My girlfriend Rachel was sick and hospitalized. When I arrived with the soup I’d made, I overheard her conversation with her friends: “Connor’s back. Time to dump that substitute you’ve been keeping around for three years, don’t you think?” Vivian’s voice was teasing. “After you two break up, let me have a shot at him. I’ve never dated that type of guy before,” Madison said with a laugh. Rachel’s cold voice drifted out from the hospital room: “Do whatever you want. He’s easy to get anyway.” I stood outside the door, clutching the thermos, my fingers tightening bit by bit. That night, I discovered her secret Instagram account, filled with years of pining for her first love. No arguments, no confrontations. I calmly booked a flight to Paris. On our three-year anniversary, Rachel fell down the stairs at her office and sprained her ankle. When she called, I rushed to the hospital. She explained she’d been hurrying to the restaurant, worried about keeping me waiting, and accidentally missed a step. I took several days off work to stay by her bedside and take care of her. On the day of her discharge, her friends came to visit, so I felt comfortable heading home to make soup. The thermos in my arms held freshly made chicken soup. I planned my return to the hospital so that I would arrive at just the right time. The hospital room door was slightly ajar. As I approached, I heard voices inside. Rachel’s friend Vivian was patting her shoulder, barely suppressing a grin. “You don’t need to be that happy that Conno’rs back, do you? Rushing to pick him up from the airport and falling down the stairs.” Hearing the name Connor made my heart skip a beat. He was part of her close circle of friends from college—two girls and one guy, all very close. Connor Hayes had been Rachel’s first love. They’d dated for two years in college before he went abroad. Even after their breakup, they were still considered the perfect couple by their circle. I’d occasionally hear the two girls tease Rachel about him. To them, if Connor hadn’t left, I would never have had a chance with Rachel. She used to argue against it every time. But this time, perhaps because I wasn’t there, Rachel remained silent. Madison was still joking around: “Your unforgettable guy is back. When are you dumping the substitute boyfriend?” “After you break up, can I go after him? I’ve never dated a guy like that before.” Rachel finally looked up, frowning slightly as she swatted at her. “Connor hasn’t made his intentions clear yet. Why the rush?” “Besides, I’m not fully recovered yet. I still need him to take care of me when I get home.” My ears were ringing, as if something was muffling my hearing. After the shock came a numb sense of disorientation. Madison seemed unbothered. She casually peeled one of the oranges I’d bought. “He looks pretty clean-cut, but you’re always telling me how proactive he is in intimate situations.” “I’m really curious about that contrast.” I stood there holding the warm thermos in the heated hallway, but my whole body felt like it had fallen into an ice cave. I’d never imagined that my girlfriend of three years would talk about me like this behind my back. Rachel’s voice came through the door, so cold it had no warmth at all: “Go ahead and pursue him if you want. He’ starved for affection anyway—easy to get.” “I just sweet-talked him a bit back then, and we ended up sleeping together.” I caught my breath. The pain in my chest was excruciating. I heard the two women in the hospital room laugh quietly, and I instantly felt sick enough to vomit. I covered my mouth and rushed to the bathroom, dry heaving. So my girlfriend of three years had only seen me as a substitute for her first love. I’d thought she just didn’t love me as much as I loved her. I never imagined she actually despised me. Not only did she not love me—she didn’t even see me as a person. To her, I was apparently no different from trash on the street. The illusion shattered. I could barely fathom that the person I’d wanted to spend my life with was so deeply vile. Looking back now, I realized that Rachel’s friends could openly joke about her and other men right in front of me because they had no respect for me at all. When they came over to our place, they always ordered me around like a servant. And the fact that my girlfriend’s friends didn’t respect me fundamentally came from her permission and encouragement. The gentleness she showed me was just an act. I threw the chicken soup I’d spent two hours making into the trash. The thought of breaking up had never been clearer than in this moment. When I walked into the hospital room, I’d mostly stabilized my emotions. Seeing me return empty-handed, Rachel’s expression immediately changed, her face full of displeasure: “Didn’t you say you were going home to make me soup? Why did you come back empty-handed?” Madison chimed in from the side. “Yeah, Adrian, Rachel was just telling me how thoughtful you are.” Madison’s expression was like she was watching a show, and she added meaningfully: “Adrian, you might not even get the chance to make soup for Rachel anymore.” I instinctively looked at Rachel, only to find she had no intention of stopping Madison. Probably because Connor was back and she wanted to dump me immediately, Rachel wasn’t even pretending anymore. Or maybe she wanted to give my “rebellion” a little “punishment.”
I remained silent, my eyes fixed on Rachel. This was the woman I’d loved for three years. I used to think that even if Rachel didn’t love me enough, my love for her would be sufficient. Or maybe one day she’d be moved by me? But everything was mocking me for being too naive. “It didn’t turn out well today. I drank it all myself.” I smiled and picked up the lightest bag, quickly heading out of the hospital room. “Let’s pack up and go home.” I didn’t want to carry all the luggage like a servant anymore, as I always had. The atmosphere was cold the whole way home. Rachel was still mad at me. But I had no intention of coaxing her. I also needed time to process my own emotions. As soon as we got home, Rachel’s other friend Madison came over too. She was holding a cat in her arms, bursting through the door with a grin. I’ve been allergic to cat fur since childhood. I backed away in alarm, covering my nose. “Rachel, didn’t you tell them I’m allergic to cats?!” I frowned, staring intently at the Ragdoll cat in Madison’s arms, not daring to let my guard down for a moment. When I was little, I accidentally held a neighbor’s cat and ended up in the hospital for a whole week. Before Rachel could speak, Madison rolled her eyes at me. “This is Connor’s Ragdoll. He bought it abroad—super expensive. I begged him forever before he let me bring it over to play with for a few days.” “Adrian, don’t be so difficult.” Rachel had long been dissatisfied with my attitude, feeling I’d made her lose face in front of her friends. Now she finally found an opportunity to vent. Her expression was icy. “It’s just a cat. Is it going to kill you?” She stopped hiding her disgust for me, even taking the cat from Madison’s hands and pushing it toward me. “I’m going to fix this allergy of yours. What’s the big deal about one cat?” Rachel knew exactly how severe my allergic reactions were, but at this moment, she still didn’t take me seriously. I dodged while Rachel closed in. The Ragdoll was being squeezed painfully by the neck and shrieked, lunging at me out of control. Even though I reacted immediately, the cat’s claws still left a mark on my neck, and I got a mouthful of cat fur. Half a minute later, I started having difficulty breathing. My heart raced and cold sweat poured from my body. “Quick… call an ambulance.” Rachel sneered: “Adrian, stop pretending.” It was Madison who noticed my face getting paler and paler and spoke up: “Rachel, Adrian doesn’t look like he’s faking. We should call for help!” In the moment of hesitation, I collapsed heavily to the floor. Before losing consciousness, I saw Rachel’s panicked expression as she and Madison and Vivian fought over who would call the ambulance. When I woke up, I was alone in the hospital room. The room was pitch dark. Because of their so-called “fun,” I’d nearly gone into shock and been sent to the hospital. And now not one of them was by my side. A nurse came in and turned on the light, helping me change the IV drip. “Your allergic reaction to cat fur is extremely severe. You absolutely cannot come into contact with cats again.” I smiled bitterly and asked: “Nurse, when did the people who brought me in leave?” “Those three girls?” The nurse frowned. “They left after seeing you weren’t in danger.” Her expression was somewhat incredulous: “Weren’t they just passersby?” I forced a smile: “One of them is my girlfriend.” “Well, not for much longer.” I opened my phone to find a message from Rachel on social media. [We went to dinner. If you’re okay, just head home yourself.] Madison had posted something twenty minutes ago. [Old friends reunited—so happy!] The photo showed the four of them, with Rachel looking at the man beside her with tender eyes. She and Connor seemed deeply in love, their gazes filled with barely concealed affection. Looking at that photo, I finally couldn’t hold back my tears. The pain in my heart was suffocating. At this point, I had no reason to keep deceiving myself. Rachel’s true feelings were for Connor. To her, if Connor was willing to come back to her side, I would lose all value.
I suddenly remembered that Rachel often typed on social media pages, but I’d never seen her post anything. A possibility formed in my mind, and I searched for clues in her social media accounts. Rachel’s main account was completely blank, but in her following list, I found an account called “Missing Connor.” My hands trembled as I clicked on it. The IP address matched too. This account had been continuously updated for six years, with thousands upon thousands of posts. It was like accidentally opening Pandora’s box. The contents shocked me speechless. Everything was about Connor—every word filled with suppressed love and obsession. The account started as a record of their relationship, and later became Rachel’s endless longing for Connor. [November 9, 2021: I’m with someone else now. I won’t wait for you.] That was the day—I’d lost count of how many times I’d confessed to her—when Rachel finally relented and agreed to be with me. Turns out I hadn’t moved her at all. That was just the day Connor left the country. [March 10, 2022: I slept with someone else. That’s what you get for dating someone else.] I still remembered Rachel being drunk that night, clinging to me and not letting me leave, finally using sweet words to coax me into sleeping with her. [May 16, 2023: Are you really not planning to come back? I hate you. I’ll never forgive you!] That year, Rachel held me tightly and pulled a ring from her pocket to put on my finger. She looked at me with such tender affection and promised: “Adrian, I’m going to marry you.” I took a deep breath, lacking the courage to continue reading. I scrolled directly to the most recent update, posted not long ago: [I still lost to you. After all these years, I still can’t let go. I’ll only ever love you.] The photo showed the two of them together. They were holding hands tightly, their faces glowing with joy. Tears fell uncontrollably, dropping onto the phone screen and blurring my vision. I was pierced with wounds from the deception and betrayal, my sincere heart bleeding. So throughout our entire three-year relationship, Rachel’s love had never belonged to me for even a moment. Youthful passion burns hot and true, lasting for years. Rachel was willing to overcome every obstacle just to have Connor again. Even though he’d been gone for so many years, abandoning her, she still gave her heart to him willingly. But what about me? I trembled all over as understanding dawned on me. No wonder Rachel never argued with me—she simply didn’t care. No wonder Rachel never cared about my condition—I just wasn’t important to her. No wonder she’d gotten so excited she fell down the stairs—it wasn’t because she was rushing to see me, but because Connor’s sudden return had disturbed her emotions. I barely steadied my thoughts and took screenshots of everything, preserving the evidence. This was for the best. At least I wouldn’t have second thoughts now. If I hadn’t accidentally overheard what she said about me that day, if I hadn’t found her secret social media account, I might have been kept in the dark my entire life, mistakenly believing she’d really given up on her first love. I’d finally seen through Rachel’s dirty heart beneath her gentle exterior, realizing that all those tender moments of intimacy had been fake. Now there was no reason left to continue this farce of a relationship. At that moment, my supervisor called. I took a deep breath, trying not to let anything show. “Adrian, headquarters has an opportunity to work at the Paris branch. I wanted to ask if you’re interested.” “You’d go in directly as a director. It’s quite a rare opportunity.” Mr. Liu was earnest in his persuasion. Actually, this wasn’t the first time a promotion opportunity had come my way. Last time, because I wanted to settle down in this city with Rachel, I’d firmly declined the chance to go to France, even though it had once been a dream I loved. But now, there was no longer any reason worth abandoning my dreams for. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’m willing to work in Paris.” The determination to break up had never been this strong. My survival instincts were screaming at me. Even if my heart was being cut like a knife, I was willing to endure this pain. After hanging up, I decisively booked a flight to Paris for a few days later. After being discharged, I immediately went home and packed all my belongings. During this time, I didn’t run into Rachel. She was probably still busy keeping Connor company. The next day, sitting in the taxi to the airport, I saw an update on Rachel’s secret account from last night: [Seeing each other again, couldn’t help ourselves.] The photo showed her holding hands with Connor, fingers intertwined. I calmly scrolled past, though my heart still ached faintly. Rachel suddenly sent me a text—she must have seen the changes at home. [Did you get discharged yesterday? Where are you?] I didn’t respond. She called countless times, and I hung up on every one. Until one minute before boarding, an unknown number called. I answered. Rachel’s anxious, agitated voice filled my ear: “Adrian, where did you go? When did you get home?” I smiled silently and responded calmly. “Rachel, I know Connor’s back.” “He’s your true love, isn’t he?” I gave a self-mocking smile and ruthlessly exposed her scheme. “Now that the person you couldn’t forget is back, naturally the substitute should exit the stage.” The boarding announcement sounded at just the right moment. I heard Rachel grit her teeth and demand: “Adrian, where the hell are you?”
I didn’t respond and hung up directly. A few hours later, I arrived in Paris, France, half a world away. As soon as I landed, I immediately changed my phone number and went to the company to complete the entry formality. The workload was heavy. I was not only responsible for liaising with French companies but also had a large volume of domestic business. When I first arrived abroad, between the jet lag and the heartbreak, I suffered from insomnia night after night. Even after taking sleep medication and finally falling asleep, I’d dream about when Rachel and I first got together. Eventually I just stopped trying to sleep, letting work fill my life so I wouldn’t dwell alone on those past beautiful moments. After some time, I’d put Rachel behind me. The wounds from the relationship were healed by time. But I still couldn’t avoid hearing news about her. I learned that after I left, Rachel and Connor immediately made their relationship official. When I saw them announce this to friends, I quickly deleted Rachel’s and her friends’ contact information. But not long after, a mutual friend gossiped to me: [Rachel and Connor are about to break up.] I was a bit confused: [Weren’t they doing great together?] [Give me a break. Connor’s been driving Rachel crazy lately. She’s in the rising phase of her career. You used to handle everything in her life perfectly, but Connor just uses her card to eat, drink, and have fun. They fight every two or three days.] [And apparently! Connor was divorced abroad! He wanted to keep it hidden from Rachel, but she found the divorce certificate. Rachel wants to break up but can’t let go. They’re basically torturing each other.] I really hadn’t expected this plot development. After all, they’d seemed to truly love each other deeply. Though it was dramatic, none of it had anything to do with me anymore. My next intersection with Rachel came after I was sent back to the country for my first independent project. I’d anticipated this since our work overlapped. Opening the project file, it was Rachel’s company—Muller Corp. Not only that, but she was in charge of this project. Muller Corp was urgently seeking new investment for a project and was competing with other companies in a bidding war. The situation was intense. Fortunately, everything was communicated online, and I tried to avoid any chance of meeting her in person. I assigned all the offline negotiations to team members. The project concluded perfectly, and everything seemed to be developing in the best direction. Then my assistant Andrew suddenly burst into the office: “Adrian! Muller Corp’s financing failed!”
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