While I was fighting over discount groceries at the supermarket, Mark was dropping a fortune on jewelry for his secretary. He gave me the freebie that came with it as an anniversary gift. I looked at the pile of discounted groceries on the table and the necklace marked 'promotional item.' While I was nearly dying from an allergic reaction, Mark was fussing over his secretary's paper cut. Later, I wore a wedding dress and married my childhood friend. Mark, however, choked back tears and asked, "Didn't you say you wouldn't marry anyone but me?" 1 The night Mark didn't come home again, I finally didn't call him. Usually, I'd complain and then call him again and again, urging him to come back. At first, Mark would just say, "Be right there." Later, he got annoyed when I asked too much. "I just don't want to come back. Seeing you looking like such a mess ruins my appetite." I started spiraling, buying tons of makeup to hide how tired I looked. Instead, my face broke out like crazy. When Mark saw it, his expression was pure mockery. "Ugh, Sarah, you look awful. Trying too hard just makes it worse." I unpinned his chat from the top of my contacts list. Mark came home. He reeked of alcohol, and underneath it, the unmistakable smell of someone else's cheap perfume. "Sarah, you're getting lazier. You didn't even make dinner." I looked at Mark, exhausted. "Have you even looked at the time?" The clock on the wall showed midnight. Mark was momentarily speechless, maybe feeling a flicker of guilt. "It was Megan's birthday today, so things ran a little late." Megan was the new secretary, the darling of their department, spoiled since she was a kid. She and Mark were inseparable. They'd often share food off the same plate, sip from the same drink. They'd even crashed on the same couch sometimes. I often asked them to keep their distance, reminding them we were engaged. At first, Mark listened and kept some distance, but eventually, he just stopped caring. "If Megan hadn't gone abroad back then, do you think you'd even have a chance with me?" And somehow, Megan found out about this. At parties, Megan would sometimes bring the conversation around to me. "Sarah, see? I'm not getting too close to Mark." "Mark, you shouldn't come to karaoke with us. Sarah will just accuse me of flirting with you again." Megan's words always made Mark's face darken instantly. He increasingly felt like I was tearing him and his "best buddy" apart. Soon, rumors spread through our circle: Mark's girlfriend was a control freak, a total psycho. Mark never defended me, not once. It was as if that's just who I was. Seeing my indifferent expression now, that tiny bit of guilt in Mark vanished instantly. He slammed his mug down on the table, shattering it on the floor. "Who do you think you're giving that attitude to, Sarah?" The ceramic exploded near my feet, fragments flying up and hitting my face. Stinging cuts appeared. That mug was a gift from Mark when we first moved in together. Back then, his company hadn't taken off yet. He wasn't Mr. Thompson, the boss. He was just Mark. His voice choked with emotion, he had said, "I will never let you down." Later, he could afford endless mugs, but he was also short on genuine feelings. Seeing the blood on my face, Mark sobered up instantly. Guilt over coming home late and cheating finally surfaced. "Sarah, are you okay? I just got a little worked up." I didn't say anything, just wiped the blood from my face with my hand. Mark, uncharacteristically, fumbled for a Band-Aid. My heart warmed for a second, only to plummet the next. 2 "This is Megan's Band-Aid. You're always picking on her, but see how nice she still is to you?" "Can't you learn from her? Stop being so petty." So, all along, he thought I was petty, jealous of his little girl crush. I felt the cuts sting, and red patches started appearing all over my face. "What's in the Band-Aid?" Mark wasn't used to my sharp tone and faltered slightly. "Uh, I think it's peach scented." "Megan knows I'm allergic to peaches." How could she not know? Once, Megan deliberately gave me a dress for a party. She'd secretly rubbed peach fuzz inside it. I didn't notice anything until the party started. My whole body turned red, my face swelled up like a balloon. Mark thought I did it on purpose just to embarrass him. He looked at me, writhing in allergic agony, with nothing but contempt. "Figures. Straight out of the sticks. Can't even handle a simple party." "She's really punching way above her weight being with me." Megan, meanwhile, put on her best pitiful act. "Mark, maybe Sarah didn't like the dress I gave her? She looks really unwell." Of course, Mark wouldn't let Megan feel the slightest bit wronged. "Uncultured thing. You're just embarrassing me." My throat was swelling shut. I wanted to say something, but couldn't get a word out. I knew Mark wouldn't believe me anyway. Finally, I was taken to the hospital. As I was being helped out, Megan whispered in my ear. "I know you're allergic to peach fuzz. I did it on purpose." "That's what you get for stealing Mark. It's karma." Someone who hates you will stoop to anything to hurt you, while the person who supposedly loves you doesn't even know your allergies. Eventually, a shred of guilt must have pricked Mark, because he drove me to the hospital. The car was full of traces of another woman. A pink Hello Kitty keychain, the scent of gardenia perfume, even a half-eaten bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos on the floor. Mark was a notorious neat freak. Once, I ate a Snickers bar in his car because my blood sugar was low. He kicked me out immediately. "You got crumbs all over the car! Are you disgusting?" It was below freezing, maybe 20 degrees Fahrenheit. I walked for almost an hour in a thin sweater before I could get a cab. I went home with a raging fever. And Mark just said: "So I made you walk a couple of miles? Do you have to be so dramatic?" Mark noticed me looking at the car's interior and seemed a bit sheepish. "Megan's always forgetting things. I'll give them back to her later." My head was pounding from the allergic reaction, and I didn't have the energy to listen to his excuses. Suddenly, Mark's phone buzzed. He snatched it up immediately. His face lit up with undisguised joy. "Megan? How are you?" "Okay, okay, I'm coming right over. Stay right there, don't move." He hung up. The car speeded up abruptly, the inertia making me feel even sicker. "Megan cut her hand. I need to go check on her." Mark didn't drive to the hospital. He parked downstairs from Megan's apartment. I watched him go upstairs, feeling my breathing get heavier and heavier. I stared at the lights in Megan's apartment until they went out. He never came back down. In that instant, despair washed over me completely. The Mark who promised to always protect me died that night. With my last ounce of strength, I dialed a number I hadn't called in far too long. "Help me." 3 When Liam got me to the hospital, I was covered in hives from the allergic reaction, nearly dead from anaphylactic shock. I was unconscious for a long time before slowly waking up. "Liam." The boyishness was gone from the man before me, replaced by maturity. Seeing me awake, he looked relieved, but his words were laced with sarcasm. "You really love making things hard for yourself, don't you? Why did you have to stick by that guy while he was building his empire from scratch?" "Isn't everyone in our family loaded? Was there any need to suffer like that?" I had been rebellious, refusing to let my parents arrange my life, so I ran off with Mark. I supported him as he started with nothing, only to end up like this. Just as I was about to thank him, Mark called. "Sarah, where the hell are you? Didn't make breakfast? Didn't iron my shirt?" "When did you get so lazy?" Liam, beside me, frowned deeply. He seemed shocked that the person Sarah ran away for was this guy. "I'm in the hospital. Hire a housekeeper." Mark on the other end seemed to remember abandoning me, allergic and alone, in the car the other night. His voice turned hesitant. "Okay, uh, I'll have Sam bring you some soup. I'll pick you up this afternoon?" I could hear Megan in the background. "It's all my fault. I'm the reason Sarah's in the hospital." Megan's cloying voice completely erased any guilt or concern Mark might have felt for me. "She's just being dramatic. It's just an allergic reaction. What's the big deal?" Yeah, just an allergic reaction. But if Liam had been just a little later, I could have died from shock. "This is the guy you chose? Total idiot." He was still as blunt as ever, but I didn't have the strength to argue. Everything he said was true. At noon, Sam brought me some snacks and drinks. Mark checked my social media all afternoon and saw nothing. He called again. "Did you get the stuff I sent? Why didn't you post about it?" After all, I used to post pictures of everything he gave me, showing the world how happy I was. Until the day I overheard Mark saying dismissively: "Sarah's such a hick. Gets excited over such small things she has to post them." "Women with no class are so easy to please." So that's what he really thought of me. I replied flatly. "Saw it. Didn't feel the need." I hung up. Surprisingly, Mark actually showed up on time that afternoon to pick me up. With Megan. He was never on time before, usually making me wait an hour or two, then fobbing me off with "work was busy." Megan sat in the front passenger seat, looking smug. "Sarah, Mark and I just ran into each other. You don't mind me sitting up front, right?" The old me would have definitely thrown a fit, demanding why Megan was in the passenger seat. I couldn't be bothered arguing. I just got in the back. Mark sensed my low mood and, for once, actually offered an explanation. "Ran into her after work. Just giving her a lift." Just as Mark was about to start the car, a pair of long legs slid into the back seat next to me. Liam leaned close. "Hey sis, don't leave me behind." Then, addressing the front seats: "Hi there. I'm Liam, Sarah's childhood friend." 3 Mark's face turned green. He had no idea I had a childhood friend. After all, I always told people I was an orphan, with no one to rely on. "Since when do you have a childhood friend? How come I never knew?" I didn't answer directly. "I told you before. You probably forgot." "You can have your childhood friend, why can't I have mine?" My counter-question caught Mark off guard. He fell silent. But Megan wouldn't miss this opportunity. She started chatting with Mark about their childhood memories again. Usually, they'd be deep in conversation in the car, making me feel like an outsider. But now, Mark was still annoyed about what I'd just said, so he completely ignored Megan. Megan looked awkward. Suddenly, she seemed to remember something. "Mark gave me a necklace the other day. Easily worth seven figures." She glanced pointedly at my neck. "Yours is the freebie that came with it, right, Sarah?" I touched my neck, my heart sinking. That morning, I'd been so pleased I managed to snag those discount groceries, thinking I got a great deal. Turns out, Mark had casually dropped a fortune on Megan. Seven figures. How long would it take me to save that much? Mark spent it without a second thought. I looked at the promotional necklace he gave me for our anniversary. I thought maybe Mark was finally changing his ways, but it turned out to be just as worthless as he thought I was. When we finally got home, Mark immediately started yelling. "How can you be such a slut, always hitting on guys?" "Do you really think I believe your crap? How could he possibly be your childhood friend?" After listening, I didn't answer his question, just shot back: "You can hang out with your childhood pal to cure your loneliness, but I can't see mine?" "Why is it okay for you but not for me?" My rapid-fire questions left Mark speechless. He rarely saw me this angry. "Let's break up." My next words made Mark even angrier. "Sarah, you've got some nerve now, huh? You dare break up with me? For some pretty boy?" "He's just after your money right now! If you leave me, you're broke! Who's gonna want you then?" I laughed bitterly. So that's how Mark saw me all along. He thought I was only with him for his money. But what about when he had nothing, and I was willing to run away with him? What was that then? My eyes reddened. It felt like I was truly seeing this man for the first time in years. I turned and went back to the bedroom to start packing. In the bedroom trash can, I saw a used condom. And in the closet, some sexy lingerie that definitely wasn't mine. I hadn't been home for a few days. It was obvious whose these were. I showed these items to Mark. For once, real panic flickered across his face. "Megan's just... forgetful sometimes. This..." I cut him off. "You should throw out used condoms. They're dirty." I don't know which word hit Mark the wrong way. He snapped, "None of your damn business," and stormed out. As I finished packing, I realized I barely owned anything. When we were poor, I didn't dare buy things. Now that we had money, I couldn't shake the deep-seated feeling that I didn't deserve nice things. Liam had been waiting downstairs for a while. He leaned against his Maybach, glancing at the single suitcase beside me. "That's it? You really went through a lot these past few years, huh?" I gave a weak smile. "Wouldn't have given up if I hadn't gone through it, right?" Once, I was full of passion, thinking we could spend our lives together. Later, I realized it was just wishful thinking on my part. We stumbled through poverty together, but when wealth came, I was left behind alone. "Thanks for what you did in the car today." Liam shrugged it off. "Wanted to do that for a long time." Mark called again. "Sarah, bring me a box of condoms. Don't slack off."
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