An hour before our flight, my fiancé, Mason, abruptly abandoned me. He chose instead to take his childhood sweetheart, Seraphina, to celebrate Valentine’s Day. They strolled hand-in-hand, taking countless photos. The omnipresent commentary, a constant stream of scrolling text only I could see, offered its usual reassurances: [This man’s love is just awkward and proud, darling. If you just cling to him, you’ll see his heart is always only for you.] [Ten years you’ve been together, does this one time really matter? He’s just a child, waiting for you to coax him.] [He’s just putting on a show for the supporting character; he’s thinking of you every single second.] I was utterly sick of hearing those words. I didn’t cry, didn’t make a scene, and unlike usual, I didn't frantically chase after him. Instead, I quietly slipped off my engagement ring and accepted my company’s assignment, resolutely embarking on a ten-year journey abroad. 1 The airport entrance was bitterly cold. I stood in the biting wind for nearly two hours, but Mason’s car never appeared. He had told me he’d finish work early today, meet me, and we’d fly to London together. On Valentine's night, my favorite singer was holding a concert there. Going to a beloved concert with the person I loved most had always been my dream. I’d begged Mason for years, and finally, last month, he agreed. I was so thrilled I couldn’t sleep for nights, spending a month planning every detail of the trip. But now, my overflowing joy was slowly turning into anxiety. He hadn't arrived yet; could something have happened on the road? I immediately called him to check. Usually, I wouldn't call him lightly, to avoid disturbing his work. Thankfully, he answered quickly. “Mason, where are you? Is there traffic?” A calm, distant male voice responded after two seconds of silence: “I’m in the departure lounge. Boarding in five minutes.” My mind went blank for a moment. I instinctively apologized, “I’m so sorry, I must have misread the time! I’ll be right there!” He said flatly, “You didn’t misread it. I changed the time.” I was momentarily stunned. The next second, I heard him say, “Seraphina said she didn't want to spend Valentine's Day alone, so I’m taking her to the concert. It’s not safe for you to travel alone, so don’t go. Just stay home.” I was instantly speechless, feeling as if an invisible hand had gripped my throat, making it impossible to breathe. “It’s Seraphina again. That New Year’s Eve, you also said she didn’t want to be alone and left me home to be with her. Have you forgotten, I’m your fiancée?” A sigh came from his end. “Yes, you’re my fiancée. You already have me, but Seraphina has nothing. At least on Valentine’s Day, I can’t let her be lonely.” I sniffled, but my nose was still burning and stinging. I sneezed three times in quick succession. “Mason, I’m cold.” My expectations and pride were slowly shattering in his silence, yet I wouldn’t give up. “If you don’t come out, I won’t go back. I’ll wait for you.” I quickly hung up, turned off my phone, and hunched my shoulders, waiting quietly in the cold wind. This was my infallible trick. In the past, the moment Mason heard me sneeze, he would drop everything and rush to me, personally taking me to the clinic for a check-up, only relaxing once he was sure it was nothing serious. If I refused to take my medicine, he’d become agitated, coaxing me in every possible way until I swallowed it. Even when we were in different places, he’d insist I keep video calls open, even when sleeping, saying he wanted to see me every second, or he wouldn’t be at ease. Even if the whole world called me a desperate doormat, I stubbornly believed – he was simply bad at expressing love, not that he didn't love me. Now, I clenched my fists, nervously watching the exit, thinking I’d see him any second. But ten minutes later, I saw his assistant rushing towards me. “Ms. Willow, Mr. Caldwell has already boarded. He asked me to take you home.” The cold wind whistled, messing up my carefully styled bangs. The airport’s large window reflected my disheveled, tear-streaked face. My vision blurred for a moment, then cleared, and I saw those familiar scrolling messages. [Don’t be sad, sweetie, Mason is just a stubborn, soft-hearted tsundere! Don’t overthink it, hurry and chase him, don’t let them have a moment alone!] [Scorpio men are just like that, honestly, he’s secretly hoping you’ll chase him! Every time you show up, he’ll be grinning to himself!] [Seraphina is just a flavor enhancer for your relationship, she means nothing! Be a good girl, rush and chase him!] My eyelids drooped. For the first time, I asked them, “Why am I always the one getting hurt? Why am I always the one apologizing, always the one chasing him?” My tears were hot and salty, streaming down my face. The messages grew sparser, uniformly urging me to understand Mason. I looked at my lonely shadow on the ground and let out a self-mocking laugh. “Maybe he does love me, but I’m tired of digging for it.” With that, I dialed my boss. “Boss, I’ve changed my mind. I’m willing to accept the assignment. Ten years abroad.” 2 I ran my fingers over the wave-patterned ring on my ring finger. Mason had designed it himself; mine was waves, his was a little fish. Back then, I pestered him for ages, asking why he designed it that way. He was a man of few words, yet he spoke of his design inspiration like a lover’s confession. “A fish can’t leave water, just like you and me.” At that time, I truly believed I was the most loved woman in his heart. Later, Seraphina returned. She jokingly said she liked Mason’s ring, asked for it, and never gave it back. As a result, the media mistakenly thought Mason and I had already broken up; why else would I take off my engagement ring? I mentioned it to Mason, asking him to get the ring back. He told me not to always fuss over such trivial things. But when the rings first came out, he couldn’t wait to wear his in front of the media 24/7. The scrolling messages urged me to ask him again, and I reassured myself that perhaps he was too busy with work and simply forgot about the ring. All I needed to do was bring it up one more time. But now, I was suddenly exhausted. Thinking of this, I took off the ring and resolutely left the house. While waiting at the airport, a chat history popped up from a five-person group chat on my phone. It was Mason’s friends. Years ago, in my pursuit of Mason, I used a little trick to buy one of his friend’s accounts and lurked in this group, silently reading their conversations. Because Mason and that friend had fallen out, they hadn’t been in touch for years, so my secret was never revealed. Even now, no one knew I was in the group. They posted a few photos of me going through security at the airport, tagging Mason. [Mr. Caldwell, your little wife is chasing you a thousand miles again. Be mentally prepared!] [I said Willow wouldn’t last a day before chasing him. See? It’s only been an hour, and she’s already tailing him like a puppy.] [Willow doesn’t compare to Seraphina in family background or looks. I really don't know what kind of magic she used to capture our Mason’s heart.] It wasn’t until I landed that I saw Mason’s recent reply. [Can’t shake her off. Just have to make do.] I let out a bitter laugh. I really wanted to reply: Congratulations, you’ve successfully shaken me off. 3 At the airport exit, I saw Mason’s assistant waving at me. “Ms. Willow, Mr. Caldwell asked me to take you to a hotel. He said not to wander off, just wait for him there.” The scrolling messages erupted. [See? See? Mason truly loves you! Even when he’s with the supporting character, his heart is still here! Sweetie, don’t be difficult anymore.] [His comment in the group is just a typical straight man's flaw, don’t mind it.] Last Valentine’s Day, the messages had reassured me the same way. Back then, I wanted to see snow in Reykjavík. Mason frowned and refused, saying he hated snow. But before, when I said I wanted to see snow, he would immediately book flights and hotels, ready to take me anytime. I comforted myself, thinking perhaps he really did dislike the cold. So, I meticulously planned a warm vacation to Maui, only to see him suddenly grab his luggage and head out. He told me, very indifferently, “Seraphina is alone in Reykjavík. I’m worried.” At the time, I was almost in tears. I chased after him, feeling wronged, clutching his arm like a protective, yet harmless, puppy, determined not to let him have any time alone with Seraphina. Because they had been childhood sweethearts. Everyone said that if Seraphina hadn’t rejected him, it would never have been my turn. I felt threatened, sinking into endless insecurity. Just as I was about to give up, guided by the messages, I discovered an album Mason had hidden. That album contained photos of us from when we first met to when we fell in love, and a secret I had never known. During the time my parents passed away, it was Mason who had secretly paid off their debts. To avoid burdening me, he had even deliberately had others tell me my parents had cleared the debts themselves. This album chronicled his subtle yet profound affection for me, proving that this love wasn’t just something I had shamelessly chased. Therefore, I stubbornly followed him to Reykjavík, desperately guarding our love. Looking back now, I belatedly understood. The man who used to slow his steps to accommodate me had, at some point, gradually forgotten me. The two of them, Mason and Seraphina, in tacit understanding, ignored me, chatting and laughing with each other, leading many passersby to mistake me for the other woman. Mason never spoke up to clarify, and even when I deliberately took his hand to assert my claim, he shook it off. My leg was stuck in the snow, unable to move, and I was terrified. But after hearing my cry, he only glanced back before carrying the complaining Seraphina, who claimed her leg hurt, back to the hotel. If someone hadn't passed by and rescued me, I probably would have frozen to death that night. Afterward, I cried, asking him if he truly cared about me. He stood with his back to me, not holding my hand, not turning around. Even his hair seemed to exude indifference. “Only a lovesick fool like you would ask such a childish question.” That night, I should have given up entirely. But the messages repeatedly told me that Mason was testing my love for him, holding back his affection because he feared I would leave. Unwilling to lose him, I chose to believe the messages. But what was the result? He still chose to send me alone to a hotel, to wait obediently for him to come home, rather than be with me, choosing Seraphina instead. Thinking of this, I couldn’t help but smile bitterly, my eyes regaining their resolute determination. I gently pushed away the assistant’s hand. “No need. The company has arranged accommodation for me.” Coincidentally, the place I was going to spend ten years was London. The assistant frowned, trying to persuade me. “Ms. Willow, why are you doing this? We all know you can’t leave Mr. Caldwell, and we know you’ll eventually go to coax him. He’s offering you an olive branch now, so just take it. Being so stubborn, you might genuinely lose him.” I smiled faintly. “I don’t want him anymore. How can I lose what I don’t want?” In the assistant’s astonished gaze, I resolutely turned and walked away. Five minutes later, Mason called. How rare. He actually called me first. After Seraphina came back, he had never initiated a call to me. I felt annoyed and cut him off without answering. He called again. The ringing sounded restless and anxious. I simply turned off my phone. Unexpectedly, a few minutes later, several cars abruptly forced my taxi to a stop. The driver, scared by the scene, refused to take me further, kicked me out, and sped off. The assistant opened a car door, his tone firm. “Ms. Willow, please don’t make things difficult for us.” I sneered, “Mason is worried I’ll disrupt his date, isn’t he? Tell him his worry is unnecessary; I won’t bother him again.” The assistant replied, “We don’t know what Mr. Caldwell is thinking, but he wants you to wait for him at the hotel, so we absolutely cannot let you go anywhere else.” With that, two men got out, making to force me into the car. Just then, a sharp horn blared closer. A sleek, lustrous black Bentley forced the men back and stopped in front of me. The car door opened, and a tall, distinguished figure stepped out, holding the door for me. Sebastian still had that refined, gentlemanly air he’d always possessed, like a warm ray of light that illuminated everything around him with a gentle smile. He looked at me, extending a hand. “Coming to London and not telling me? You’re being a stranger.” I didn’t have time to think too much. I immediately took the escape he offered, slipped into his car, and left those men behind.
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