Chapter 1
On Thanksgiving, James drove me home as usual, but once again he chose the longest highway.
For one reason only: it passed through the city where the parents of a younger classmate of his from college lived.
During our five-year relationship, he didn't just send gifts to her parents on every major holiday.
He also ate with them, took walks with them, and even accompanied them to their doctor's appointments—handling everything himself.
By the time he finally arrived at my house, Thanksgiving was long over.
He would always rush through a meal with my parents, then hurry me out the door with him that same night.
I threw countless fits over this, but he would only scold me impatiently, "Nina is a younger classmate of mine from college. I've known her for years. What's wrong with helping her family?"
This year, just as he went upstairs, I overheard the neighbors gossiping.
"Hasn't Nina broken things off with that man yet?"
"How could she? He goes way out of his way every year just to spend Thanksgiving with her."
"His poor girlfriend. She still thinks Nina is just a younger classmate of his from college."
I stiffened and looked up.
On the balcony, Nina—who was supposed to be just a younger classmate of his from college—was hugging James from behind.
Then he turned around, leaned down, and kissed her.
So he had gone to celebrate the holiday with the woman he loved first, and only visited my parents out of obligation.
I turned and left. He had missed my Thanksgiving, and from now on, he would never have to spend another one with me.
*****
When I got home, 4 hours had already passed.
My parents were sitting in the living room. When they saw me, their faces lit up with surprise and joy.
My mother hurriedly wiped her hands on her apron and stood on her tiptoes to look out the door.
"Why are you back so early? Where's James?"
I looked down and lit up my phone screen.
No messages. No calls.
For 4 whole hours, James hadn't even noticed that I had left.
A sudden pang shot through my stomach.
When we left this morning, he was in such a rush that I didn't even eat breakfast.
I was so hungry on the way that I could barely stand it. Just as I was about to open the box of pastries in the back seat to tide me over, he slapped my hand away.
"These are for Nina's mother to try. Don't touch them."
Back then, I thought he was just being thoughtful toward an old college friend's mother.
Now I understood that those pastries were clearly Nina's favorites.
Even if I was starving, I didn't deserve to touch anything she liked.
"It's good that you're back. Why should you care about him?" my father said testily.
My mother glared at him and turned to go into the kitchen.
"You must be starving, right? Mom will cook for you."
I wanted to follow her to help, but my father pressed me down onto a chair.
"Just sit and wait. The kitchen is full of grease and smoke. Don't get your clothes dirty."
Even though they were so tired that they could barely straighten their backs, they still couldn't bear to let me do any work.
My eyes stung. I hurriedly looked down to scroll through i********:, trying to hold back my tears, but I accidentally opened a video.
In the video, a man stood in front of the stove, expertly flipping a wok.
The caption below read: Because I wanted to try every dish, he learned to cook for me.
Even though his face wasn't shown, I recognized James at a glance.
With trembling hands, I clicked on the profile.
Grilled steaks, beef stews, pan-seared salmon... He'd been posting those videos on and off for five whole years.
It turned out that for the past five years, he had been cooking for another woman.
Yet, as his girlfriend, I had been completely in the dark.
Last Christmas, my mother hurt her hand, and my father was busy taking care of her.
I prepared the Christmas dinner all by myself. My back was aching from the exhaustion, so I asked James to give me a hand.
He either knocked over the seasonings or broke the plates.
In the end, he shrugged helplessly.
"I'm naturally bad at cooking. Don't make things hard for me."
It turned out it wasn't that he couldn't cook.
It was just that my parents and I didn't deserve to eat the food he cooked.
Tears fell onto the screen, and I couldn't hold them back.
My mother hurried over.
"Did you argue with James again because you wanted to come back for the holiday?"
My father sighed.
"If he doesn't want to come, then forget it. Don't tire yourself out traveling back and forth in the future. We're fine."
But how could they really be fine with it?
Before we started dating, James had personally promised to spend Independence Day with his parents and Thanksgiving with mine.
Over the past five years, he had never once returned on time. Even when I wanted to stay and chat with my parents a little longer, he would urge me to leave.
"We're running out of time. I have to work tomorrow."
Yet every time he spent the holiday with Nina's parents, I had to wait in the car from dawn until dusk.
Later, he said visiting my parents was too much trouble.
My visits home went from once a month to once every three months, and eventually, only on holidays.
Now, even though my parents were looking forward to my return, they had to suppress their disappointment and comfort me instead, saying it was fine.
I squeezed my mother's rough hand, and my tears finally fell.
"It won't be like this anymore."
I looked up and said, word for word, "Since James doesn't want to come for the holidays, he doesn't have to come ever again."
Meeting my parents' bewildered gazes, I wiped away my tears.
"I'm going to break up with him."
