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.

Tommy looked just as shocked as I was to see the snake. His eyes widened and he instinctively reached for his phone. For a moment, I thought he was going to call for help, but he hesitated. Instead, he dialed Lolly's number.

"Tommy, thank you for the shoes you gave me, they are so beautiful," I heard Lolly’s cheerful voice on the other end of the line.

"What’s with the snake?" Tommy asked, his voice laced with confusion and anger.

Lolly laughed, a crisp, lighthearted sound. "It’s just a little fun. An eye for an eye. Who told her to ruin my birthday party deliberately? Don’t worry, Snaky isn’t poisonous."

Tommy visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping as relief washed over his face. He shot me a quick glance before retreating to the balcony to continue the conversation in private.

I watched him walk away, feeling a knot tighten in my chest. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had a deep fear of snakes. I called out to Tommy, my voice trembling, but he ignored me. Panic surged through me. My eyes fixed on the snake still writhing on the floor, its tongue flicking out as if taunting me.

My breath came in short gasps and I knew I couldn’t wait for Tommy. I had to do something myself. Summoning every ounce of courage, I opened my eyes and shakily reached for the snake, pinching its neck between my fingers. With all the strength I could muster, I threw the snake across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the floor, still moving.

I collapsed onto the sofa, drenched in sweat, curling up in fear. The snake lay on the floor, still, but its presence was enough to keep me paralyzed. I couldn’t move, couldn’t bring myself to get up and walk back to the bedroom. It felt like hours before Tommy finally came back inside, finding me huddled and trembling on the couch.

"Laura?" he called softly. His eyes took in my pale face, the beads of sweat on my forehead and the way I was shaking uncontrollably. "Lolly was just joking. She’s young; don’t take it so seriously."

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My mind was still trapped in the fear, the memory of the snake’s cold, scaly skin against my hand. Seeing my state, Tommy’s face clouded with concern. Realizing the severity of my reaction, he decided to take me to the hospital.

He wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and led me to the car. The ride to the hospital felt endless. I sat in the passenger seat, my body trembling, still feeling the phantom touch of the snake wrapping around my arm and neck, squeezing the breath out of me. I clutched the blanket tightly, trying to ground myself, but my mind wouldn’t stop replaying the moment the snake bit me.

"Tommy, I’m scared…" My voice was barely a whisper, weak and shaky.

Tommy’s eyes flicked to me and for a moment, I saw genuine concern in his expression. His tone softened and he reached out to touch my hand. "It’s okay, Laura. Don’t be afraid. We’re almost at the hospital. Just hold on a little longer, okay?" His voice was low and gentle, a stark contrast to the indifference I was used to. It soothed me and slowly, bit by bit, the fear began to ebb away.

But just as I started to calm down, Tommy slammed on the brakes. My body lurched forward, stopped only by the seatbelt and my heart leaped into my throat.