My boyfriend of many years suffers from a severe emotional processing disorder. When a career-ending injury forced me to retire and I was being cyberbullied into a deep depression, I begged him for comfort. He just said I had a weak mentality and was whining over nothing. When the dog we raised together for four years was poisoned and died, he nonchalantly said we could just get another one. Even when my grandmother was in the ICU, on her deathbed, and all she wanted was to hear him promise he would never betray me, he refused, claiming he couldn't say "cringey things." I thought that with enough patience and guidance, his emotions would one day normalize. I endured his coldness every day, using my own pain to try and fill the void in his heart. Until the team's new substitute player, a girl, held a funeral for a withered peach tree in the yard, crying her heart out. For the first time, I saw pity in his eyes. He awkwardly wiped away her tears. "Don't cry. I'll plant you a hundred more, okay?" A video of this was posted online. Even my own fans commented that this new girl, Nina, was his cure, his emotional awakening. He didn't deny it. He just silently liked the post. At that moment, I remembered how earlier that day, my fingernail had split, the pain so sharp it made me tremble and feel nauseous. I remembered his cold, distant expression. And suddenly, I was just so tired. 1. I stared at the men's suit, half-fitted and now abandoned on the sofa of the bridal shop. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Ten minutes ago, Nina had called him in a panic. She said her grandmother, who had dementia, had fallen and was refusing to go to the hospital unless her "grandson-in-law" came to get her. He told me they were childhood sweethearts, and he couldn't refuse to help. And just like that, he abandoned me—me, who had postponed two important meetings to be here with him, trying on wedding attire. He threw a "don't be unreasonable" over his shoulder and rushed out. I had wanted to ask him: why does someone else's sick grandmother deserve him playing the role of a devoted grandson-in-law, while my own grandmother couldn't even get a simple promise from her granddaughter's actual fiancé on her deathbed? But then I saw the photo. The one his haters used to mock me for being delusional, for trying to compete with a childhood love. In it, a younger Griffin Shaw and Nina were holding hands, their hands joined by the old woman as if in a sacred pact. Everything became clear. In the photo, his youthful face was full of tenderness, a clear dimple visible when he smiled. It was a smile I had never seen in the few pictures we had together. Through scattered gossip, I pieced it all together. His emotional detachment had started the year Nina left without a word to care for her ailing grandmother. The reason he was so determined to expand his investments in the esports world wasn't because of me and my team. It was to pave the way for Nina, who loved gaming but had been away from the scene for too long. A lump formed in my throat, making it hard to breathe. "Ma'am, are you… alright?" A store clerk knelt before me, offering a tissue. Only then did I realize tears were streaming down my face. I took the tissue with a quiet thank you. She smiled gently, her eyes shifting to the blood-soaked gauze on my finger. "Would you like me to re-bandage that for you?" The wound had split open again when I tried to stop Griffin from leaving and he'd flung my hand away, slamming it against a cabinet. This morning, he'd said bandaging it would waste time and make them late for the tree's "funeral," so he left first. Afraid of being late and seeming disrespectful, I had hastily wrapped it in gauze and a band-aid and rushed over. When I arrived, he was laughing and chatting with Nina, carefully pruning the tree's branches one by one. The moment he saw me, he shoved a pair of shears into my hand and told me to help. The sharp metal pressed cruelly against my wound, and I dropped them with a cry of pain. He’d frowned, annoyed that I had become so "melodramatic" just because of an injury. Yet he knew perfectly well that an esports player's hands were their livelihood. The very first day Nina joined the team, he had taken out two expensive insurance policies on her hands. I swallowed the bitterness and shook my head. As I turned to leave, the clerk called out to me. "Should I reschedule your fitting?" The wound throbbed. The photos on my phone felt like daggers in my eyes. "No, that won't be necessary." 2. I returned to our apartment that evening to find the living room cluttered with bags and boxes. Seeing me, Griffin explained calmly. "The team dorms are full, and technically your spare room was empty, so I had her move in here." "This room gets the best light and it’s cozy. Nina said she likes it, so I gave it to her. You can just sleep on the enclosed balcony for a few days. After all, we're not married yet, so it wouldn't be appropriate for us to share a room." I stared at him in disbelief. "That bedroom was decorated for me by my grandmother before she passed away! Did you even bother to ask me?" He scowled. "Weren't you looking at new places anyway? You might be moving out soon. If you want the same layout, just hire an interior designer to replicate it." "It's just a room. Let her have it. Don't be so petty." I froze. He was the one who suggested I look for a new place. He'd said it was inconvenient to live in the team apartment after getting engaged, that we'd have more privacy if we moved out. Now that his old flame was back, it had suddenly become my project. I was about to argue when a tearing sound came from the bedroom. Nina ran out, clutching several pieces of thick twine, looking innocent. "Griffin, did I do something wrong? This photo wall…" I rushed into the bedroom. The photos that had been carefully strung up were now torn, ripped violently from the wall. My eyes blazed with fury as I snatched the remnants from Nina's hands. "Who gave you permission to touch this!" She flinched, her eyes instantly welling with tears. "I'm sorry." Griffin stepped in front of her, shielding her, and shoved me back. "What are you yelling about? It's just a bunch of old photos. Is it really that big of a deal?" My voice, when it came out, was a scream of pure despair. "Griffin, these aren't just 'old photos'! These are the last pictures my grandmother left me!" Back then, Grandma thought framing photos was too expensive and troublesome, but she was afraid of losing them in an album. She'd seen somewhere that you could hang them on the wall, so you could see them whenever you missed her, like she was watching over me as I slept. She had painstakingly hung each one, despite her discomfort, only to worry that I wouldn't be able to take them down when I moved. Griffin had grandly promised her not to worry, that he would hire the best professionals to remove them without a single scratch. And now, in his eyes, they were just a bunch of troublesome junk. Seeing the photo of me and Grandma from her last days, torn and ruined, felt like losing her all over again. Tears splashed onto the fragments as I carefully picked them up. Nina grabbed my hand, her voice choked with fake remorse. "I'm so sorry, Willow. I didn't know these were so important to you. I know someone who restores photos, should I ask them for you?" Her hand tightened, crumpling the pieces she held. I fought to control my boiling rage. "No. Let go." Griffin frowned. "She's just trying to help. Give her a chance to—" His words about making amends were cut short by another sharp tear. In the struggle, the photo in my hand ripped again. As I watched the wrinkled scraps flutter to the floor, something inside me snapped. I slapped her, hard, across the face. "What is wrong with you? I told you to leave it alone! What are you trying to do?" Before she could even react, Griffin's hand connected with my cheek. "That's enough! It was an accident! Why are you taking it out on her? Do you think I'm invisible, hitting her right in front of me?" I stared at Griffin, stunned. It was the first time he had ever laid a hand on me, the first time he had ever raised his voice at me. Even when a road-raging driver had cut me off and screamed obscenities at me, he hadn't defended me with the same fire he was using to defend Nina now. A bitter laugh escaped me. So this was the difference between being loved and not being loved. "Griffin, let's break up." 3. His pupils contracted, a flash of regret in his eyes. Just as he reached out to touch the red mark on my cheek, Nina's grandmother stormed into the room. She swung her cane, striking my hand with a crack that felt like bone breaking. "You're the homewrecker! You're the one who came between my granddaughter and her man! How dare you bully them! Get out! Get out of my house!" Griffin quickly pulled the old woman away. "Grandma, you've misunderstood. She's… she's the new maid I hired for you. To take care of you." He coaxed and lied until he managed to get her out of the room. Then he came back and helped me gather the photo scraps. "Willow, I know this is unfair to you. But they're family to me. If I let people walk all over them, how can I expect anyone else to respect them? Please, try to understand." I said nothing, just continued collecting the pieces. "I'll be moved out by tomorrow. I won't get in the way of your happy reunion anymore." He frowned, wanting to explain, but Nina called for him. In the end, he said nothing at all. That evening, I was jolted awake by a rustling sound from the living room. My eyes blinked open to see two familiar silhouettes. It was the two stalker fans who had been the most aggressive. I don't know how, but they had figured out the code to my door and gotten inside. They were walking straight towards the balcony where I was sleeping. A jolt of pure terror shot through me. I grabbed a flowerpot and the stand it was on, hurling them at the intruders, and scrambled towards the spare bedroom. They were right behind me. My hands trembled as I pounded on Griffin's bedroom door. "Griffin! Someone broke in! It's them! Open the door!" I heard movement inside, the sound of someone getting out of bed. He was coming to open the door. But then, I heard Nina's voice, laced with fear. "Griffin, I'm scared. What if they hurt us?" Griffin's footsteps stopped. I didn't have time to question why they were in the same room. Tears streamed down my face as I pushed desperately against the door. Two blades flashed into my vision before the men themselves. In that instant, my legs went weak, and I nearly collapsed. My voice was a choked sob. "They have knives! They have knives, Griffin, please, open the door! Please!" Footsteps approached the door again. I thought I was safe. But the next sound I heard was the click of the lock engaging. I froze. Griffin's heavy voice came from the other side. "Willow, they like you. They won't actually hurt you. But I can't take both of them on by myself. I can't risk Nina's safety. Just stall them for a bit. I'm calling the police right now. Don't be scared!" I stared at the door in utter disbelief. "You bastard! Griffin!" Before I could say more, they grabbed me, yanking me forward. A cold blade pressed against my throat. The metallic tang of blood filled the air. One of them grabbed my hand, sniffing it, his hot, damp breath on my ear. "Got you." A wave of revulsion washed over me. I don't know where the strength came from, but I slammed my head back, ignoring the searing pain as the knife sliced my neck, and ran like a madwoman back to the balcony. They closed in on me, step by step. My heart pounding, I made a split-second decision and leaped from the two-meter-high balcony. Dragging my bleeding leg, I scrambled away until the police found me and I finally collapsed. The next time I woke up, I was in a hospital room. Griffin was by my side, his eyes red, clutching the hand with the IV drip. "You scared me to death! How could you just jump like that?" Before, seeing him so emotional, so worried about me, would have made me ecstatic. But now I knew. It was only because his true cure had returned that he felt generous enough to sprinkle a little bit of that concern on me. The cut on my neck throbbed. The memory of him abandoning me was seared into my brain. I pulled my hand away, my face a mask of indifference. "You must be disappointed I wasn't taken, aren't you?" He flinched. Before he could speak, Nina burst into the room, covered in the stench of rotten eggs and vegetable scraps, her face bruised with handprints. "Willow! I only took your spot because you were injured! Why would you tell your fans I hired those stalkers to hurt you? I swear I didn't!"
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