” He looked at me, giving an explanation he usually disdained: “I’ve told you countless times, it’s only because she’s the daughter of a close family friend and business partner that I have to look out for her.” “Whether in the past, now, or in the future, there’s absolutely nothing between us.” Seeing my silence. His usually composed expression showed a rare crack. A hint of helplessness, something I’d never seen on his face, peeked through: “What will it take for you to believe me?” I calmly said, “Nothing, I believe you. I’m not angry.” Like a punch landing on a pillow, Julian’s expression went blank for a rare moment: “…Then why haven’t you said a word this whole time?” I glanced at my watch, calculating the time to the airport, and brushed him off: “You used to say you didn’t like hearing useless information.” “I’m going to be late for work. Why don’t you just drop me off at this intersection?” My focus was entirely on the road ahead, completely missing Julian’s face as it instantly turned grim. “You always get off at the next traffic light.” “It’s still two miles from our office here.” I hadn’t thought of that, forced to meet Julian’s scrutinizing gaze: “It’s early morning. If not to the office, where are you going?” Just as Julian’s hesitation deepened… “Ding—!” The exclusive ringtone, Cassie Davies. Julian’s sharp gaze retracted, his eyes darting around, a guilty attempt to appear innocent: “It’s a work call. I need to take it.” He immediately threw his suspicion of me out the window, unlocking the car: “Then you can get out here.” I nodded, quickly unbuckled my seatbelt, and he called out to me. “Don’t be so clumsy. Watch where you’re walking.” His voice softened behind me, a hint of coaxing. “That restaurant you always wanted to try? I booked it.” “I promised you before, I’ll never miss another anniversary.” “Happy seventh anniversary.” “Aurora, see you tonight.” My hand, on the car door, paused. The last anniversary, he’d left me for Cassie Davies. It hurt so much then, but now, recalling it, my heart felt strangely calm. “Go on, answer the phone,” I said softly, opening my mouth. “Don’t keep them waiting.” After all, Cassie Davies couldn’t wait. And neither could my plane. As for anniversaries. This year, next year, every year after that, I’d be absent.
I finally made it onto the plane. After settling into my seat, I felt a little dizzy, having missed breakfast. Habitually, I reached into my pocket and, sure enough, found three chocolates. Ever since I’d fainted from low blood sugar a long time ago. Every day, Julian would habitually put a few chocolates in my pocket. The sweetness melted on my tongue, and the dizziness quickly subsided. But then, a persistent, lingering bitterness crept up. Seven years together. How did Julian and I end up like this? At first, I truly believed Cassie Davies was just a ‘favor’ he had to do for a family friend, someone he brought into the company out of obligation. That’s why Julian had to be strictly professional with me at work multiple times, while giving her special treatment. My department head, Mr. Henderson, would constantly make my life miserable, and nothing would happen; but if he was even slightly curt with Cassie, he’d be fired. Everyone secretly nicknamed Cassie behind her back, calling her the future Mrs. Sterling even to me, Julian’s secret girlfriend. I forced myself to understand his difficulties, but this ‘special treatment’ extended to our home. Julian would repeatedly leave me for her phone calls. A furious argument erupted one night. I saw a photo in a colleague’s SnapChat group. Julian, who told me he was working late, was out watching a midnight movie with Cassie Davies. It was the exact movie I’d begged Julian to see with me multiple times, only to be ruthlessly rejected. I tugged on his sleeve, swaying, “Everyone watches it with their true love! Let’s go too!” Julian didn’t even bother to lift an eyelid, refusing, “Watching those mindless rom-coms is a waste of life.” But the man in the photo looked dashing, smiling brightly. Not a trace of impatience. The messages in the SnapChat group scrolled furiously, then blurred into a jumble before my eyes. When Julian came home, I asked him, my voice devoid of inflection: “Was ‘Ever After’ good?” A hint of surprise seemed to flash in his eyes. Or perhaps I was mistaken. He was utterly indifferent, expressionless: “Are you stalking me?” My heart felt heavy, suffocated, like a thick, wet towel pressed against it, stealing my breath. “Why would I need to stalk you?” “Your sweet photos with her are all over the company SnapChat group!” My chest heaved uncontrollably: “Julian, if you want to break up, just say so. You don’t need to lie to me like this!” Julian’s expression didn’t even change, calm as an outsider. “If you don’t even have basic trust in me, then I have nothing more to say.” “Aurora, I’ve had a long day. I don’t have the energy to argue with you.” No guilt, no explanation. Compared to my frantic state, he was so composed. He even remembered to place the paper bag in his hand steadily on the table. The words ‘Ever After’ on the paper bag were like icy daggers, plunging straight into my heart. All the emotions I’d suppressed for so long, mixed with a tidal wave of resentment, crashed down on me. Finally, it snapped the last thread of my sanity. I snatched the paper bag in a fit of rage, smashing it to the floor. It wasn’t sealed. The contents tumbled out, vying for release. Making a few soft thuds. I didn’t even look, just stared at Julian, my eyes red-rimmed. We met gazes, a silent standoff. After a long moment, he slammed the door and left. I stood there, stiff as a statue. Until something rolled to my feet. I looked down, startled. Chocolates. Handmade chocolates, scattered all over the floor.
I still caved. I wanted to talk to him properly. But for three whole days, Julian didn’t answer my calls and didn’t come home. Swallowing my hurt, I sent him a message. “It was wrong of me to lose my temper without communicating first.” “But it’s also true that you said you were working late but went to the movies with her.” “Tonight is our six-year anniversary. I’ll be waiting for you at home.” “Can we sit down and talk, please?” But I waited from morning till night, and he didn’t come back. As it approached eleven, I made up my mind to go to his office. On the way, I ran into Mr. Henderson, the department head Julian had fired because of Cassie. He grabbed me and dragged me into the shadows: “Damn it, I can’t go after *her*, but you’re fair game!” Repeated unanswered calls to my private number, desperate, hopeless cries for help. If a passerby hadn’t intervened and scared him off, my injuries wouldn’t have been limited to just a swollen, bruised face. When my phone suddenly rang. Like a startled bird, I let out a short, sharp scream. Seeing the name on the screen, my entire back, which I’d kept rigid all night, instantly collapsed. I almost cried out, a cry of pure relief: “Jul—” “Hello?” Cassie’s sweet, innocent voice purred: “Julian’s in the shower~” “I saw you called several times.” “May I ask who this is, and what’s the matter?” My throat felt like it was stuffed with burning coals. The raw, throbbing flesh felt seared, utterly ravaged. It hurt so much I wanted to tear out my own vocal cords. Hanging up the phone, such a simple act, seemed to drain all my strength. I limped, utterly humiliated, to the police station to report the assault. When everything was finally over, and my alarm clock read 00:01 the next day. I finally received a call from Julian. His tone was still so arrogant: “Realize your mistake?” I instantly understood, he had done it on purpose. All those unanswered calls on our “anniversary.” They were his punishment for my “lack of trust” in him. Tears streamed down my swollen face, burning like acid on an open wound. When I spoke, my voice was a raw, rasping whisper. I said, “Julian, let’s break up.” The other end of the line was silent for just one second. Julian scoffed, “Fine. Don’t regret it.” He hung up without hesitation. Agreeing to the breakup without a second thought.
At first, I just found it hard to sleep. I couldn’t help but repeatedly replay the details of our time together. I was terrified I’d misjudged him, condemned him unfairly. I started going back through our SnapChat messages again and again. But the more I looked, the sadder I became, the more resentful. I started to hate Julian. Six years, a whole six years. I hated that he’d discarded me so casually, like I was trash. At four in the morning, I painfully deleted all his accounts. I got up, and in a fit of anger, gathered all his belongings. Shoved them into a large trash bag and slammed it into the dumpster downstairs. After all that, I expected to feel relieved. But it was like painstakingly killing a mosquito that had been tormenting me, only to find it was my own blood that splattered. I went to work on time, as if nothing had happened. But only I knew that a huge chunk of my heart had been ripped out. That part of me had once belonged to Julian, but it had festered. To survive, I’d surgically removed that dead, rotting piece of my heart. But I forgot that if the wound was too big, a person couldn’t survive. The emotions came crashing back completely when I saw him at a company meeting. Julian was still unfazed, composed, and utterly in control. He looked even more vibrant, more confident. As if losing me had had absolutely no impact on him. Cassie Davies, thinking she was subtle, met his gaze, her face flushing slightly. I started having sleepless nights, throwing up everything I ate. Julian didn’t use social media. So I obsessively stalked Cassie’s social media accounts. Analyzing every signature, every post related to Julian. Until I fainted from low blood sugar at work and was rushed to the hospital. Julian deigned to visit me at the hospital. It was the twenty-ninth day since our breakup. He idly twirled our matching couple’s ring on his finger: “Aurora, you’ve lost weight.” My gaze was blank, and I spoke mechanically. “I’m sorry.” Julian offered a triumphant smile. We got back together. They say, “better a sharp sting than a slow bleed.” But that doesn’t apply to everyone.
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