When Arianne Winston once again chose the intern with nothing more than a scraped elbow after the car accident, leaving me, the one actually injured, completely unattended, something inside me finally shifted.

At that moment, I realized I didn't love her as much anymore.

A little later, I saw the intern flaunting a cheek-to-cheek selfie on her Instagram.

[Meeting you is only the beginning of the story.]

This time, I didn't panic, tremble, or boil with anger.

Instead, I calmly gave the post a like and even commented:

[Next time, take her right profile. She looks even prettier from that side.]

After that, I opened a movie I had saved for ages and watched it with genuine interest.

Right before bed, I noticed dozens of missed calls and texts on my phone.

[Hudson is still young and playful. Don’t take it to heart. I’ll make it up to you for your birthday when I get back tomorrow.]

I didn't reply.

I was still savoring the male lead’s carefree line from the film:

[The world is so big. I want to see it too.]

——

The next day, Arianne didn't keep her promise. She didn't come home to celebrate or make up for my birthday.

At this point, I was used to it. Disappointment barely registered anymore.

In fact, when I arrived at the office that morning, I walked straight to HR and handed in my resignation.

Afterward, I booked a plane ticket for an overseas flight scheduled for the following week.

I had always been impulsive and decisive, except when it came to love.

There, I hesitated, second-guessed, and never managed to cleanly let go.

One week later would be our sixth anniversary.

A fitting end, I thought.

Neat and complete.

On the third night, Arianne staggered home drunk. She wobbled in her heels in the entryway for a long moment, clearly waiting for me to come take her bag and bring her slippers, just as I always did.

But I didn't move and just sat on the sofa, typing out travel plans on my laptop.

She looked over at me, shaking her head with a small, amused scoff as she kicked off her heels.

“Still sulking? You’ve been ignoring my messages all day.”

She waved a hand like she was brushing the whole thing aside and stepped farther into the room.

“Alright, alright. See? I’m home now, aren’t I?” She pressed her fingers to her temple with a dramatic groan. “My head is pounding. Go make me that soup you always make when I drink too much.”

She was constantly stuck at work dinners and hated taking anything for her liver. Once, I even tracked down an old-school herbalist for a recipe for a hangover broth. And every time she came home drunk, I made sure there was a warm bowl waiting for her.

Still thinking about where my second stop abroad should be, I didn't even look up.

“There are some hangover pills on the nightstand. Take one if you feel that bad.”

The living room fell quiet.

Only after a long moment did I lift my head.

Arianne’s expression darkened.

“Clyde, even if you’re upset, there’s a line. Hudson is just a kid trying to get by in this city. I’m the only one he can rely on. Can’t you stop being jealous of him?”

She had forgotten that Hudson was only three years younger than me.

I pointed to my gauze-wrapped foot.

“I’m not angry, and I’m not jealous. My foot was injured in the accident, remember? I can’t stand for long. If you really want the soup, call Hudson over. I’ll teach him the recipe.”

She stared at me, completely thrown. There was a time when the name Hudson alone was enough to ignite me. Now I was calmly offering to have him come over and cook her hangover soup.

“Is your foot alright?” she asked, tone softening. “Hudson was hurt that day. He said the sight of blood made him dizzy, that he might pass out. I wanted to take him to the hospital first and then come back…”

My gaze cut her off, and instantly, words died in her throat.

Hudson’s so-called injury was nothing more than a scrape on his right hand. A big bandage covered it. Her excuse for coming back later was nothing but a joke.

Right then, Arianne cleared her throat awkwardly and pulled a plastic bag from her purse.

“You like crab, right? I picked some up for you.”

I kept my tone neutral. “The doctor said seafood causes inflammation. I’m supposed to avoid it.”

That shut her down fast. Someone who’d always held the upper hand in our relationship suddenly found herself blocked at every turn, and her patience snapped.

“Unbelievable. I try to do something nice, and you just blow it up in my face.”

She hurled the plastic bag straight into the trash and stormed into the bathroom.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table.

I picked it up out of habit, then realized it wasn’t mine.

It was Arianne’s.

A text popped up on the screen:

[Man, those crabs my boss treated me to were unreal. I’m stuffed. To return the favor, I’ll cook you a whole feast next time.]

My eyes drifted toward the trash can, where the single crab she’d brought home for me sat tossed aside like it didn’t matter.

I let out a slow, humorless breath.

...

The next morning, I woke up early, took a shower, and blow-dried my hair. Just as I was about to head out, Arianne finally stirred.

“Where are you going? It’s the weekend,” she mumbled.

“Company team-building,” I said.

“Oh, right.” She pushed her hair off her face. “If Hudson ends up staying over, make sure you buy condoms. I tossed all the expired ones.”

I didn’t bother responding.

I just turned around, hit the elevator button, and walked out.

Arianne had always been anxious about the number of female coworkers at my job. For six years, she had tried to persuade me to quit more times than I could count. To help her feel more secure, I cut off all social activities outside of work.

In six years of employment, I had never attended a team-building event, not one dinner, not a single company outing. Even the annual year-end party, the biggest event of the year, I had always found an excuse to avoid.

Eventually, everyone labeled me as the aloof, antisocial person. This time, since I was already planning to leave, I finally broke the pattern and joined the two-day company retreat.

Once I relaxed and played games, grilled, and chatted with coworkers, I realized they were all truly kind people.

When Wanda heard I was planning a trip to France, she playfully smacked my shoulder.

"You should have done this ages ago. You’re young. Why live like a hermit?”

I took a sip of my drink, emotions twisting in my chest. “Yeah… you’re right. I’m only now realizing how much I might’ve missed out on.”

For a love that led nowhere, I had missed the scenery of an entire world.

During those two days, Arianne’s messages never stopped.

[Are you having fun? Who are you with?”

[Where are you staying? Do you need me to come tonight?”

[What time are you heading back? Should I pick you up?]

[What are you doing? Why aren’t you replying?]

My phone kept lighting up repeatedly. Before, whenever I went out for meetings, I always documented every detail with pictures, terrified of giving her any reason to doubt me.

But whenever I needed the same reassurance, she acted like I was suffocating her.

“I’m a person, not some pet you can whistle for. I need space. I need freedom.”

On the way back from the retreat, we hit a major accident on the highway. By the time I finally got home, it was close to midnight. Dragging my suitcase into the living room, I was surprised to find Arianne still awake.

“So you do remember how to come home. I thought you fell in love with the outside world and couldn’t bear to return.”

I was exhausted, eyelids heavy, with no energy for an argument. “There was an accident. Traffic was backed up for hours.”

Arianne shot to her feet, her voice tightening with anger.

“That’s not what I’m asking, Clyde. Why didn’t you answer any of my messages for two days?”

She threw her hands up, frustration spilling over.

“You just disappear like some moody teenager. If you’re upset, can’t you just say it? Do you really have to give me the silent treatment?”

So she did know silence could be cruel. Yet she used it on me every single time, letting me suffer, lose sleep, and twist myself into knots until she finally offered some fragile reconciliation.

“I was at a company event,” I said quietly. “I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. My schedule was full, and I didn’t have time to reply. And you, of all people, should understand that. You used to be too busy to respond to me all the time.”

I didn't bother saying more.

I walked directly to the bathroom to wash up. When I returned, the living room lights had been dimmed to a warm glow. The TV was on, and a bottle of red wine sat waiting on the coffee table.

“You’ve been talking about wanting to watch this movie forever. I’ll watch it with you tonight.”

A yawn slipped out of me, my eyes already half closed.

“No need. I already watched it by myself on my birthday night.”

I didn't bother to look at her expression as it darkened. Instead, I walked straight into the bedroom and locked the door.

Later that night, still half-asleep, I faintly heard a door slam outside, loud enough to echo through the apartment. I drifted back to sleep without checking.

The next morning, Arianne was gone.

At the office, Wanda spotted me almost immediately and tugged me aside with a secretive look.

“Clyde, didn’t you say you’re going to France?”

“Yeah.”

“What a coincidence. My niece is flying out around the same time. You two should travel together.”

I opened my mouth to refuse, but Wanda brushed off my hesitation before I could even speak.

“She’s a travel blogger. Her itineraries are amazing. If she takes the lead, you’ll save yourself a ton of planning.”

She was already pulling out her phone as she added, “Great, it’s settled. I’ll send her your WhatsApp.”

I hesitated, but ultimately, the idea pulled me in. I had been overwhelmed trying to plan the trip on my own, and after years of not traveling, even the excitement felt unfamiliar.

That afternoon, I took leave to attend the anniversary celebration at my alma mater.

In front of the library, a lively group of students was laughing and taking photos. At the center stood a cheerful-looking boy, his arm loosely around a girl in a white dress.

The two of them looked striking in the sunlight.

“Kiss! Kiss! We need it for the campus couple wall.”

The boy shyly laughed and leaned in, gathering his courage. The sunlight cast itself over them, awakening a distant, old memory of youth.

“Huh? Isn’t that Arianne? Our year’s campus belle. Damn, she is really robbing the cradle now.”

The classmate beside me said it a little too loudly.

Arianne’s head snapped in our direction.

Our eyes met, and panic flickered across her face.

She instinctively pushed Hudson away and started to walk toward me, but he grabbed her arm firmly. He said something I could not hear, and she hesitated, lowering her gaze.

My phone buzzed. It's Arianne's text.

[Don’t get the wrong idea. They were just messing around, and I didn’t want to kill the mood.]

I didn’t even bother giving her the bare minimum “okay.”

Soon after, I followed the group to the café we used to visit, listening to the familiar chatter all around me.

“Clyde, what is your situation now?”

I lifted my coffee and answered calmly, “Single.”

Someone leaned in with interest, clearly ready to stir the pot.

“You should take a page out of Arianne’s book. If a relationship doesn’t work out, go find yourself a younger guy. Look at her and her new boyfriend. They actually look pretty good together.”

I smiled lightly. “Yeah. Talented man, beautiful woman. Very well matched.”

As the words left my mouth, the entire table fell silent. Their gazes shifted past my shoulder, toward something behind me.

Arianne had come in at some point.

I had no idea how long she had been standing there, but her expression was already dark.

“Clyde, come outside with me.”

The absurdity of it hit me all at once.

We had been dating for 6 years, but she never acknowledged me in her social circles. One year, her company’s annual celebration gave the family a chance to attend. I dressed in a suit, eager to surprise her, only to be introduced as 'a college classmate' to her coworkers.

And now, when I was giving her exactly what she always seemed to want, she was angry?

“Arianne, can I help you? We’re having a reunion. Probably not the best time.”

She opened her mouth, ready to argue, but a voice called from behind her.

“Arianne, everyone’s waiting for you.”

Hudson Myers.

Arianne took a deep breath, shot me a glare sharp enough to cut glass, and finally let him pull her away.

Later that evening, once the anniversary event wrapped up, I said goodbye to my classmates at the school gate. I had just reached for my phone to call a cab when a familiar car slowed to a stop beside me.

The window rolled down, revealing Arianne’s tense profile.

“Get in.”

After such a long day, I didn’t have the energy to argue on the sidewalk. I quietly opened the door and got in.

The car settled into a heavy silence.

Back then, I would have forced conversation, desperate to smooth things over, only for her to sigh and snap, “Clyde, can’t you be quiet for one minute?”

Tonight, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the campus forum, casually looking over the couple of photos of her and Hudson that had been uploaded recently.