The room erupted in cheers. Everyone raised their glasses.

"Congratulations in advance to Kevin and the future Mrs. James!"

Inside, the celebration roared on—laughter, clinking glasses, warmth.

I felt like I'd been plunged into ice water.

I don't know how long I stood there before the world came back into focus. My vision had blurred. Tears, I realized.

My fingers were numb from the cold. I typed out the words, one character at a time.

[Let's break up.]

Inside the room, a WeChat notification chimed.

Kevin picked up his phone, glanced at the screen, and tapped out a voice message.

"Mom, Dad—I've got an overseas project I need to handle. I really can't make it back today."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll let you know as soon as I've locked in a return date."

He set down the phone. That was it. No other response.

I waited.

And then it hit me.

I wasn't just missing from his pinned contacts—he'd muted me entirely.

A thousand miles apart, and he'd routinely take a full day to reply to my messages. I'd told myself he was busy with work. I'd made excuses for him.

Turns out, he simply couldn't be bothered.

Tears splashed onto my screen, one drop at a time.

Desperate, I called him.

This time, Kevin looked at his phone.

Then he silenced it and tossed it back onto the table.

He pretended he hadn't seen. Pulled out a deck of cards and started dealing to the others.

"Who's that?" someone asked.

"Millicent." He didn't even look up. "She calls me every damn day. It's exhausting."

Someone sounded confused. "So why not just reject the call?"

Kevin kept dealing, his tone utterly indifferent. "If I reject it, she'll just blow up my texts. I'll let it ring, then tell her later I was too busy to notice."

"Haha! Classic Kevin. You've got her wrapped around your finger."

I couldn't listen anymore.

I stumbled away, my legs barely holding me.

Spring Festival was days away. The streets buzzed with life—clusters of people, couples arm in arm, families laden with shopping bags.

I dragged my suitcase through the crowd with no destination in mind. A ghost among the living.

A young couple passed me, carrying bulging bags of groceries. A long scarf wound around both their necks, binding them together.

The girl looked worried. "It's just the two of us tonight. Think we can actually pull off a New Year's Eve dinner?"

The boy ruffled her hair. "If we can't, we'll order takeout. As long as we're together, who cares what we eat?"

That was exactly the scene I'd imagined for myself. For us.

I still couldn't understand.

Why was Kevin doing this to me?

We used to be so good together. So good.

I'm twenty-eight years old this year. We've known each other for twenty-eight years.

At four, on the first day of kindergarten, he grabbed my hand.

"Millie, when we play house, you're the only one I want as my wife."

At twelve, too young to understand love, he'd rush to my desk the second class ended. At that age, when reputation meant everything, he ignored the teasing and the jeers.

At fifteen, in the thick of adolescence, his face erupted in acne. His grades hit rock bottom. His parents were disappointed. He doubted everything about himself.

"Millie, what do I do? Do I even have a future?"

I held his hand and, trying to sound casual, told him something I'd never told anyone.

"I almost gave up once. For real."

"But I got through it. And after, I realized it wasn't such a big deal. You'll get through this too."

The shock in his eyes. The way his face crumpled when he understood. How he pulled me into his arms and sobbed—I can still see it like it was yesterday.

On my eighteenth birthday, the moment the clock struck midnight, he confessed.

"Millie, I'm going to spend my whole life being good to you."

Later, we both got into universities in Capital City.

He was on the south side. I was on the north.

Four hours by bus, round trip. Every single week, without fail, he made that journey—just to see me.

Even after graduation, our relationship stayed strong. He remained in Capital City to start his business while I went back home to find work.

This year, our families had already begun discussing wedding dates.

I'd resigned before the New Year specifically so I could move to Capital City afterward and find a job here. We'd never have to be apart again.

Now, all of that had turned to ash.

Kevin had found another girl—one he wanted to bring home to meet his parents.

He'd even started to despise me.

The words I'd once spoken to comfort him, tearing open my own wounds in the process—he'd turned them into jokes to share with someone else.

Darkness fell. The streets emptied.

I found a random hotel nearby.

I'd barely settled in when my phone lit up.

A message from Mom.

Sweetie, have you eaten yet? Dinner here is amazing!

A photo of the New Year's Eve feast followed.

Relatives crowded around the table, laughing, radiant.

A draft slipped through the hotel window and crept up my sleeves. I shivered.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and forced my voice to sound normal:

"The food's all ready! We're about to dig in. Don't worry about me."

I couldn't tell her the truth. I couldn't let my parents spend New Year's Eve worrying about me.

I found a random photo of a holiday dinner online and sent it to them.

Then, without thinking, I glanced at my chat with Kevin.

Empty as always.

At midnight, firecrackers erupted outside the window.

The celebration was so loud I couldn't sleep.

Like picking at a wound, I opened Kevin's social media, searching for any trace of his betrayal I might have missed.

He'd hidden it well. He'd kept her completely shielded.

I scrolled back and forth, over and over.

Finally, in a screenshot of a work group chat, I spotted Camille's username.

A distinctive name.

Something clicked. I searched for it across every platform I could think of.

Among dozens of accounts with similar names, I recognized her instantly.

The profile picture was painfully familiar—it was the matching half of Kevin's avatar.

When Kevin had changed his profile picture, I'd been so happy. I'd searched for the matching one and set it as my own.

His expression had soured.

He said it was just a random image. He didn't want to flaunt our relationship in front of friends and family.

In the end, he'd practically forced me to change it back.

Camille's account had only a handful of followers.

But hundreds of posts—chronicling her love story with Kevin.

It had started last May. That's when the first hints appeared.

Poor boss has been stuck at the office for a month straight, eating nothing but takeout. I brought him some homemade chicken soup today, and he actually teared up. Makes you wonder what kind of girlfriend he has.

That was when Kevin's father had broken his leg.

To let Kevin focus on the company without distraction, none of us had told him.

I'd taken a full month off work. I'd run myself ragged caring for Ronald until he was discharged.

Afterward, my supervisor had quietly removed my name from the promotion list.

Boss pushed back so many projects just to take me on business trips—basically a paid vacation! Being spoiled feels incredible.

That was our ten-year anniversary. It was also my birthday.

I'd pulled an all-nighter to finish a project, scraped together three days off, and planned to surprise him.

He'd told me he had an important business trip. He simply couldn't get out of it.

Boss bought me a designer bag! The charm that came with it was kind of ugly though, so I'm leaving that for him.

I froze.

My eyes drifted to my phone case.

An identical charm dangled there—Kevin's belated birthday gift to me.

I'd treasured it for so long. I'd even covered it with a protective film.

It took me two hours to get through every post on Camille's account.

When I finished, I felt nothing but cold.

Not a single photo showed Kevin's face clearly.

But that familiar hem of his shirt, the matching couple's ring on his finger—every detail screamed the truth about who he was with.

Kevin had been cheating on me for a long time.

In the distance, fireworks exploded into the sky.

I snapped out of my daze, yanked the charm off with all my strength, and hurled it into the trash.

Ding—

Camille had sent something new.

This time, a voice recording.

In it, she asked in that coy, bratty tone of hers:

"Kevin, between me and your girlfriend—who do you love more?"

"Hmm?"

Kevin's voice sounded drowsy. Tender. Intimate.

"You. I love you the most. She can't even compare to you."

"Baby, let's go again, okay?"

The violent rustling of fabric left nothing to the imagination.

I switched off my phone and bolted to the bathroom, retching violently over the sink.

When I finally looked up at the mirror—

Somewhere along the way, tears had soaked my face.

I booked a 7 a.m. train ticket for the next morning without thinking twice.

All I wanted was to get out of this city as fast as possible. Away from Kevin.

I don't remember how I got home.

By the time I came back to myself, it was already the sixth day of the new year.

Mom and Dad could tell something was wrong, but they didn't pry. Instead, they kept buying me little things, trying every trick they knew to coax a smile out of me.

That morning, Mom asked me gently:

"The James family invited you over for dinner. Do you want to go?"

I glanced at my phone.

Kevin had finally replied yesterday.

Two messages.

One was recalled.

The newest one contained a single word:

[Okay.]

I said yes anyway.

Some things just needed to be said face to face.

A crowd had gathered outside the James family's front door.

When they saw me approach, their expressions shifted—strange, loaded looks. Some pitying. Others hungry for drama.

My stomach dropped. The moment I stepped inside, I saw Kevin kneeling in the middle of the living room.

Standing awkwardly beside him was Camille.

Do the math, I thought bitterly. The second he saw my message, he must have rushed to bring her home.

Inside, Mrs. James's face was flushed crimson with rage. Her palm slammed against the table so hard the dishes rattled.

"You ungrateful wretch! How could you do this to Millicent?!"

Kevin looked disheveled, but his jaw was set with stubborn resolve.

"I'll explain everything to her. I don't love her anymore. Camille is my girlfriend now."

My heart clenched like a fist had closed around it.

Hearing him say it out loud—it still shattered me.

Mrs. James let out a laugh of pure disbelief.

"Then by all means, enlighten me. Tell me what's so wonderful about this woman that you'd throw away ten years with Millicent."

Kevin's face lit up, like someone had flipped a switch. Happiness. Sweetness. Devotion.

"She cooks for me. She irons my shirts—the ones that are always wrinkled."

"When the company hit a crisis, she pulled all-nighters with me, stayed by my side through every minute of it."

"Millicent? She just hid away in her hometown. Didn't check on me, didn't care. Couldn't even bring me a hot meal."

"So why should I stay with her?!"

He spoke with such righteous conviction, such passionate certainty.

As if he wasn't just convincing his parents—but himself.

Whispers rippled through the crowd of relatives and neighbors.

"Well, when you put it that way, maybe the Simmons girl really wasn't good enough. Isn't the whole point of dating to have someone who actually cares for you?"

I stopped in my tracks. A bitter lump lodged itself in my throat.

How laughable.

None of them knew—I had planned to stay in Capital City.

The opportunities here were endless. My dream job was everywhere I looked.

But Kevin wanted to start his business, and his parents were worried sick.