Despite changing my clothes, my fever kept climbing, and by the time I wrapped up work, I was burning up.
The fever brought relentless cramps in my lower abdomen. A cold combined with menstrual pain left me feeling completely miserable. Forcing myself to get home, I collapsed on my bed and slipped into a deep sleep.
In a hazy, half-dream state, I thought I saw Otto come to my bedside, only to turn and leave. I wanted to call out to him, ask him to make me some honey tea. But I was in too much pain to make a sound.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I finally summoned a bit of energy. Despite my head feeling stuffed like it was filled with cotton and a persistent ache in my abdomen, I dragged myself to the bathroom. I paused at the door.
I didn't make a sound.
Otto's nonchalant voice drifted through the gap in the door. It sounded like he was on the phone with someone.
"Yeah, I did it on purpose. I wanted to teach her a lesson," he said, casually. "Otherwise, she takes everything for granted and expects me to handle it all. You know how exhausting that is for me?"
"In a city full of people, who else makes such a fuss?"
Because of the fever, my head throbbed relentlessly. It took me a moment to process his words, but when I did, each one felt like a stab to the heart.
I had always believed Otto was endlessly accommodating to me. It never occurred to me that he harbored such grievances.
Dazed and weak, I nearly stumbled. Holding onto the wall for support, the whole room seemed to spin around me. Through blurred, tear-filled eyes, I heard Otto let out a dismissive chuckle. He said indifferently, "If she's cold, let her be. Worst case, she'll catch a fever."
"Take some medicine, sleep it off, and she'll be fine."
His tone was so breezy, so unconcerned.
I clenched my teeth to keep from sobbing aloud. Devastated and bewildered, I realized my boyfriend had known all along that I would fall ill. But he wasn't worried—because this was part of his plan.
He deliberately let time drag on, watching indifferently as I got sick, just to teach me to be strong, to be independent, to stop relying on him for everything.
I couldn't understand why Otto would do such a thing. If he wanted to refuse my requests, he could have simply said no. I even offered to hire a delivery service to spare him the trouble.
But he agreed, only to use it as an opportunity to give me a "lesson."
I knew I lacked self-sufficiency. My parents spoiled me growing up; they never even let me wash a single dish. So in my first year after college, I was learning all the skills of living from scratch.
My parents were miles away, worried that I might be careless. But I always reassured them, "Don't worry, I have Otto. We'll take care of each other."
And so, they were at ease.
Otto was three years older than me and always seemed more composed. I had told my friends, my parents, even strangers I met by chance, that I had a wonderful boyfriend—smart and a great student.
I never imagined Otto would find me bothersome.
But he clearly had grown tired of me.
When did it start?
I tried to recall, but the more I thought about it, the more tears flowed uncontrollably from my eyes. Countless small incidents rushed back from the depths of my memory.
Perhaps it was the third time I forgot my house keys, and Otto happened to be on a business trip. Though I had called a locksmith and managed to get inside, when I told Otto about it, he seemed slightly annoyed.
"How can you forget every time? Who forgets their keys three times?"
Knowing I was at fault, I didn’t argue. Yet his blunt criticism stung. From then on, I left a spare key at the office.
Or maybe it was when my backpack zipper broke, and I was too busy studying to fix it. Until one day, my wallet went missing.
I cried as I worked to replace my cards but lamented the loss of the photo of us.
"That was a picture from when we first started dating. It's such a shame it's gone," I sighed to Otto.
Without lifting his head, he said, "Well, isn't that your fault for procrastinating? Remember, if something's broken, fix it promptly."
It was a bright, sunny afternoon. Otto and I walked down the street, one behind the other. Our shadows lay close together in the sun, but I felt our hearts were miles apart.
I didn’t understand why he was always criticizing me. Maybe I really wasn’t good enough. But I was trying, honestly.
I didn’t know, and couldn’t have known, that at that moment, my boyfriend was already muttering to himself...
“She’s so troublesome.”
“I’m going to teach her a lesson.”
“She can’t expect me to handle everything.”
