I forced a smile, my fingers brushing against my forehead in a gesture of helplessness.

"So, everyone knew about this. It's almost laughable, isn't it? The person who once treated me so well, the one I thought was different, is the one who betrayed me."

David looked at me with a serious expression, his voice calm but firm.

"Haven’t you heard the saying? Find someone who is good in themselves, not just someone who is good to you."

His words hit me harder than I expected.

Yes, I had chosen James because he loved me, but I had overlooked something crucial.

Sincerity can fade, and love can change. James was no longer the shy boy who blushed when we first met.

I sighed quietly, feeling the weight of everything.

"Where are you headed? Going back to school by high-speed train?" David asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," I replied softly.

David nodded, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I’ll go with you."

At the high-speed rail station, I turned to say my goodbyes. As I boarded the train, I settled into my seat, watching the scenery blur past the window.

All I could think about was one thing: It was time to let go.

The one-hour ride was filled with the persistent buzzing of my phone. James' calls. His dozens of messages.

I saw them, but I couldn’t bring myself to reply.

My mind was consumed with memories of us.

We first met in freshman year. I had just entered school, eager to explore all the clubs and their activities. James approached me then, a friendly smile on his face.

"Hello, Miss. Would you like to know more about the calligraphy club?"

It was that simple sentence that set the course for everything between us.

He confessed to me at a hometown gathering, telling me that he wanted to take care of me. And he truly did. He brought me breakfast, saved me a spot at the library, worked part-time just to accompany me, sent me home for the holidays, and picked me up when I returned to school.

When he graduated and we were faced with the challenge of a long-distance relationship, he held me tightly and promised me something I thought I’d never doubt.

"No matter how far apart we are, you will always be my only one."

In just one year, everything had changed.

And since it had changed, I couldn’t hold on to it anymore.

That day, I sent James the only message I would ever send him again, the final message.

"James, let's break up."

After hitting send, I ignored him completely, turning my focus to preparing my inspection materials.

When I finally looked at my phone again, I found dozens—no, maybe hundreds—of missed calls and unread messages.

"Lila, did you go back to school? You left without saying goodbye, and now you're telling me we’re breaking up? What’s going on?"

"I know I’ve neglected your feelings because of my busy work, but I’m really swamped now. I need to think about our future. You don’t have a job, and if I don’t work harder, how will I support our little family?"

"Okay, stop being angry. I know I didn’t handle yesterday well."

"Lila, I know I was wrong. Can you please pick up and talk to me?"

Reading those messages made me feel nothing but absurdity.

I didn’t reply to him, but what I didn’t expect was for him to go as far as to contact my parents.

I had been with James for seven years, from undergraduate to graduate school. Our families had met. We had built a life together, or so I thought.

After finishing graduate school, he had moved back to our hometown, Springfield. My parents were thrilled about him. Every time I brought him home, they greeted him with warmth and enthusiasm.

I had even planned to marry him after graduation. But now, everything had changed.

"Lila, James called us and said you were angry with him and aren't picking up. What’s going on?"

"Mom, I didn’t lose my temper. I just didn’t know how to explain. Actually..."

Before I could finish, my mother cut me off.

"If it's not a temper, then what is it? You've been together for seven years, not seven months. Don’t act impulsively."

"Whatever it is, James' father's birthday is coming up. Don't be petty. Come back with him, and don't upset his family."

Before I could respond, she hung up.

I ran my hand over my forehead, frustrated. The situation between James and me was much more complicated than I had imagined.

After all these years, James' parents had treated me like their own daughter. They had always been kind and loving towards me.

Now, with his father's birthday approaching, ignoring it seemed impossible. After much thought, I decided I needed to tell them about the breakup in person.

When I arrived back in Springfield, I guessed my mother must have called James, because soon after, I received a message from him saying he would pick me up.

But when I got off the high-speed train, James wasn’t there. Instead, I received a message from Ella.

It was a selfie of her and James, taken in a hotel. The caption read: "It’s great, I can recharge after a long day of work."

And on her ring finger, clearly visible, was the couple's ring that James and I had picked out together.

I stared at the phone, numb. Another message came through.

— You don’t have a job. James is a college teacher. He’s not suitable for someone like you.

— You should have stayed away from him—someone who doesn’t want to make progress.

— Lila, do you know how much James loves me? He told me that if he could, he’d want to be with me from a distance forever.

— He said, body and soul, that I am the woman who fits him best.

I stared at those boastful and taunting words on my screen. A sick laugh escaped me.

Ella thought her words would hurt me, but all I felt was disgust.

And pity.

How could two college professors—two people who seemed so well-matched—descend into something so sordid?

Almost ten minutes after receiving Ella's message, I finally saw James.

He arrived late, offering an apology: "Sorry, I got held up."

I looked at him, his familiar face now a mask of hypocrisy, and the lies he spoke made my stomach churn with disgust.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I simply said, cold and detached, "Let's go."

James drove to the restaurant, and I stared out of the window, not saying a word the entire way.

When we arrived at the restaurant, I pointed to the copy shop across the street. "You go in first. I need to print something."

James looked at me, his confusion obvious. "What’s so urgent that you can’t wait?"

I stared at his face—so familiar, yet now so foreign—and replied firmly, "Yes, it’s very important."

I entered the private room where my parents and James' parents were already chatting, discussing our engagement and marriage.

I handed over the gift I had prepared beforehand. "Uncle, happy birthday."

"Thank you, Lila," James' father said warmly. "You must be tired from the journey. Sit down."

After I took my seat, James' parents began asking about my life at school and my plans for the future.

Before I could answer, James interrupted. "Let’s not talk about work today. Let’s not put any pressure on Lila."

His words seemed protective, and everyone smiled, clearly pleased. The conversation shifted smoothly to the topic of marriage.

"What plans does Lila have for marriage?"

I turned to James, his hopeful gaze fixed on me. I took a deep breath and, without hesitation, said, "He and I won’t be getting married."