My Love Died in Spring

I waited ten years to get married to Emily Stanton.

We had applied for a marriage license seven times, and seven times it had been called off.

In our circle, we were the golden couple. She had sold her own blood to help cover my hospital bills, and I had stood by her side as she built the Stanton family empire from nothing.

On our tenth anniversary, I brought up the idea of finally having a wedding ceremony and making things official again.

She just rubbed her temples and tossed her blazer aside.

"We'll talk about it later. We've been together this long—why are you still hung up on something like this?"

The words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat.

Does every great love eventually fade into something ordinary?

The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Then her phone buzzed with a notification.

Against my better judgment, I picked it up. The contact name on the screen was impossible to miss:

Honey.

[Baby, when are you coming home? Jamie says she misses Mommy.]

A storm of emotions crashed over me.

That's when I discovered Emily Stanton had another WhatsApp account.

The woman in those posts was nothing like the one I knew.

At the top was a wedding photo—the two of them beaming, radiant. Tucked among the roses she'd received yesterday was a brand-new diamond ring, hidden between the petals.

The water in the bathroom stopped.

I clenched my fists.

Then I forwarded the guy's WhatsApp info to my assistant.

[Look into him.]

When Emily came out, I had already put her phone back and composed myself.

But she still noticed something was off.

A nearly imperceptible sigh escaped her lips. She reached out and rubbed my earlobe.

"Daniel… why are you crying?"

Was I crying? I hadn't even noticed the redness at the corners of my eyes.

Yeah. After more than ten years, we knew each other better than anyone.

"Are you still hung up on the license and wedding? If it really means that much to you, we can at least go take the bridal photos."

She sat across from me, giving a little ground.

But all I saw in my mind were her wedding photos with someone else.

My heart twisted. I gripped the couch cushion.

"Forget it. Work starts back up after the holidays. The company's slammed. Neither of us has the time."

She raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.

"Get some rest."

Then she went to the bedroom. No extra concern. No further conversation.

And yeah, the company was busy. But I still carved out time to come home and cook a whole table of her favorite dishes.

The food had gone cold. She hadn't even looked at it.

Seven applications. Seven cancellations. Every time, a different excuse. Last-minute business trip. Bad mood. Terrible weather.

I let out a bitter laugh.

At last, I could no longer deceive myself with the comforting lie that ordinary and uneventful was the truest form of love.

My phone buzzed with a message from my assistant.

[His name is Ryan Zhou. Unit 202, Building X, Riverside Garden.]

The next morning, I went straight to Riverside Garden.

It was the second property Emily and I had bought together. In my name.

I still remembered paying for it in full that day. I had lifted her in my arms. Her voice was muffled against my chest.

"This place is yours. If I ever treat you badly, you can move here on your own."

And now she had moved her lover into that very house.

I stood by the entrance so long an elderly woman nearby asked, "Young man, who are you looking for?"

When I said Unit 202, her face lit up.

"Oh, that family! They're so in love. They invited the whole building to their wedding. The other day, Ryan had a stomachache, and his wife rushed right over from a meeting. She was worried sick."

The more she spoke, the more animated she became.

Just then, the door opened.

"Ryan Murphy, right? Let's talk."

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. But there, in the foyer, more evidence of their love story greeted me. Travel photos of the two of them hung everywhere.

Ryan didn't look surprised at all. He led me to the living room like it was his own home. His eyes held nothing but open provocation.

"I was wondering when you'd finally find out about me. Honestly, I thought you'd show up sooner."

He slid a glass of water toward me, acting every bit the man of the house.

The rage surged through me. I threw the water in his face.

"I've been with Emily for ten years. Who the hell do you think you are?"

Right then, a little boy appeared in the doorway, wailing. He stumbled and ran back into the bedroom.

When he came back out, he was clutching two marriage licenses.

"My daddy is not the other man!"

My hands trembled as I grabbed them.

July 13th, five years ago. The day we lost our second child.

That day, our baby had suddenly started vomiting blood. We were out in the suburbs and couldn't find a cab. I called her over and over. Every call went straight to voicemail.

Our son, not even a month old, stopped breathing in my arms.

Turns out she had been busy that day. Busy marrying someone else.

Ryan held the boy on his hip and gave me a soft, smug smile.

"We're legally married, you know. License and everything. Had the wedding too. You don't have any of that, do you?"

His gloating face blurred in front of me. I couldn't stop myself. I slapped him.

The fingerprint lock beeped. The door opened.

Ryan touched his cheek, his voice dripping with feigned hurt.

"Emily..."