While my boyfriend was cooking dinner, a female colleague texted him. "Miss you." I thought for a moment, then replied for him. "Come over. She's not home." 1 It was a rare weekend where Liam wasn't working overtime. I had begged him for ages before he finally agreed to make his signature sweet and sour ribs. While he was busy in the kitchen, his phone on the coffee table buzzed. I tapped the screen to wake it, but the display was dark from the angle. I looked closer. He had put on a privacy screen protector. A bad feeling immediately settled in my stomach. I suddenly remembered what a coworker had once told me: "When your partner starts using a privacy screen behind your back, it means they have secrets." That sentence dug into my heart like a thorn. I tried to tell myself it was just a coincidence, but doubt grew like weeds in my mind. Luckily, he hadn't changed his passcode yet. I unlocked the phone. A new WeChat message popped up from a name I didn't recognize. The message was simple and direct. "Miss you." My heart clenched, my eyes locked on those two words. I scrolled up, but the chat history was empty. Deleted. But those two simple words were enough to twist a knife in my gut. I tried to calm down, accidentally knocking over a glass of water on the table. Liam poked his head out of the kitchen, spatula in hand. "What happened?" I forced a smile, slipping his phone into my pocket. "Nothing. Just wanted to see how it's going." "Not fast enough," he complained, frowning. "Getting the caramelization right is a pain. Next time, let's just order takeout." I froze for a second, then nodded. "Okay." Liam seemed to have forgotten. I'm from the North; I don't have a sweet tooth. The person who loves sweet and sour ribs is him. When we first bought this house, he pointed to the kitchen, his eyes shining with confidence and excitement. "This is my domain! No entry without my permission!" Every weekend, he would stay in, tinkering in the kitchen with recipes tailored just for me. Back then, he loved this home. He loved creating memories with me. The phone in my pocket felt like it weighed a ton, burning against my leg. Once my heart rate settled, I decided to reply for him. "Come over. She's not home." I was curious who she was. And I was curious how Liam would react. Not long after, the doorbell rang, sharp and piercing. I quickly changed my clothes and walked to the door. My hand hesitated on the cold metal handle for a moment before I pulled it open. The person outside clearly paused. The excitement on her face froze the moment she saw me. I looked her over. From her age to her face to her figure, I couldn't help comparing every detail to myself. The conclusion was brutal—she beat me in every category. "You're Chloe, right?" "You know me?" "Liam mentioned you." The thought that my name might be a topic of their amusement made my disappointment in Liam deepen. She seemed to remember something, reaching into her bag to pull out a familiar Tupperware container. "I came to return this." "Last time Liam brought ribs to the office, my blood sugar dropped suddenly, so he let me have them." Looking at her clutching the container Liam and I had bought together at Target, I remembered his impatience this morning when I asked him to cook. My anger ignited instantly. I deliberately shouted toward the kitchen, "Honey, someone's here for you!" Liam walked out, wiping his hands, looking confused. When he saw her, his face went blank. I watched them closely. There wasn't the panic or guilt I expected. "What are you doing here?" Liam asked, puzzled. "I was in the neighborhood and remembered I still had your container, so I texted you." "Texted me?" Liam suddenly realized something, glancing back at me before his face went cold. "Just leave the container." But she didn't leave immediately. She stood in the doorway, staring straight at me. "Miss Chloe, aren't you going to invite me in?" I let out a cold laugh, stepping aside but keeping my eyes on Liam. "Well? Aren't you going to invite her in? Perfect timing, we made sweet and sour ribs again today." I emphasized "sweet and sour ribs." Liam's expression shifted. "Stop it." Sensing Liam's displeasure, she slowly replied. "Oh, I just remembered I have plans nearby. I got so excited I forgot. I'll come hang out next time." I didn't say another word, just watched coldly as Liam walked her out. When he came back, his face was dark enough to drip ink. "What, couldn't bear to let her go?" I leaned against the doorframe, mocking him. Liam glared at me angrily. "Don't talk nonsense. She's just a colleague." I wasn't letting him off that easy. "Colleague? Then what does 'Miss you' mean?" Liam looked exhausted. "We've been working on a project together. High pressure. We just joke around to relieve stress." I didn't believe a word of his bullshit. We had a huge fight. Since then, things between us have been incredibly tense. I started wondering if I was too impulsive, but then I'd remember how weak his excuse was. Living like this was suffocating. 2 I told my best friend, Jasmine, about my suspicions. She laughed for a solid minute. After my parents died in an accident, she and Liam became the most important people in my world. "You're crazy," she said. "Back in college, Liam bought boba for our entire dorm for a whole semester just to chase you. Remember when campus didn't have a KFC? He took a bus for over an hour to bring it back for you, and he wouldn't even eat a single fry because he wanted you to have them all." I laughed bitterly. "Really? I forgot." Jasmine talked excitedly about Liam's courtship back in the day, but it felt so distant to me. Yeah, it's been 10 years. I'm turning 28 in two months. Before she left, Jasmine gave me some serious advice. "Chloe, have a good talk with Liam. Set a date for the wedding soon." "Don't let things drag on and get messy." Neither of us wanted to dig deeper. The sunk cost of a ten-year relationship was something I couldn't afford to lose. That night, I texted Liam a photo of myself wearing black silk stockings. In the past, he would've replied instantly with something cheeky like, "Hubby is coming home right now, just wait a bit longer." But today, he replied three hours later: "Working overtime." I closed WeChat and opened Discord. I searched for his status. "Online - Mobile." He wasn't working. By the time I realized it, I had chewed my nails down to the quick. After my parents died, I developed a habit of biting my nails when anxious. Liam used to feel bad for me, saying he'd help me quit. He even painted bitter nail polish on with me. But now... A wave of irritation hit me. I almost didn't reply, but I remembered Jasmine's words. I typed again. "It's okay. I'll wait up for you." This time, he didn't reply at all. 3 I sat in the most visible spot in the living room. I had changed out of the tight stockings into loose pajamas, but I couldn't hide my anxiety. The clock on the wall showed 1:00 AM. I held the photo album Liam made for me in college, lost in thought. When exactly did we go from inseparable lovers to roommates who barely saw each other? "Door unlocked. Welcome home." The mechanical voice of the smart lock broke the silence and sparked a faint hope in my chest. I looked up sharply, trying to catch his figure in the dim light. Liam stood in the doorway for a long time before stepping inside. But the moment our eyes met, he looked away. That instant evasion hurt more than any words could. It made me feel a despair I'd never known. He stood in the entryway and suddenly snapped. "Can you stop leaving your shoes everywhere?" I froze, about to go tidy them, but he kicked my heels aside without mercy. There was a time when he would neatly arrange my shoes, charge my electric toothbrush, and pack away my seasonal clothes before I even thought of it. Now, those memories felt like a different life. I watched Liam walk out of the kitchen with a glass of water, identical to the one in front of me. Except his was brand new. He sat at the dining table and poured himself a drink. I stared at the glass, remembering our old habit of sharing one. I felt a sudden wave of grievance. "Why don't you use the same cup as me anymore?" "No reason." He was impatient, turning slightly to scroll on his phone with his back to me. I didn't want the cold war to continue. I gathered my courage and hugged him from behind. "What are you doing!" He shook me off like I was a virus. I stared at the red mark on my wrist, my heart shattering. "Today is our 10th anniversary." My voice trembled with despair and pleading. Liam froze. A flash of guilt crossed his eyes. But it only lasted a few seconds before cold indifference replaced it. "Send me a link for whatever gift you want. I'll buy it tomorrow." His tone was flat, like he was discussing a business transaction. "Tomorrow it won't matter anymore." I looked up at him, trying to use the cuteness he used to love. He once said he loved when I puffed my cheeks out when I was mad, like a pufferfish. But now, his eyes were colder than ice, looking at me like a stranger. "Chloe." He said my full name. My heart dropped. Using my full name meant the invisible wall between us just got thicker. "Stop it." Two words. Freezing cold. "We're 28, not kids. Life isn't built on anniversaries." My heart contracted painfully. The man in front of me—suit-clad, mature, steady—was nothing like the boy in the white shirt smiling in the sun. I stared at him, searching for a trace of the past, but found only distance. Finally, I gave up arguing. I whispered, "Yeah, I'm 28." He seemed to guess what I was going to say and cut me off. "You know my career is in a weird spot right now. I don't want to get married yet..." Liam was about to say more, but his phone rang at the worst possible moment. He glanced at me and quickly silenced it. My heart sank, but I forced myself to stay calm, even adding a hint of pleading to my voice. "Then... when do you want to get married?" 4 He didn't give me a straight answer. And he didn't tell me to keep waiting. Instead— "If being with me makes you feel wronged, then..." "Then break up with you? So I'm the bad guy now?" The words tumbled out, and we both froze. Finally, Liam broke the silence. "I don't deserve you." I exploded. The emotions I'd been suppressing all night peaked. "Now you don't deserve me? When you were chasing me with marching bands and banners, you didn't think that?" Liam's face turned livid. His lips moved like he wanted to speak, but he gave up. Just like our relationship—he didn't even want to try to save it. I watched him walk toward the guest bedroom with a dark face, saying nothing. Until he twisted the handle and couldn't open the door. He turned back and yelled at me. "Chloe! Can you stop causing drama! Open the door!" I kept my face cold, suppressing the disappointment churning inside me. "I told you to change that lock ages ago. The balcony window was open today, the wind slammed it shut. I can't open it either." He instinctively looked toward the balcony, as if to verify my story. The atmosphere grew heavier, the air suffocating. Until he broke the silence again. "Then I'll go to a hotel." My rationality snapped. I stood up abruptly, my voice sharp. "What, this huge house isn't big enough for you? Or are you just done pretending?" Liam's face looked ugly. Shock flashed in his eyes. He had never seen me lose control like this. He was speechless. "If anyone's going to a hotel, it should be me. You bought this house. I can't kick you out." I kept shouting, as if making him uncomfortable would make me feel better. Or maybe, deep down, I hoped that making a scene would force him to care about my feelings again. "Chloe, you're always like this. You never consider how others feel when you speak or act." "What do you mean?" I widened my eyes like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "What do I mean? You invited my colleague over last week on purpose. Did you think about how awkward it would be for me at work?" "Awkward? How so? She sent you a text saying 'Miss you,' and I'm not allowed to bring it up?" "I don't want to explain anymore. Think what you want." He shut down completely, ignoring my anger and anxiety. He turned and walked toward the door without looking back. At the threshold, he stopped, but didn't turn around. "Chloe, if you really think we can't go on, let's just let it go." I stiffened my neck and didn't answer. My chest felt like it was going to explode. At that moment, I knew for sure. Liam didn't love me anymore.
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