This was the 521st time Tommy had used cold violence against me and for the first time, he was the one to bow his head. He texted me the address of a high-end restaurant and asked me to dress nicely before coming to meet him. A sense of unease crept over me as I reread his message. I couldn't ignore the signs any longer—the ring I’d found hidden in his coat pocket, the absurdly expensive event planner he’d been consulting with recently. Suddenly, everything made sense. Our eight-year long-distance relationship was about to come to an end, but not in the way I had hoped.

He’d been so preoccupied lately, constantly busy and neglectful. Now, I realized, he’d been planning something—something significant. Was he finally going to propose to me? Despite the tension between us, a flicker of hope sparked in my chest. I carefully selected a dress, did my makeup and made sure I looked my best. I wanted to be prepared for whatever was coming, to hold onto that glimmer of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he was ready to take our relationship to the next level.

With a mix of anticipation and anxiety, I arrived at the restaurant. My heart pounded in my chest as I pushed open the door, only to have that flicker of hope extinguished in an instant. Sitting at the center of the elegantly decorated room, dressed in a stunning white wedding gown, was Tommy’s ex, Lolly. The sight of her in that position was a punch to the gut. Around her, the room was filled with guests, all eyes on the grand scene playing out before them.

I turned my gaze to the giant screen behind her. Bold letters flashed across it: “Thank you, Mr. Sullivan, for hosting a luxurious birthday party for his favorite little princess, Lolly.”

My stomach dropped as the truth hit me. This wasn’t a proposal for me. This wasn’t our moment. It was a lavish celebration for her.

Tommy had once told me that Lolly was his first. She had given him his first experience of love, or so he said. He felt obligated to her, a sense of guilt or unfinished business, perhaps. I was nothing more than a consolation prize in comparison. “A second-hand product,” he had once spat at me in a moment of anger, words that had cut deeper than any blade. I wasn't worthy of a grand gesture. I wasn't worthy of his commitment or his love.

I turned and walked out, leaving him and the life I had known behind. As the door closed behind me, I felt a strange sense of release. For the first time in eight years, I was free. And as painful as it was, I knew this ending was the beginning of something better.

--

Tommy was kneeling, bowing his head to slip the ring onto Lolly’s finger. The sight froze me in place. There he was, the man I had loved for eight long years, looking up at another woman with a reverence that once, in my naive dreams, I thought was reserved for me. I stood there, wearing the red dress Tommy had insisted I wear. I thought it was because he wanted to make the proposal special, wanted me to look beautiful. Now, under the harsh glare of reality, I realized I was nothing more than an embarrassed clown crashing their party.

Lolly, in her extravagant wedding dress, noticed me first. Her smile faltered for a moment before twisting into something cruel. Her fingers clenched around her champagne glass and with a quick flick of her wrist, she sent it crashing to the floor. The sound of shattering glass cut through the air, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Tommy looked up from his position at Lolly's feet, annoyance flashing across his face.

"Laura, are you trying to steal my limelight on purpose?" Lolly sneered, eyes blazing. "What do you think you’re doing here dressed like that? Do you think you can outshine me on my day?"

Tommy stood, brushing imaginary dust from his knees, as if kneeling in front of Lolly had been some sacred act. "Didn’t I tell you to wear something nice?" He sighed as if the sight of me was exhausting him. "Forget it, Laura. I’m too tired to argue with you. Lolly, let’s focus on the ring. This is your day, not hers."

He turned his back on me, half-crouched and delicately continued sliding the ring onto Lolly’s finger. The diamond caught the light, sparkling as though mocking my pain. Everything in front of me matched the proposal scene I had envisioned in my dreams. Except, in my dreams, it was me wearing the white dress, me receiving the ring from Tommy. For eight years, I had hinted, waited, hoped. I thought Tommy was finally going to give me what I had longed for. And now, I was watching him do it all for someone else.

Tommy’s brother sauntered over, a smug grin on his face. “You really should choose who you date more carefully, Tommy,” he said, loud enough for the entire room to hear. “Stick with women like her,” he nodded toward Lolly, “and your life will be perfect. End up with someone like...that,” he pointed at me with a disgusted curl of his lip, “and you’re just asking for a mess.”

A wave of laughter rippled through the room. Faces turned towards me, eyes gleaming with mockery. The heat of shame spread across my cheeks. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I turned and fled, my vision blurred with tears.

In my haste, I missed the last step of the staircase. My foot twisted painfully, sending me sprawling down the steps. A sharp pain shot through my ankle, but the pain in my heart was far worse. I laid there, the cold floor beneath me, waiting, hoping that Tommy would rush to my side, would try to explain, to apologize. But he never came. The door to the party remained firmly closed, sealing me out.

Minutes passed before my phone buzzed with a message. I scrambled to check, hoping against hope that it was Tommy, regretting his actions. I opened the message to see Tommy’s name and a text that broke what little remained of my heart:

[Laura, don’t embarrass yourself. Lolly just wanted a special moment. She gave me her first time and I feel like I owe her. I’m not leaving you for her. I just want to make things right. You know you can’t compete with that. Be reasonable.]

I stared at the words, my hands trembling. I had met Tommy after a difficult relationship, one where I had been hurt and learned to build myself up again. Tommy had known about my past, had used it against me in arguments, but I never thought it would come to this. That, in his eyes, nothing I did could measure up to the purity he believed Lolly had given him. My sacrifices, my love, my care—it was all worthless compared to a memory he shared with her.

Above Tommy’s text, I saw a message from my grandmother, the one person who had always believed in me.

[Finally, my dear girl is getting married! I’m so happy for you, Laura. I’ll make sure to gather my strength and be there for your big day.]

A fresh wave of tears blurred my vision. My grandmother and I had leaned on each other for so long. She was ill and every day was a gift. Knowing that I might be getting married had been her only joy, the one thing she clung to. I had wanted to tell her that Tommy was proposing so she could be at peace, knowing I’d be taken care of. But now, the future I had built in my mind crumbled around me.

I glanced down at my swollen ankle, feeling the pain sear through me. But it was nothing compared to the emptiness in my chest. There was no need to ask Tommy why he had done this, no need to beg for explanations. Today marked the eighth anniversary of our relationship, but it was clear now that it meant nothing to him. I would never get the ring I had waited so long for. I didn’t want it anymore.

Slowly, I rose to my feet, determined not to look back. As I hobbled down the street, away from the restaurant, I knew that this was the end. Not just of Tommy and me, but of the girl I had been, the one who believed love could be measured by time and sacrifice.

It was late at night when Tommy finally returned home. The door creaked open and he slipped in, carrying a small, neatly packaged box. He walked over to where I sat on the couch, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of a table lamp. His face was marked with annoyance, but he forced a smile as he handed me the box.

“I brought you a piece of cake,” he said, his voice tinged with impatience. “Lolly asked me to give it to you. Look at how generous she is, Laura. Why can’t you be more sensible, like her?”

I glanced at the cake. It was a mango sandwich cake. My stomach tightened in anger and sadness. This entire cold war between us had started over mangoes. I was allergic to them. Despite reminding Tommy countless times, he had brought home a fruit salad filled with mangoes a few weeks ago. It was a small thing, but it signified something so much bigger. His indifference. I got angry because it felt like he didn’t care about me and he got angry because he thought I was overreacting.

I took a deep breath, pushing down the swelling tide of grievance. “Tommy, grandma’s getting worse,” I said softly, my voice cracking with the weight of my suppressed tears. “I want to see her, maybe for the last time. Could you come with me tomorrow at noon?”

I hadn’t told grandma the truth about our relationship. I couldn’t bear to shatter her illusions. She was the one person who had always believed in my happiness and I was afraid that telling her about Tommy’s betrayal would break her heart. Deep down, I wanted to give Tommy one last chance. For the sake of our eight years together and for my grandma’s sake.

Tommy’s response was automatic, like a reflex. “No time, I have to accompany—” he began, but then he paused, his eyes flickering to the calendar hanging on the wall. For a brief moment, guilt flashed across his face. “I’ve just been really busy lately,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ll try to squeeze out some time tomorrow. And Laura,” he added, his tone becoming defensive, “you don’t need to be suspicious. I told you, I don’t care that you’re not a virgin. There’s no need to be so hostile to Lolly.”

His words cut through me, as they always did, sharp as glass. I didn’t respond. I turned and limped back to the bedroom, my injured ankle still sore from my fall.

As I entered the room, my eyes fell on the small transparent jar on the nightstand. It was filled with gold beans. Every time Tommy used cold violence against me after an argument—his silent treatment, his harsh words—I would use his credit card to buy myself a gold bean. A tiny symbol of self-worth in a relationship that had long ceased to be loving. Over eight years, I had collected 521 gold beans. The jar was now full, unable to hold any more.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Just as I was about to drift off, I heard Tommy’s phone ring in the other room. A few seconds later, the front door opened and then shut softly. He was leaving. Again. I didn’t follow him. I didn’t need to know where he was going or who he was meeting. The familiar ache of betrayal was something I had grown used to, like a dull, constant pain. I sent him a text message as dawn broke, a reminder to visit grandma. I hoped this time, he would listen.

The next day, I sat by my grandmother’s side in the small, sterile hospital room. Her breathing was shallow, her face pale against the white sheets. She took my hand in hers, her grip weak but determined. From under her pillow, she pulled out a pair of intricately embroidered marriage certificates.

“In our family, the man usually prepares these,” grandma whispered, her voice a fragile thread. “But Tommy is busy, with his career and all. So, I did it for you. To make things easier.”

I stared at the certificates, my heart breaking. Grandma had never been good with her hands and her health had been declining rapidly. How long had she spent, struggling with needle and thread, to create these? Her eyes were misty with unshed tears as she began to give me advice, her words filled with love and hope. She handed me a small pouch, filled with her life savings. Money she had put aside to help decorate the wedding, to give us a good start.

We waited, the hours stretching long and silent. But Tommy never came.

As the day faded into night, grandma’s grip on my hand loosened, her eyes fluttering closed. She left the world holding onto the belief that I was going to be happy, that my wedding day would be everything she had dreamed of for me. She never got to see Tommy walk through the door.

I arranged her funeral alone, each step taken without Tommy by my side. My phone rang after everything was over. It was Tommy.

“Sorry, the company had an emergency,” he said casually. “I’ll cook something nice tomorrow to make it up to you.”

Before I could say anything, I heard a familiar giggle in the background. Lolly’s voice rang out, clear and carefree. “Tommy, come on! Help me catch the biggest stuffed doll!”

The call ended abruptly. My chest tightened, not with the familiar pain of betrayal, but with a new resolve. I opened my email and sent a message to my supervisor.

[I would like to take on the overseas project responsibility.] I sent text to him.

It was time to leave. To leave Tommy, the pain and the life I had outgrown. Grandma had always wanted me to be happy and I realized now that staying with Tommy would never bring me the happiness she had wished for me. It was time to create a new beginning. One where I didn’t have to beg for love or be compared to someone else’s past. One where I could learn to love myself.

After meeting Tommy, I shifted my focus to him and our future, putting my career on the back burner. I'd been stuck in the position of deputy director for years. My dedication to Tommy and taking care of my grandmother meant I never took on the challenging projects that could have advanced my career. My supervisor, who had once seen potential in me, was growing increasingly disappointed. He suggested that I go overseas for training. He assured me that if I spent three years abroad, I would return to a major breakthrough and promotion.

I hesitated. The idea of leaving my grandmother and Tommy behind had always held me back. But now... everything was different. Grandma was gone and Tommy—well, Tommy had chosen someone else over me. There was nothing left for me here.

As I packed my suitcase, Tommy came home. He didn’t even notice the open bags on the floor, my clothes neatly folded and stacked, ready to be shipped to another continent. He tossed a teddy bear onto the bed.

“A gift for our eighth anniversary,” he said, his tone devoid of enthusiasm.

My eyes fell on the teddy bear. It was identical to the one in Lolly's social media post. I had seen the photo earlier that day—Lolly holding a giant teddy bear, her smile wide and radiant, her eyes sparkling. The caption read: "As long as it's something I want, he will always give it to me with both hands."

I stared at the bear. In eight years, Tommy had never taken me to play those silly arcade games where you win stuffed animals. He never did anything just because it would make me happy. He always held back, giving only the bare minimum, never with both hands, never fully.

“Don’t like it?” Tommy asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Lolly is so much simpler. She’s not materialistic. Women your age, who’ve been around, naturally value interests more.”

His words stung, each one laced with the same old accusation: that I wasn’t a virgin when we met. That I’d experienced the world before him, unlike Lolly, who was still “pure” in his eyes. He’d never let me forget that, constantly reminding me that no matter what I did, I could never be as innocent as she was.

Tommy saw the look on my face and smirked, like he was enjoying my discomfort. “You can’t find fault with this gift, right?” he said, reaching into a bag and pulling out a shoebox. My heart skipped a beat. It was from my favorite brand.

Not long ago, I’d mentioned to Tommy that there was a new pair of shoes I liked. They were a limited edition, only one pair available nationwide. I knew it would be impossible to get them, but it was a casual complaint, something I shared, not expecting anything. I hadn’t even thought he was listening.

For a moment, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this was Tommy’s way of making up for everything. I carefully opened the shoebox, excitement and curiosity bubbling inside me.

Before I could get a good look inside, something cold and slithery wrapped around my arm. I gasped as a small snake slithered out and sank its fangs into my palm.

“Ah!” I screamed, shaking my hand desperately, trying to fling the snake away. It took a few tries, but finally, it fell to the floor and slithered under the bed. My whole body was trembling, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Pain shot up my arm and I felt lightheaded.