My girlfriend's lie

Chapter 2

The cramps in my stomach grew fiercer with each wave. I gripped the cold marble countertop, my knuckles white, just to keep myself from sliding to the floor.

The face in the mirror was as pale as a ghost.

Rainwater, humiliation, and seven years of my life churned into a thick, sticky paste that clogged my throat.

I suddenly remembered this wasn't the first time Du Wanning had treated me this way.

The downpour washed over my memory, pulling me back to another rainy night two years ago.

That day, I had a stomachache too, curled up in bed in my rented apartment, writhing in pain.

My phone pinged. It was Du Wanning.

“I forgot my ear pick. Bring it over.”

It wasn't a question. It was a command.

I could almost picture her, lying on the sofa, bored, filing her freshly manicured nails as she typed.

Back then, we had only just started living together.

I glanced at the heavy rain lashing against the window, hesitated for only a second, then swung my legs out of bed.

Maybe her ear was bothering her. Maybe she needed it urgently.

I wrapped her favorite little wooden ear pick in layer after layer of a plastic bag, tucked it inside my jacket, and charged into the rain on my second-hand electric scooter.

The raindrops pelted my face, stinging. The wind shot down my collar, chilling me to the bone.

I had only one thought: faster, even faster. Don't keep her waiting.

It was a fifteen-minute ride, but I rode as if my life depended on it.

When I finally arrived downstairs, I was soaked to the bone. A complete mess, I ran upstairs and knocked on our door.

The door opened.

Du Wanning stood there in a silk nightgown, smelling sweetly of her recent shower. She frowned, her gaze falling to the small puddle of water forming at my feet. Her eyes held a look of disdain that I couldn't comprehend at the time.

She didn't ask if I was cold. She didn't offer me a towel.

She held out her hand. Her first words were, “The ear pick? It didn't get wet, did it?”

I froze. The little bit of warmth I’d been nursing inside my jacket was instantly extinguished by her words.

From the inner pocket of my drenched jacket, I carefully pulled out the plastic bag and handed it to her.

She took it, unwrapped it to inspect the contents, and only after confirming that the ear pick was perfectly dry did she let out a sigh of relief, a flicker of satisfaction on her face.

“Alright, you can come in. Mop up the floor.”

She turned away matter-of-factly, tossing the ear pick onto the entryway cabinet as if I hadn't delivered a lifeline, but just a takeout order that was supposed to arrive on time.

I stood in the doorway, rainwater dripping from the ends of my hair, creating small, spreading ripples on the foyer floor.

The churning in my stomach mixed with the ache in my heart, creating a tidal wave of misery.

I remember I had a bank card in my pocket that day, holding the project bonus I had just received. I had planned to wait until she was in a good mood to tell her that we were one step closer to making a down payment on a home.

I even wanted to talk to her about the promise we'd made to get married by the time we were twenty-eight.

But in that moment, all those plans and dreams got stuck in my throat.

Watching her act so entitled, I suddenly felt like a clown.

A clown who had braved a storm and endured a stomachache just to deliver a trivial ear pick.

It turned out that what I saw as a desperate act of devotion, she saw as nothing more than my duty.

Looking back now, the signs were all there, starting from that rainy night.

But I had been deceiving myself, covering my own eyes.

The ear pick, and this gift box I know nothing about today—what's the difference?

Me, Xiao Tong, in her life—in Du Wanning's life—perhaps I've never been anything more than an errand boy.

The only difference is that I used to be her boyfriend. Now, I'm just her “little brother.”