At the party, my girlfriend was attentively picking fish bones for her male best friend and ex-boyfriend, and even carefully feeding him pieces of fish.
The crowd gasped and a group of people turned to look at me.
I smiled and said, "How about I move the civil affairs bureau over for you two?"
***
Two weeks ago, it was my girlfriend's male best friend, Barry Green's birthday. Ava Yukio and Barry had spent the night at the mountain top, enjoying the beautiful sunrise together.
I called her to confront her, but she responded with a reproachful look, accusing me of not believing her and insisting that it was just a gathering of friends, not just the two of them.
As a result, we entered a week-long cold war.
Today, my girlfriend Ava sent me a picture of a restaurant—a five-star one—saying it was for my birthday celebration.
I understood that this was her olive branch for reconciliation.
Whenever we got into an argument or a cold war, I was always the first to break the silence and apologize to her.
And after each reconciliation, she would give me a small gift or show me some affection, and with that, I would easily forget the past grievances and rekindle my deep feelings for her.
This pattern had repeated itself over the years.
She would deal me a blow, then sweeten the deal, and I would cast aside all resentment and return to her.
Our relationship's warmth and coldness depended entirely on her whims.
Perhaps I was just too weak, always easily forgetting the pain of the past.
However, today, when I saw that picture of the restaurant reservation, I didn't feel the usual excitement.
In the past, just her remembering my birthday would have been enough to make me happy for an afternoon, but this time, I felt nothing.
Because every year, it was me who had to remind her. Only then would she remember to prepare a gift for me.
This year, it seemed I had forgotten, but she remembered that.
I replied, "Okay."
I threw my phone aside and continued to focus on my work, devoid of the sweet thrill I used to have.
After work, I received her call, "You go ahead. I'll come to the restaurant later. Bye."
I arrived at the restaurant in advance.
The reservation was set for eight, and I got there by seven.
However, when eight o'clock struck, my girlfriend still hadn't shown up.
I tried to contact her, but my calls went unanswered and my messages dropped into an abyss.
At eight-thirty, the waiter reminded me if I wanted to have the meal.
I nodded and enjoyed my food alone.
After finishing, I left the restaurant nonchalantly.
It was then that I unintentionally scrolled through Barry's Moments.
He had posted, "Cooking steak with the one I love, feeling great."
Beside him was my girlfriend's lovely silhouette.
The moment I saw that picture, I didn't feel the slightest hint of sadness.
Instead, I was unexpectedly calm.
I had already seen through everything.
Every time was like this, always related to Barry.
But curiously, I felt no ripple in my heart.
