I’d been in a secret relationship with my roommate’s CEO cousin for three years. Today, he hit me with some news. “My cousin is bringing her boyfriend of three years to meet her parents in a bit.” Then he clapped me on the back. “Hey, when are you going to bring your little girlfriend around for me to meet?” I had no idea how to answer him. I mumbled an excuse and escaped to the balcony, dialing his cousin’s number. She hung up on me. When I turned around, my girlfriend was standing in the doorway, her arm linked with another man’s. The smile on her face vanished the second she saw me. “What are you doing in my house?” 1 The question snapped out of her, sharp and accusatory. Every eye in the room turned to me. Realizing her mistake, Isabella’s tone softened. “Matt, what a surprise. I thought you were still on your business trip.” Under the curious gaze of her entire family, I froze for a second before managing a bitter smile, forcing myself to play along. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. So, this is what it felt like to be a secret. The one who couldn’t be seen in the light. A thousand questions were screaming in my head, but seeing her there, so composed, I lost the will to ask any of them. Suddenly, the whole charade just felt pointless. “Just got back,” I said, my voice steady. “Didn’t have a chance to notify you, Ms. Jiang.” My compliance seemed to satisfy her. The tension in her face eased. Dinner was a masterclass in performance art, a perfect family gathering. I feigned an instant camaraderie with Isabella’s boyfriend, Leo. We clinked glasses, traded stories, and exchanged contact information. I didn’t say a single word to Isabella all night. After dinner, I went home alone. I sat on the sofa, the image replaying in my mind: Isabella on Leo’s arm, proudly introducing him to her parents as her boyfriend. It was everything I had ever dreamed of for us. I had wanted her to make us public, to take me home to meet her parents. I would have told them I’d spend my life cherishing her, protecting her from any harm. Instead, I was a rat, scurrying in the shadows. I sat there until midnight, when Isabella finally came home. This should have been the moment the dam broke. Our fights always followed the same pattern: a tense quiet, then accusations, shouting, excuses, blame, and finally, the cold shoulder. But tonight, I felt nothing. The energy for the fight was gone. It all felt meaningless. After changing her shoes, she must have noticed my unnerving silence. For once, she spoke first. “I only brought Leo to meet them because my parents have been pressuring me to get married. He was just doing me a favor, playing the part for a day to get them off my case.” “Mm,” I said, acknowledging I’d heard her. I offered nothing else. By all accounts, my response was perfectly reasonable. But a second later, she was the one who was angry. The impatience in her voice was so sharp it made me look up. “Matt, I just explained everything to you. What is with this attitude?” Her words churned in my mind, a rising vortex of frustration. I couldn't stop myself. “You asked your assistant to work overtime to play your boyfriend? Why didn’t you just ask me? I’m your actual boyfriend!” “Because you would have embarrassed me in front of them!” The words hung in the air. She ripped her purse from her shoulder and threw it at me before storming into the bedroom. The door slammed with enough force to shake the frame. The bag was a gift from Leo. A discounted Coach bucket bag from an outlet mall, yet she carried it everywhere. She’d shield it from the rain with her own body. The Chanel Classic Flap I’d bought her? Leo had taken one look at it, declared it a fake, and she’d slashed it with scissors and thrown it in the trash. The difference between being loved and not being loved was so painfully obvious. And the joke was on me, for refusing to see it for so long. Her words just now, spoken in the heat of anger, were the unvarnished truth. She thought I wasn't good enough for her. And maybe she was right. I met her in college, and because of her, I didn’t return to my own family after graduation. I went to work for her company. She was the CEO of Astra Group. In everyone else's eyes, I was just some leech who got a job through connections, living off her. I was an embarrassment. Leo, on the other hand, was her perfect match—her equal, someone who made her look good. It didn’t matter that I had spent three years dedicating myself to her, catering to her every whim. I could never compete with him. It was time to end this three-year farce. I pulled a spare duvet from the closet and spent the night in the study. For the first time in a long time, I slept soundly. The next morning, I packed my work bag and left for the office. As I was leaving our complex, I got a call from the dealership. “Mr. Shaw? Your car service is complete. When would you like to pick it up?” Last month, Isabella had lent my car to Leo without asking. When he’d returned it last week, he casually mentioned a few new scratches. I’d wanted to confront him, but Isabella had defended him, so I’d let it go and sent the car in for a tune-up. I arrived at the dealership a short while later. The manager handed me the keys with a knowing, conspiratorial smile. He gestured to a small gift bag with the dealership’s logo sitting on the passenger seat. “Hey, kid, we put everything back in the bag for you. I get it, you’re young, but maybe try to control yourselves a bit. And next time, probably best to clear out your valuables before you bring it in for service. It was a little awkward for my mechanics.” Confused, I walked over and opened the bag. Inside was a set of risqué lingerie and a pair of nipple covers adorned with tiny bells. There was only one conclusion to draw about how those items ended up in my car. And I had never, not once, done anything like that with Isabella in my car. Which meant it was her. And Leo. 2 There was no questioning, no anger. I wasn't even surprised. I removed the dashcam’s memory card and turned to the manager. “Do you buy used cars?” “We certainly do, sir!” I didn’t haggle. We quickly settled on a price, and I took a cab to the office. The moment I sat down at my desk, I heard the women at the next cubicle whispering. “Did you hear? The CEO and that assistant are totally a thing.” “I knew it! I heard she personally recruited Leo and offered him a huge salary!” “Of course she did. They were college classmates. I saw them at a bar together just last night!” Hearing it confirmed still sent a shard of ice through my heart. So that’s how it was. I numbly opened my laptop, but the blank document stared back at me. I couldn’t type a single word. “Matt!” Isabella’s voice cut through the air from behind me. “You’re an hour late. I’m marking you as absent for the day.” As if to cut off any argument, she added, “I checked your time card. Exactly one hour. According to company policy…” “Okay.” I nodded, my gaze still fixed on the screen, trying to figure out how to start the document. My calm acceptance seemed to take her by surprise. She lingered by my desk, her shadow falling over my keyboard, blocking the light. I looked up, confused. “Is there something else, Ms. Jiang?” She crossed her arms, looking down at me with a scrutinizing glare. “Matt, don't you have anything to say for yourself?” I was genuinely baffled. I thought for a moment. “I was late. That’s a fact. You’re following company policy, which is your right. I don’t see what there is to explain. I don’t have any excuses.” My straightforwardness seemed to disarm her. Her face darkened, but she turned and walked away without another word. Soon, I was lost in my work, and the hours flew by. When I finally finished and took off my headphones, I looked up to find the entire office was empty. It was 11:30 PM. I cursed my work buddies for not even giving me a heads-up they were leaving. Just then, I heard the click of high heels behind me. Isabella tossed an empty takeout container in the trash and casually sat down in the chair next to mine. “Why didn’t you answer my messages?” I opened my laptop and saw that she had indeed messaged me. “Help me pick out some parts. Which of these CPUs, motherboards, and graphics cards are best for AAA gaming?” “And what’s a good setup for RGB lighting in the case? Is liquid cooling better or air cooling?” She knew I was an expert on this stuff; it was my bread and butter. A year ago, I had mentioned to her that I wanted a new high-end Intel processor for my own work. It wasn’t a hint for a gift; it was a test. She’d been hot and cold with me, and I wanted to see if I still mattered. Her response then had been sharp with annoyance. “You’ve been out of college for two years, Matt! You’re not a student anymore. Stop thinking about video games and focus on your job!” I had tried to explain that a CPU was different from a graphics card, and that for my work, the processor was the priority. She hadn’t listened. Now, I quickly put together a list of top-tier components and sent it to her. She was delighted. After placing the order, she grabbed my arm, and we left the office. On the drive home, I sat in the back, running diagnostics on a program on my laptop. I mindlessly scrolled through my social media feed. The first post was from Leo. A nine-photo grid with the caption: “Mentioned it once, and it appeared. I feel so loved.” The photos were of the top-of-the-line gaming setup Isabella had just ordered. I liked the post and left a simple comment. “Wishing you both the best.” A moment later, Isabella’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, and the car screeched to a halt on the side of the road. She whipped around, her eyes blazing. “So I bought him a gaming PC, so what? What’s with the passive-aggressive comment on his post?” “Fine! I’ll buy you one, too! I’ll buy you anything you want, is that what you want to hear?” I was annoyed. The sudden stop had made my hand slip on the keyboard, interrupting the diagnostic that was almost finished. Now I had to start all over again. But I had no interest in fighting. I sighed, restarted the program, and said calmly, “I wasn’t being passive-aggressive. It was a sincere comment. You don’t need to be so sensitive.” Her face was a thundercloud. She reached back and slammed my laptop shut. “Is this still because I asked Leo to pretend to be my boyfriend? You’ve been holding a grudge since yesterday!” “Is this fun for you, Matt? Instead of thanking Leo for helping me, you go and leave sarcastic comments on his posts.” “And don’t think for a second that just because you’re younger, I’m going to baby you. If you want to throw a tantrum, go home to your parents. Don’t expect me to put up with it! Know your place!” “Keep this up, and we’re done!” Her voice was laced with threats and fury. In the past, I would have immediately backed down, begging her for forgiveness. But now? I was just tired. All I wanted was to finish running my program before the code corrupted. I just nodded. “Okay. I get it. You can keep driving now.” I have no idea which word set her off, but she screamed at me again. “Get out!” I looked at her for a second, then grabbed my laptop and got out of the car. I really didn't want to fight with her. One more second and her road rage might have gotten us both killed. The moment I was out, she floored it, peeling away into the night. I watched the taillights disappear and thought about the past. Her mood swings used to send me into a panic, making me constantly question what I’d done wrong to upset her. I just wanted her to be happy, but with me, she was a storm of unpredictability. I always assumed it was my fault and was always the first to apologize. But not this time. I just sat on the curb, laptop open, desperately trying to salvage my work. Then I pulled out my phone, called a car, and booked a luxury suite at the nearest five-star hotel. 3 Another night of perfect sleep. The first thing I did when I woke up was check my program. Thank god. It ran perfectly. After showering and having breakfast at the hotel, I saw a new message from Isabella. “All the parts are arriving today. Don’t leave after work. Go to Leo’s place and build the computer for him.” I scrolled up. The seller had sent an installation guide with a mockup of the finished computer, including a custom-etched LED panel for the case. The design was a piece of custom art Isabella must have commissioned. The irony was so thick I almost laughed. I was a software developer, not a professional PC builder. I typed up my resignation letter, went to the office, and handed it to HR. The moment I did, a massive weight lifted from my shoulders. Even the stale office air felt fresh. I worked until closing time, packed up my personal laptop, and prepared to leave for the last time. An unwelcome figure blocked my path. Isabella, her face a mask of displeasure. I tried to walk around her, but she grabbed my arm. “Matt, where do you think you’re going?” Her sharp tone made heads turn. I pointed at the clock on the wall, my voice laced with confusion. “Home? It’s quitting time.” Her voice was ice. “Quitting time? The entire project department is still here working. What makes you think you can leave?” “My work is done. Why should I work overtime?” As my coworkers stared in shock, I turned to leave, Isabella’s angry shouts echoing behind me. “Matt! If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back tomorrow!” I ignored her and called a cab. Back at the apartment, I pulled out a suitcase and started packing. It didn’t take long. Everything I owned fit into a single suitcase. The bulkiest items were my desktop computer and my two monitors. After arranging for a courier to ship my things, I booked a red-eye flight to New York. I left my key on the shoe cabinet. A second later, my phone rang. It was Isabella. “My clothes are dirty. Bring me a change.” She hung up before I could reply. A location pin followed. I grabbed the gift bag from the dealership. Twenty minutes later, I was standing outside the door of a private room at a high-end club. The door was slightly ajar. As I reached for the handle, I heard my name. “Isabella, I thought you were just messing around with Matt. Why haven’t you dumped him yet?” “It’s been three years! Don’t tell me you actually fell for him? Leo came all the way back for you!” Isabella’s reply dripped with scorn. “How could I fall for a kid like Matt? He’s annoying as hell. But I will admit one thing.” “What? What is it?” her friends chimed in. Her voice was smug. “These past few years, as clingy and irritating as he is, he’s been completely obedient. He waits on me hand and foot. He’s like a well-trained puppy. I can forgive a little whining now and then.” “Oh, and he’s a ridiculously hard worker. Never slacks off, always takes on extra tasks. For one person’s salary, I get the output of three. Where else am I going to find such a useful workhorse?” The room filled with laughter. “So, Isabella, who are you going to marry? Him or Leo?” “Yeah, we’re all shipping you and Leo! You can’t break up our favorite couple!” Isabella laughed. “What does marriage matter? Marriage is one thing, love is another. If we’re talking about marriage, Matt’s honestly the more suitable choice. He can cook, clean, and he works his ass off.” That’s when I pushed the door open. The lively atmosphere froze. Isabella saw me, and a flicker of panic crossed her face, quickly replaced by annoyance. She said, with a casual wave of her hand, “See? Told you he’d be here in a flash.” Dozens of eyes were on me, all wearing the same expression: they were waiting for the punchline of a joke. I tossed the bag onto the table in front of her. She glanced at it. “I told you to bring clothes. What’s this tiny bag from a car dealership going to hold?” I smiled faintly. “I sold the car. They gave me the bag as a thank you gift.” Someone immediately jumped to her defense. “Matt, are you insane? Why would you sell your car? Did Isabella even say you could?” I snorted. “My car got dirty, so I sold it. What’s it got to do with Isabella? It’s not like she bought it for me.” “And it does have your clothes in it. The ones Leo personally took off you.” “Honestly, you two. You’re grown adults. Couldn’t you get a room? You just had to do it in my car. Do you need me to play the dashcam footage to jog your memory?”
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