After seven years of dating, Bradley Kane, who had never given me flowers before, sent me 9,999 roses and a set of lingerie for my birthday.

I happily posted about it on social media, only for his 'ideal woman' to comment underneath: [Some people can only pick up the trash I don't want.]

That's when I learned that he had bought a house for her, right below our marital home. The gifts he gave me were actually meant for her.

I personally delivered the flowers to them and caught them having a candlelit dinner together.

Bradley, without any hesitation, cursed at me, "Can you stop being so dirty-minded? Veronica and I are just discussing business. Besides, if there really was something between us, would you have even had the chance to marry me?"

In the past, I would have argued with him endlessly to get to the truth. But this time, I just casually tossed the flowers and my engagement ring at him and said calmly, "I wish you both happiness."

——

The ring rolled to Bradley's feet. He sneered and stepped on it, crushing both my dignity and love beneath his heel and harshly said, "If you want to marry me, change your suspicious and paranoid nature. Now stop getting in the way. We've got serious matters to discuss. Go home and reflect on yourself."

Listening to his familiar accusations, I felt an unexpected sense of peace.

After leaving Veronica's place, I posted the news of Bradley's infidelity in the family group chat, telling everyone I was calling off the engagement.

The man who never replied to my messages instantly posted a photo of his computer in the group, claiming: [Just handling work with a female subordinate.]

Then he expertly shifted the blame onto me, saying: [Yasmine, you don't need to throw a tantrum just because I didn't buy you that eight thousand wedding dress.]

[I never even brought up the fact that you used my credit card to drink at bars with male friends.]

The once-silent group chat suddenly erupted. My mother was the first to jump in, berating me with all sorts of vicious words, telling me I wasn't worthy of Bradley and demanding that I apologize to him.

She even threatened that if I missed out on such a good marriage, she would die to prove her point. Seeing this predictable outcome, I sighed softly and exited the group chat.

After my parents divorced, my mother became increasingly irritable. Growing up in such a stifling environment, I had been drawn to Bradley's seemingly gentle and polite demeanor.

But after seven years together, I realized that he was nothing like what he appeared to be. His kindness and patience were reserved for Veronica Jones.

His courtesy and respect were for strangers. With me, there was nothing but endless cold violence and hurtful, sarcastic remarks.

He was particularly skilled at provoking me into anger in front of others, watching me break down and cry, furiously questioning him, while he pretended to be the understanding one, generously offering forgiveness.

Everyone thought I was just an unreasonable, crazy woman. But this time, he had miscalculated.

Only those who are unwilling to let go cause a scene. A heart that has already withered will not be stirred by him again.

When Bradley returned with a wilted bouquet of roses, I was lying leisurely on the sofa, scrolling through my phone.

He scoffed, "Why haven't you cooked dinner? Still mad? Enough is enough. Haven't you always wanted me to buy you flowers? I got them, so stop sulking." He threw the wet roses in front of me.

I used to envy the girls walking down the street, holding fresh bouquets, their faces filled with happiness. I had mentioned it to Bradley many times, but he was always impatient.

He scolded me, "If I'd known you were such a vain woman, I wouldn't have gotten involved with you! It's not that I can't afford it, but Yasmine, do you, an unaccomplished housewife who only washes clothes and cooks, even deserve it?"

He accused me of being lazy and materialistic, conveniently forgetting that it was he who lured me into quitting my job with the promise of marriage.

In Bradley's eyes, I was only fit to be his maid. He was too stingy to buy me a single rose but had no problem gifting Veronica a house and a sea of flowers.

Just earlier, I saw a post on Veronica's social media. They had taken a rose petal bath together, laughing and playing in the tub.

After ruining those 9,999 roses, they picked out a few intact ones and brought them to me. I looked at the bouquet in disgust and kicked it away with my foot.

Then I lifted my gaze to Bradley and said seriously, "I don't like dirty, second-hand goods. I don't like dirty second-hand men even more."

Upon hearing my words, Bradley's face darkened immediately, he said, "Yasmine, what right do you have to talk to me like this? Don't forget, you're living in my house, I'm the one supporting you …"

I wanted to retort. In the seven years we'd been together, we always split expenses equally. Even after quitting my job, I used my own savings.

Before I could speak, the oven beeped. I was too tired to argue with him, so I put on gloves and took the cake out.

Bradley furrowed his brows as he stared at the cake for a while, then softened his tone, "Is today … your birthday?"

Today was my 30th birthday. It was also the seventh anniversary of being with Bradley. I had spent the whole day baking the cake by hand, hoping to celebrate together after he finished work.

Feeling guilty, Bradley took the initiative to find candles and set them on the cake for me and hurriedly said, "I've been really busy with work lately. I'll make it up to you. How about this afternoon I take you to pick out a new, bigger engagement ring?"

He sat down in front of me, his usual gentlemanly demeanor restored. "Yasmine, there's no need to be jealous of Veronica. We did have a relationship when we were young, but that was years ago and I've long since moved on," he said again.

Had he really moved on? I still remember when we hadn't been dating for long. I brought him lunch one day and overheard a conversation he was having with his friends.

They asked him why he was with me. He said, "Anyone is fine, as long as it's not Veronica."

Back then, I was young and proud, thinking that sincerity could overcome anything. Looking back now, I realize how wrong I was. I had made a mistake, one after another and now I had to get out before I lost everything.

I replied coldly, "No need. You go ahead, I'll handle it myself."

Bradley was stunned for a moment. But after years of me swallowing my pride, he had grown used to my submission.

He thought I was forgiving him once again and smiled as he lit the candles for me. "Make a wish," he said.

Every year before, my wish was for happiness and love with Bradley, for us to stay together forever. But this time, I silently wished: "I want to be happy and free from Bradley forever."

After making my wish, I opened my eyes, ready to blow out the candles. But I realized Bradley had already disappeared.

The cake I had spent six or seven hours making had been knocked to the floor. He walked in such a hurry that he not only knocked over the cake, but also failed to close the door in time.

After cleaning up the mess, I checked my phone.

Veronica had posted a new update: [I'm such a little clumsy girl, I was bumping into the cabinet while walking. Luckily, my Prince Charming is always there to protect me.]

In the comments, Bradley, who had ignored me even when I was in a car accident, wrote: [Whenever you need me, I'll be there for you.]

I liked the post. Moments later, I received a new message from Bradley: [Veronica hurt her foot. I'm taking her to the hospital. Come over and clean up her place.]

[And make some bone broth to bring to the hospital. Don't put cilantro in it.]

Suddenly, it all made sense. Bradley didn't have any dietary restrictions. But every time I added cilantro to a dish, he would explode, calling me a useless idiot who couldn't do anything right. It wasn't him who hated cilantro, it was Veronica.

I thought about ignoring his message, but after hesitating for a moment, I headed downstairs.

Bradley was holding Veronica, speaking to her softly. When he saw me, his face instantly hardened and said, "Why are you so late? If Veronica's treatment gets delayed …"

Veronica gently tugged at his sleeve and said, "Bradley, I'm fine. Don't be mad at Yasmine because of me. I know she's never liked me."

Bradley scolded me, "Enough, Yasmine. Clean this place up properly. I'm not going to marry a jealous woman who can't do anything right!" With that, he left with Veronica in his arms.

I watched his retreating figure and whispered, "I wouldn't marry a shameless, cheating man either."

After they left, I looked around the room. The bathroom was soaked with water and in the trash bin, there were two used condoms. A wave of nausea hit me.

No wonder Bradley had been working overtime so much lately. It turned out that he would spend some time with Veronica downstairs every day before returning home upstairs.

I glanced around Veronica's bedroom. It was filled with luxury brand items and expensive skincare products.

I still remembered how, just a few days ago, I had asked Bradley for a lipstick as a birthday present.

He had looked at me with utter disdain while said, "Thirty years old and you still have the nerve to celebrate? Are you trying to act young? Disgusting. Just stay home and do your chores. No amount of expensive makeup will make you twenty again."

I would never be twenty again. But Bradley never lacked twenty-year-old girls around him. His so-called 'ideal woman' Veronica, was probably just his favorite among them.

I took a deep breath and started taking pictures of everything in the room. Then I returned upstairs to pack my things.

In the seven years we had been together, Bradley had given me a few gifts. French kitchenware, a robot vacuum cleaner and a 'master-crafted' knife set. I decided to leave all these behind for him.

As I packed, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. Veronica's things downstairs filled the room. But in this place where I had lived for years, everything I owned could fit into one suitcase.

When I was done, I called my best friend, Merryl Jane, who was overseas. After three missed calls, she finally picked up.

I held back my tears and said, "Merryl, I was wrong. I shouldn't have given up my career and my life for Bradley. I regret it. I want to come find you."

Merryl called me a fool and said I deserved it before hanging up. I sat in the empty room, sadness overwhelming me.

Flashes of all the times she had tried to talk sense into me came to mind and I remembered the look of disappointment on her face when she left.

As the tears started falling, a new message popped up on my phone. Merryl had bought me the earliest available ticket. Three days from now, at noon.

The tears I had been holding back for so long finally burst out. Tears for myself and for the seven years I had wasted.

Bradley didn't come home that night. After I refused to cook for Veronica, he blocked my number.

I didn't bother dealing with him and took a trip back to my hometown to collect a few things from my childhood.

I had no idea what Bradley had told my mother. The moment I stepped off the bus, I saw her waiting at the door, eagerly looking around. Once she was sure Bradley hadn't come with me, her face darkened.

What she didn't know was that Bradley would never set foot here again. He had always looked down on me and my family from the very beginning.

My mom asked, "Haven't you two made up yet?"

"We're not going to," I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, my mother slapped me across the face. Half of my face immediately swelled up.

Still unsatisfied, she continued hitting me, just like when I was a child, in front of everyone passing by. She grabbed the wooden stick by the door and began beating me with it, hard and furious. One strike after another.

My mom started to accusing me, "Bradley told me everything. Finding a man as good as him is a blessing you've earned over several lifetimes and you still can't make the most of it? Jealous, living wildly, you're such a lowly person!"

"Let me tell you, no matter what it takes, begging, getting pregnant, you better find a way to marry Bradley, or don't bother coming back here!" she screamed.

Suddenly, a gust of cold wind blew and heavy rain began to pour. Only then did my mother stop. She blocked me from entering the house and threw my belongings out, one by one. She yelled, "Get out right now! Even if you die, you better die at Kane's house!"

One of my childhood trophies hit my forehead and blood mixed with rainwater trickled down my cheek.

I bent down, rummaging through the scattered items, trying to salvage memories from the past.

A Bentley slowly pulled up beside me. Bradley got out of the car, holding an umbrella with one hand while forcibly grabbing me with the other.

He dragged me into the car and said, "Yasmine, have you learned your lesson? No one in this world will ever love you except me. Be a good girl and come home. Apologize properly to Veronica and you'll still be the future Mrs. Kane."

He threw his coat over me and the distinct scent of Veronica's perfume hit me instantly.

I turned my head to look at the rain-blurred scenery outside the window, feeling utterly numb inside.

Once, I had considered Bradley my salvation, sharing my innermost thoughts and pains with him. But he had used those very pains to manipulate me. He had never been my refuge and he wasn't worth my love.

Only by leaving him and that so-called 'home' could I truly live a better life. While I was lost in thought, Bradley's phone rang.

"Bradley, why aren't you here yet? Everyone's waiting for you."

"They're all teasing me, saying how the company retreat can't just have the boss's wife attending while the boss himself is nowhere to be found. I'm running out of ways to respond …" a voice of a woman was heard.

Bradley shot me an awkward glance. He hesitated, wanting to leave me behind but realizing it wouldn't look right.

He said, "Yasmine, why don't you come along to the company retreat?" In the past, I was never allowed to set foot in Bradley's company.

Even when I brought him meals, I had to wait outside for his assistant to come out so as not to disturb his work. This was an unprecedented 'gift' from him.

I took out a tissue to wipe the blood from my forehead and slowly responded, "Okay."