When Arianne Winston once again chose the intern with nothing more than a scraped elbow after the car accident, leaving me, the one actually injured, completely unattended, something inside me finally shifted.
At that moment, I realized I didn't love her as much anymore.
A little later, I saw the intern flaunting a cheek-to-cheek selfie on her Instagram.
[Meeting you is only the beginning of the story.]
This time, I didn't panic, tremble, or boil with anger.
Instead, I calmly gave the post a like and even commented:
[Next time, take her right profile. She looks even prettier from that side.]
After that, I opened a movie I had saved for ages and watched it with genuine interest.
Right before bed, I noticed dozens of missed calls and texts on my phone.
[Hudson is still young and playful. Don’t take it to heart. I’ll make it up to you for your birthday when I get back tomorrow.]
I didn't reply.
I was still savoring the male lead’s carefree line from the film:
[The world is so big. I want to see it too.]
——
The next day, Arianne didn't keep her promise. She didn't come home to celebrate or make up for my birthday.
At this point, I was used to it. Disappointment barely registered anymore.
In fact, when I arrived at the office that morning, I walked straight to HR and handed in my resignation.
Afterward, I booked a plane ticket for an overseas flight scheduled for the following week.
I had always been impulsive and decisive, except when it came to love.
There, I hesitated, second-guessed, and never managed to cleanly let go.
One week later would be our sixth anniversary.
A fitting end, I thought.
Neat and complete.
On the third night, Arianne staggered home drunk. She wobbled in her heels in the entryway for a long moment, clearly waiting for me to come take her bag and bring her slippers, just as I always did.
But I didn't move and just sat on the sofa, typing out travel plans on my laptop.
She looked over at me, shaking her head with a small, amused scoff as she kicked off her heels.
“Still sulking? You’ve been ignoring my messages all day.”
She waved a hand like she was brushing the whole thing aside and stepped farther into the room.
“Alright, alright. See? I’m home now, aren’t I?” She pressed her fingers to her temple with a dramatic groan. “My head is pounding. Go make me that soup you always make when I drink too much.”
She was constantly stuck at work dinners and hated taking anything for her liver. Once, I even tracked down an old-school herbalist for a recipe for a hangover broth. And every time she came home drunk, I made sure there was a warm bowl waiting for her.
Still thinking about where my second stop abroad should be, I didn't even look up.
“There are some hangover pills on the nightstand. Take one if you feel that bad.”
The living room fell quiet.
Only after a long moment did I lift my head.
Arianne’s expression darkened.
“Clyde, even if you’re upset, there’s a line. Hudson is just a kid trying to get by in this city. I’m the only one he can rely on. Can’t you stop being jealous of him?”
She had forgotten that Hudson was only three years younger than me.
I pointed to my gauze-wrapped foot.
“I’m not angry, and I’m not jealous. My foot was injured in the accident, remember? I can’t stand for long. If you really want the soup, call Hudson over. I’ll teach him the recipe.”
She stared at me, completely thrown. There was a time when the name Hudson alone was enough to ignite me. Now I was calmly offering to have him come over and cook her hangover soup.
“Is your foot alright?” she asked, tone softening. “Hudson was hurt that day. He said the sight of blood made him dizzy, that he might pass out. I wanted to take him to the hospital first and then come back…”
My gaze cut her off, and instantly, words died in her throat.
Hudson’s so-called injury was nothing more than a scrape on his right hand. A big bandage covered it. Her excuse for coming back later was nothing but a joke.
Right then, Arianne cleared her throat awkwardly and pulled a plastic bag from her purse.
“You like crab, right? I picked some up for you.”
I kept my tone neutral. “The doctor said seafood causes inflammation. I’m supposed to avoid it.”
That shut her down fast. Someone who’d always held the upper hand in our relationship suddenly found herself blocked at every turn, and her patience snapped.
“Unbelievable. I try to do something nice, and you just blow it up in my face.”
She hurled the plastic bag straight into the trash and stormed into the bathroom.
