Before I could finish, my mother cut me off.
"If it's not a temper, then what is it? You've been together for seven years, not seven months. Don’t act impulsively."
"Whatever it is, James' father's birthday is coming up. Don't be petty. Come back with him, and don't upset his family."
Before I could respond, she hung up.
I ran my hand over my forehead, frustrated. The situation between James and me was much more complicated than I had imagined.
After all these years, James' parents had treated me like their own daughter. They had always been kind and loving towards me.
Now, with his father's birthday approaching, ignoring it seemed impossible. After much thought, I decided I needed to tell them about the breakup in person.
When I arrived back in Springfield, I guessed my mother must have called James, because soon after, I received a message from him saying he would pick me up.
But when I got off the high-speed train, James wasn’t there. Instead, I received a message from Ella.
It was a selfie of her and James, taken in a hotel. The caption read: "It’s great, I can recharge after a long day of work."
And on her ring finger, clearly visible, was the couple's ring that James and I had picked out together.
I stared at the phone, numb. Another message came through.
— You don’t have a job. James is a college teacher. He’s not suitable for someone like you.
— You should have stayed away from him—someone who doesn’t want to make progress.
— Lila, do you know how much James loves me? He told me that if he could, he’d want to be with me from a distance forever.
— He said, body and soul, that I am the woman who fits him best.
I stared at those boastful and taunting words on my screen. A sick laugh escaped me.
Ella thought her words would hurt me, but all I felt was disgust.
And pity.
How could two college professors—two people who seemed so well-matched—descend into something so sordid?
Almost ten minutes after receiving Ella's message, I finally saw James.
He arrived late, offering an apology: "Sorry, I got held up."
I looked at him, his familiar face now a mask of hypocrisy, and the lies he spoke made my stomach churn with disgust.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I simply said, cold and detached, "Let's go."
James drove to the restaurant, and I stared out of the window, not saying a word the entire way.
When we arrived at the restaurant, I pointed to the copy shop across the street. "You go in first. I need to print something."
James looked at me, his confusion obvious. "What’s so urgent that you can’t wait?"
I stared at his face—so familiar, yet now so foreign—and replied firmly, "Yes, it’s very important."
I entered the private room where my parents and James' parents were already chatting, discussing our engagement and marriage.
I handed over the gift I had prepared beforehand. "Uncle, happy birthday."
"Thank you, Lila," James' father said warmly. "You must be tired from the journey. Sit down."
After I took my seat, James' parents began asking about my life at school and my plans for the future.
Before I could answer, James interrupted. "Let’s not talk about work today. Let’s not put any pressure on Lila."
His words seemed protective, and everyone smiled, clearly pleased. The conversation shifted smoothly to the topic of marriage.
"What plans does Lila have for marriage?"
I turned to James, his hopeful gaze fixed on me. I took a deep breath and, without hesitation, said, "He and I won’t be getting married."
