Courtney, clearly annoyed, stormed over to Darryl’s side and launched into a tirade.

“June, watch your mouth! Don’t you know that in a relationship, the one who’s not loved is the wrecker? Darryl has stopping from loving you for a long time ago. That makes you the homewrecker here! If he wasn’t so kind and worried about you not being able to handle the truth, he would’ve dumped you ages ago. You should be thankful he let you hang on for a few extra days as his girlfriend!”

She crossed her arms and sneered. “And you’ve got the nerve to ask why he didn’t choose you? Seriously, June, know your place! Marriage isn’t just about love, family background counts. Your parents are just some broke bakers selling buns on the street. They probably scrape by just to make ends meet. And you? Your income’s a joke. It’s not stable and you don’t even have a real job! Darryl deserves someone like me—my dad’s a corporate manager, my mom’s a teacher and I make over ten grand a month. Isn’t it obvious who he’d choose?”

Hearing this, my heart sank. I thought about my dad, who owned nine high-end restaurants and brought in millions annually, yet still enjoyed tinkering with new recipes for pastries and bread.

I looked at Darryl, needing to hear it from him directly. “Is that true? You looked down on me because of my family?”

Darryl hesitated but then nodded. “Courtney’s not wrong. Your parents sell buns—they’re probably just barely making enough to survive. And you? Instead of finding a stable career, you insist on being some…dream painter. What does even that? If you got order, you might make a few thousand bucks and if the next month, you got no clients, then you got nothing. Even if I’m working my ass off, I still could keep up afloat! I can’t keep living like that.”

Courtney clung to Darryl’s arm, her voice turning sickly sweet. “Baby, today’s a big day for us. Don’t waste your time arguing with her. Just get her out of here, all right?”

Her friends chimed in as if they’d rehearsed this scene.

“Come on, June, don’t force it. No one likes a bitter ex.”

“Exactly. This is their engagement party. If it were me, I’d have left already. Why stick around and make a fool of yourself?”

Darryl added, “You hear that? We’re about to start our celebration. Just leave, June. You can get your things some other times.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but a faint scent of durian hit my nose. My eyes darted upward to see Courtney walking over with a box. She pulled out a piece of the fruit, took a bite and then held it up to Darryl’s mouth. Without hesitation, he took a bite, showing no sign of disgust.

The scene stopped me cold.

Durian had always been one of my favorite fruits, but in the two years we’d been together, I’d barely touched it because Darryl claimed he couldn’t stand the smell. He said just a whiff made him sick. I’d once brought a durian home without knowing this and before I even had the chance to open it, he’d demanded I throw it out. If I insisted on eating it, I’d have to do so elsewhere, brush my teeth and wait for the smell to completely disappear before coming back.

But now, Courtney was eating it in our living room and he didn’t just tolerate it—he joined her.

Courtney noticed me staring at the durian. Smirking, she waved it in front of my face. “What? You want some? You see, Darryl bought this just for me because he knows I love it and I am not sharing with you.”

Then, she stuffed the rest into her mouth, chewing dramatically like she was putting on a show.

I wasn’t angry at her. The realization that Darryl had never loved me was what cut deep. For two years, he’d never made exceptions for me—never prioritized me the way he clearly did for her.

“Everything’s been said, so just leave already!” Darryl snapped, grabbing my arm and trying to push me toward the door.

When Darryl’s hand grabbed my arm to shove me out, I instinctively pulled away. “This is my house! If anyone should leave, it’s you two.”

Darryl crossed his arms and laughed, as if I’d just told him a joke. “Your house? Don’t make me laugh, June. This place is rented. Your classmate’s cousin is the landlord. What does it have to do with you?”

I lifted my chin defiantly and shouted back, “I only set that up to avoid hurting your ego! I wanted you to live comfortably, not crammed in a single room like before. I bought this place myself and had my friend act like the landlord so you wouldn’t feel ashamed. Do you really think you’d find a place like this for just a thousand bucks a month?”

“I don’t have time for this!” Darryl snapped, his voice loud enough to rattle the walls. “If this place is really yours, then show me the deed. Prove it then I’ll leave. But if you can’t, then stop wasting my time.”

His words stung, hitting me square in my weak spot. I clenched my fists and replied through gritted teeth, “The deed is at my parents’ house.”

He scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “How convenient. Well then, why don’t you go and get it? I’m done with all your nonsenses.”

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the door. His strength left me no room to resist and before I knew it, the door slammed shut behind me.

Rubbing the sore red marks on my arm, I let out a shaky breath and turned to leave.

It was late by the time I arrived at my parents’ house. The warm glow of the living room lights spilled onto the porch, where I could hear the faint hum of the TV. When I stepped inside, my mom looked up, surprised to see me.

“Honey,” she said cautiously, “didn’t you say your boyfriend was going to propose today? Why do you come alone?”

Hearing her words, my chest tightened and my eyes stung with unshed tears. When Darryl told me to go to the hotel, I didn't go. Instead, I went to my parents' house. With great joy and excitement I told them that Darryl was probably preparing a proposal party for me. I’d even promised to bring him by to meet them afterward.

But now, the memory of him kneeling with a ring for Courtney played on repeat in my mind and the tears I’d been holding back came rushing out. I collapsed onto the couch and buried my face in my mom’s shoulder.

“He proposed...but not to me,” I choked out. “We break up, Mom. I don’t want him anymore.”

I could feel her body stiffened. 

“What? How could that happen? You two always seemed fine. Oh, my poor baby,” she said softly, rubbing my back in soothing circles. “It’s okay. He’s just one man. If he doesn’t see your worth, he doesn’t deserve you. You’ll find someone better, I promise.”

Meanwhile, my dad shot up from his chair, his face flushed with anger. “Where is that little punk? Take me to him right now. I’ll make sure he never messes with you again.”

I shook my head, forcing a weak smile, “I don’t want that. What I really need now is some delicious food. Do we have them?”

Eating had always been my comfort, my way of patching up the cracks when things got too hard to bear.

My dad softened at my request, muttering under his breath before saying, “We’ve got some of your favorite crab meat buns in the fridge. I’ll heat them up for you.”

Hearing that made me tear up all over again.

Funny enough, those buns were part of what drove a wedge between Darryl and me in the first place.

We’d met during our junior year of college. He was hosting a campus event and his looks immediately caught my attention. Being the shameless romantic that I was, I chased after him for three months before he finally agreed to date me.

My parents didn’t oppose the relationship, but they had one condition: I couldn’t tell him about our family’s wealth until things were serious.

At the time, I was annoyed by their request. It felt elitist, especially since they owned a chain of high-end restaurants where the cheapest dish cost more than most people’s weekly groceries.

Darryl, on the other hand, came from humble beginnings. He was a small-town boy who paid his tuition through part-time jobs. To me, that only made him more admirable. 

I was very confident that he loved me, rich or poor.

When I first met Darryl, I hadn’t told him about my family’s financial situation. He had never asked, either, apart from one offhand comment.

It was the time I brought some crab-filled buns my dad had made to school. Darryl loved them and while eating one, he joked, “These are really good. Your parents don’t happen to run a food stall selling these, do they?”

I had laughed and said yes, playing along with the joke. He didn’t ask me anything further about my family after that.

Looking back now, I realized he probably believed it. He must have assumed my parents were just small-time street vendors. Maybe that’s why he never saw a future with me, even back then.

His actions had always reflected that assumption. Whenever I tried to help him financially or surprise him with gifts, he’d tell me not to waste money and to be considerate of how hard my parents must have worked. When I decided to pursue my dream of becoming an illustrator, he hesitated but eventually said I should follow my heart and that he’d handle the rest—even though his salary wasn’t much to begin with. But the truth was, his salary was only about 2000 dollar a month. 

When my parents heard this they were speechless. But they were relieved I hadn’t married him yet, grateful I had stopped before it went too far.

One night before bed, I called my best friend, who was on a business trip in another city. We needed to discuss the issue of moving out.

The apartment Darryl was living in was actually mine.

Because Darryl had a few thousand yuan in student loans, he had to work part-time as a delivery driver while interning during the day. He was living in a cramped room, barely big enough for a bed, in a run-down rental. I felt so sorry for him that I used my pocket money, which my parents had given me, to buy a two-bedroom apartment near his workplace.

I arranged for a classmate to tell Darryl that her cousin had gone abroad and left behind a property she wanted to rent out. She wasn’t trying to make money; she just wanted someone to manage the place, so she offered it to him for just a thousand yuan a month. Darryl agreed to rent it and I moved in with him.

Now, we had been living together for almost a year. Looking back, I was grateful that we always slept in separate rooms and nothing romantic ever happened between us.

My best friend, after hearing about everything, was furious. She promised me that once she finished her work, she’d come back immediately and we’d deal with that scumbag together.

During the few days while I waited for her, I spent my time eating all sorts of delicious food. When I was with Darryl, I never accepted my parents' money and lived off my own salary, trying to make ends meet. Everything from my meals to my clothes had been the simplest, most ordinary stuff. I even started learning how to cook, something I had never done before. It made me reflect a lot and I was amazed at how far I was willing to go for him.

I really did give him my heart, but in the end, it was all for nothing.

During this time, I also took on a commission to create a drawing. It was from a mother who adored her daughter. She wanted to preserve a beautiful dream her daughter had shared with her, hoping someone could capture it in art for her to cherish forever.

My major in college had been in management, not art. Drawing was just a hobby, but when I discovered the profession of dream illustration, I was fascinated and thought it sounded beautiful. My parents had always supported me, no matter how little money I might make. They just wanted me to be happy.

Darryl had once told me the same thing. He said it was a great career, one that would allow me to spend more time with our future kids without missing out on their upbringing.

But now I realized he had never respected my work. While stringing me along and treating me like a backup plan, he had been looking for someone who could replace me.

My best friend returned on the weekend. She came straight to my place from the airport. After we had dinner together, we hired some movers and went to find Darryl.

Darryl hadn’t changed the password, so we easily got into the apartment. But when we looked around, he wasn’t there.

When I opened the door to my room, I pushed it open and saw a bald man lying on my bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. He was shirtless, his rough, dark skin on full display and his legs were crossed in a way that made me want to scream. The sounds of heavy breathing came from his phone and I realized he was watching some inappropriate video.

Fury surged through me. I stormed in and demanded, “Who are you? Who let you into my room?”