At my best friend’s wedding, I was lucky enough to catch the bouquet. Everyone looked on expectantly at me and Henry, my boyfriend of eight years. My friend, Maya, beamed, playfully teasing, “Congratulations! So, when’s the big day for you two?” I replied, “Next month.” To my surprise, Henry’s face instantly darkened. Right there, in front of everyone, he snapped at me, “Are you that desperate to get married? The more you push, the less I want to marry you.” He didn't know the man I planned to marry wasn't him. 1 The atmosphere at the wedding turned awkward because of Henry’s words. Maya, my best friend, looked ready to lash out on my behalf, but I stopped her. “Don’t let it get to you. Today’s your wedding, it’s not worth getting upset over.” Her husband, Michael, quickly stepped in, calming her simmering anger. Once she was settled, I pulled Henry aside. I didn’t want our drama to overshadow Maya’s special day. Henry was still fuming. “You can relax,” I explained, “what I said earlier was just polite conversation, not serious.” His expression softened slightly, but he still couldn’t resist a barbed comment. “I think you should learn from Elara Vance. Stop being so obsessed with romance.” Elara Vance was a brilliant, newly hired graduate from overseas at his company. This wasn't the first time Henry had brought her up to me. Initially, when he talked about Elara, it was usually to complain about her strong personality, calling her aloof. But gradually, his comments had shifted to praise. He’d often say, “Elara is like a modern-day Joan of Arc, even more capable than most men.” A knot tightened in my stomach. I remembered replying to him then, “How capable?” He’d rolled his eyes at me. “More capable than a housewife like you, anyway.” My body stiffened. He knew perfectly well that the only reason I stayed home was because of my health. I had a congenital heart condition. In my younger years, this condition often led to emergencies. The most serious time, I almost died. Out of fear for my safety, Henry stopped me from working. I remembered him holding me tenderly then, promising he’d take care of me, telling me to rest at home and wait for him. I loved him, and I trusted him. But I never imagined that eight years into our relationship, his promise to “take care of me” would become a knife he’d twist into my heart. At that moment, a soft melody began to play at the wedding. In the romantic atmosphere, I felt a sudden daze wash over me. Henry hadn't realized how hurtful his words were. Or perhaps he had, but he didn't care. He even seemed proud of himself for leaving me speechless. He looked satisfied to see me discomfited. Just then, his phone rang. Elara’s calm, confident voice came from the other end. “Don’t stay up late tonight. You have a business trip tomorrow.” “Understood,” Henry replied, his tone gentle. Elara chuckled softly. “Want some unagi bowl? I can bring it over.” “Sure, thanks, Chef Elara.” Henry’s eyes crinkled with a smile, his joy undeniable. “Hmph, stop being such a tease,” Elara playfully chided. After hanging up, Henry’s smile lingered, the earlier coldness from our argument completely gone. Their familiarity was so evident; I felt utterly shut out of their world. At that moment, Maya, arm in arm with her husband, approached us. She continued to jab at Henry. “Henry, you better not do anything to hurt Serena, or I swear, I’ll never forgive you.” Henry first glanced at me, then let out an annoyed scoff. “My relationship with her is none of anyone else’s business.” Maya’s temper flared again. Michael and I quickly intervened, calming her down. With our persuasion, she reluctantly allowed Michael to lead her away. In the corner of the grand hall, only Henry and I remained. Henry grumbled, “You should spend less time with her. She’s a total shrew.” I turned to him, enunciating each word carefully. “A shrew? In your eyes, who isn’t a shrew? Even Elara Vance, whom you admire so much now, you used to call her a shrew.” Henry choked on his words. He wanted to argue, but I didn't give him a chance, simply walking away. As the wedding neared its end, Maya pulled me aside, her face red from crying. She said we had planned to have our weddings together, but she didn’t expect me to break that promise. I smiled, gently patting her shoulder. I told her, “It’s okay. Seeing you happy today makes me happy.” But Maya insisted, “No, I know you. You’re not happy at all today. You should break up with him.” 2 No sooner had she spoken than Henry appeared. He looked at us suspiciously. “Break up what?” Maya shot him a glare and turned her head away. But he was persistent, a hint of anxiety even in his voice. “Serena, tell me.” “Can’t you tell? My best friend can’t bear to part with me.” The lie rolled off my tongue effortlessly. He saw no change in my expression and secretly breathed a sigh of relief. In an instant, he reverted to his usual haughty self. “It’s getting late. We need to go home.” I nodded. After saying goodbye to Maya, I got into Henry’s car. We didn't exchange a single word the entire way. He seemed a little surprised by my silence, yet satisfied that I was finally “behaving” and not bothering him. When we got home, Henry even remembered to praise me. “You should always be this quiet, instead of rambling on the moment you get in the car.” But his praise quickly turned into a lecture. “If you had something of your own to do, you wouldn’t always be clinging to me.” He sighed. “You never go out and socialize; you’re completely out of touch with society. You even graduated from a prestigious university. You’re truly wasting your potential.” I clutched the hem of my dress. I knew. Even without Henry telling me these things, I knew. I was more anxious than he was. Just then, I received a message from Maya. “I have good news for you. We’ve found a matching heart donor.” The good news hit me like a revelation, snapping me awake. Henry, mistaking my reaction for being affected by his words, felt a pang of regret. But he continued nonetheless. “I can’t always support you, Serena. If one day we break up, what will you do?” I was no longer listening to him. I rushed into the bedroom, continuing my conversation with Maya about the heart donor. Henry remained in the living room, still lecturing. “I’m not saying I’ll abandon you. I just hope you can have something of your own, Serena. I want you to be more independent.” I didn’t respond. Seeing my silence, he sighed, then turned and went into the bathroom to shower. That afternoon, Henry suddenly called me. “Serena, I left a file at home. Can you bring it to the office for me?” I was about to ask him where the file was when he abruptly hung up. I sighed and started searching the house. I finally found the file in his study. Just as I was about to grab the file and leave, I accidentally bumped into a hanging bag. The bag fell to the floor, scattering its contents, revealing a necklace gift box. I opened the box. It was empty. I suddenly remembered something and quickly checked my social media. Finally, I saw the necklace in a post by Elara Vance. It was accompanied by a picture: a man’s large hand helping her put on the necklace. I hadn’t paid much attention to the post before, so I hadn’t noticed the subtle details. Now, looking closely, I saw a mole on the inside of the man’s index finger. Henry had a mole in the same spot on his hand. At that point, what more was there to understand? The necklace was a Givenchy, worth over two hundred thousand dollars. How could a man as frugal as he was usually, afford such an expensive gift? I let out a bitter laugh. 3 I remembered my birthday last year. Not only did he forget, but afterward, he only made it up to me with a scarf worth a hundred dollars. It wasn’t that I disliked the scarf for being too cheap, but that my neck became incredibly itchy when I wore it. He had laughed at me then, “Where did you get all this princess syndrome? You’re probably just upset the gift is too cheap, aren’t you? Don’t try to be like those gold diggers online, Serena. We need to be grounded.” I shook my head with a bitter smile. Thankfully, I no longer had any expectations of him. I put everything back in its place, then hurried to deliver the file to him. As soon as I arrived at the company, I was stopped by the receptionist. I explained that I was Henry’s girlfriend and was there to deliver a file. The receptionist seemed to soften slightly, but then Elara Vance appeared. Elara didn't even glance at me. She looked straight ahead, instructing the receptionist, “Get rid of her quickly.” I stared at her in surprise. She clearly knew me; we had met before. I thought a woman like her would be above playing such petty games. The receptionist gave me an apologetic look and was about to ask me to leave. Seeing Elara walk away without a backward glance, I called out, “Ms. Vance, we know each other, don’t we?” Meeting the receptionist’s astonished gaze, Elara’s expression remained unchanged. She scrutinized me from head to toe, her eyes heavy with disdain. “So what? Are you so idle that you come here to cause a scene? Henry told me you were a high-achieving student?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. My temper flared, and I was about to say something when Henry suddenly appeared, stopping me. Henry first looked at Elara, asking her with concern, “What’s wrong? She didn’t do anything to you, did she?” I looked up, surprised. In Henry’s eyes, was I really that kind of person? Despite having long understood his true nature, a chill still ran down my spine at that moment. Thankfully, my time with him was also coming to an end. My wedding was scheduled for next month, and the groom wasn’t him. The man I was about to marry was someone I met through an arranged meeting; I didn’t have strong feelings for him. For me, marriage was just a task. I was in my early thirties; I needed a marriage to deflect societal scrutiny. Most importantly, I needed a definitive reason to finally end things with Henry. We had been together for eight years; he was my first love. To completely excise him from my life would be like tearing off my own skin. Fortunately, I had long passed the stage of holding romanticized notions of love. Watching the two of them being intimately close, oblivious to my presence, I maintained a calm expression and placed the file on the reception desk. “The file is here.” I casually informed him and then left. He didn't even glance at me until I had walked out of the company building. He was still talking to Elara about something. That evening, he returned. I was sitting on the sofa, casually looking at my phone. Henry seemed surprised that I hadn’t made dinner tonight. But he didn’t say much, turning instead to shower. After his shower, he saw me still on the sofa with my phone, his expression unreadable. “Why haven’t you cooked anything? I’ve had a long day. Can’t you be more thoughtful?” I didn’t even look up. “What? Your Ms. Vance didn’t keep you for dinner?” I had seen Elara’s social media post tonight. Henry had dropped her home. But Henry had told me he was working late. Caught in his lie, he grew annoyed. “I knew you’d overthink things, that’s why I kept it from you.” He sighed. “Look at you today, causing a scene at my company?” I looked at him as if he were an idiot. “Didn’t you ask me to deliver the file?” He coughed uncomfortably. Perhaps he realized he was in the wrong, but he still stubbornly insisted, “You should have just delivered the file to the reception. You argued with Elara just because you disliked her and made an issue out of nothing.” He continued, “She’s not like you. She’s not just any girl; she has ideals and ambitions. She’s above playing mind games and schemes or getting jealous all the time.” He concluded, “I’ve already apologized for you. Next time you see her, be polite.” I felt like I didn’t even know him anymore.
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