He Betrayed Me, I Count Down To Leave

That pair of custom platinum wedding bands had been lying in the velvet gift box for two whole months. Today, exactly twenty days before our three-year anniversary, I finally made up my mind to give them to him. Who says a proposal has to be the boy getting down on one knee? I spent four hours in the kitchen simmering a pot of fish maw and chicken soup, carefully skimming off the fat before pouring it into a thermos. Over these three years, this was how I had slowly nursed Philip's stomach problems back to health. Back then, to accompany him in his startup venture, I quit my high-paying job at a multinational corporation. I went from being a glamorous senior planner to a "virtuous helpmate" who could both help him revise his BP (business plan) and stay up half the night to make him soup. Fortunately, the company had recently finally secured Series C funding. We had made it through the hardest days. "Chloe, once the company goes public, I will definitely give you the grandest wedding," he had promised me just last week. Filled with joy from this promise, I didn't notify him in advance. Instead, I went straight to the company carrying the thermos. I wanted to give him a surprise. When he opened the lunchbox, I would take out the rings hidden in my apron pocket and tell him: "No need to wait for the IPO, let's do it right now." It was lunch break, and the company was very quiet. Most of the employees had gone downstairs to eat, and the only sound in the hallway was the faint hum of the central air conditioning. I walked a familiar path to the CEO's office door. The door wasn't shut tight, leaving a narrow c***k, and a slat or two of the blinds weren't completely closed either. I was just about to raise my hand to knock when I heard a strange sound coming from inside. It was urgent, deliberately suppressed yet undeniably sweet panting, mixed with the sound of fabric rubbing against the edge of the desk. "Philip... gentler, the door isn't closed..." The woman's voice was very soft, carrying a hint of coquettishness. I recognized that voice; it was the new little secretary, Nora, who was just hired last month. She was a recent college grad with big eyes, who always liked running around the office in tight miniskirts. "What are you afraid of? No one will come here during lunch break." Philip's voice was deep and husky. It was a voice I couldn't be more familiar with—the voice of his arousal that used to belong solely to me. The handle of the thermos dug a deep red mark into my palm, but I didn't feel the pain. Through the c***k in the blinds, I saw the white shirt scattered on the dark carpet—the one I had personally ironed for him before he left the house this morning. There was also Nora's red silk slip dress, the one I had even complimented her on this morning, now hanging over the back of a chair. My feet felt like they were nailed to the spot, and my heart seemed to stop beating in that moment. I thought I would act like the original wife in TV dramas—kick the door open and pour the boiling hot chicken soup all over the two naked, entangled scumbags; or at the very least, I would cry and demand to know why he was doing this to me. But I didn't. I just stood outside that door, listening quietly. Listening to how he used the same voice that called me "baby" to coax another woman; listening to the satisfied low pants coming from the mouth that had told me "I only love you." Separated by a single wall, inside the door was a sea of lust and indulgence; outside the door, my three years of youth came crashing down. It felt like a blunt knife was slowly cutting into my chest. There was no bleeding, but the pain made even breathing feel like a luxury. Tears swirled in my eyes, but I bit my lower lip so hard I tasted blood, forcefully forcing the tears back. The commotion inside gradually subsided, followed by the rustling sound of clothes being put on. "Are you going to stay and work overtime with me tonight?" Nora asked coquettishly. "Not tonight. I promised Chloe I'd go back for dinner." Philip's tone had already returned to its usual elite professional self. "Her appetite hasn't been good lately, I have to go check on her." Even when cheating, he didn't forget to maintain the facade of a deeply affectionate, good boyfriend. I suddenly felt disgusted. It wasn't the kind of despair that pierced the heart, but a pure, physical nausea. I took a step back, turned around, lightened my footsteps, and went back the way I came. I didn't alert anyone, as if I had never been there at all. Walking out of the front door of the office building, the sunlight outside stung my eyes so much I couldn't open them. I walked over to the trash can on the corner of the street and pulled the velvet gift box containing the wedding bands out of my pocket. A few hours ago, it had carried all my expectations and fantasies about the future. I opened the gift box, looked at the two rings sparkling in the sunlight, and then let go. With a "clack," the sixty-thousand-yuan pair of rings, along with the box of chicken soup I had simmered for four hours, were ruthlessly thrown by me into the trash can reeking of sour rot. Just then, the phone in my pocket vibrated. I numbly took out my phone. Philip's WeChat message popped up on the screen: "Baby, how come you didn't bring me food today? I'm so hungry."