After the car crash, my girlfriend, Chelsea, pushed through the crowd and rushed towards her uninjured ex-husband, Jason, like he was a precious treasure. Ambulance sirens wailed, everyone trying to rescue me, pinned under the car. But Chelsea, for the man at the core of her heart, was frantically looking for a first-aid kit. Her college sweetheart, the one she'd married—he was unforgettable, I guess. The newcomer winning out? A total joke. Out of surgery, I gritted my teeth against the searing pain and called my father, whom I’d been giving the cold shoulder to for years. "Dad, I'll go abroad. Someone else can take over the company. I just want to get out of here." Even though next month was the wedding I’d waited seven years for, practically begged Chelsea for. This time, I wouldn’t be a fool again. … While my bones were mending, I saw no one except the temp caregiver I hired. Back then, Chelsea had said, "Stay away from your deadbeat friends!" and I'd dropped everyone, moving with her to a secluded house where it was just the two of us. I thought it would be just the two of us, forever, and that would be fine. But after the crash, my ‘other half’ just sent a text: "Busy with stuff here. Take care." How ironic. I’d doted on her for seven years. Headaches, fevers—I always insisted on top doctors, terrified that too much medication would harm her. Now, hospitalized after a car crash, I couldn’t even get a sincere "how are you?" But she was the one who came onto me first. When my career was just starting, she’d cooed about saving enough to retire early together. When work got too hectic, she was the one constantly reminding me to eat proper meals, not to smoke or drink too much. Even if I said I wanted to see the ocean at 3 AM, she’d race out with me without a complaint. She said she’d married young and foolishly, to the wrong person. She said meeting me made her realize what it truly felt like to want to marry someone. But if Jason just beckoned, she’d drop everything to follow him, leaving me in the dust. I thought I was immune by now. But the physical pain, the stark loneliness… everything screamed at me who the real "wrong person" was. The fracture ached so bad I could barely breathe, but I still reached for my phone. Social media, e-invites, reception bookings… one by one, I canceled and deleted everything related to Chelsea. I just never expected Chelsea could always push me from the brink of collapse right into a full-blown meltdown. Coming home from the hospital, everything had changed. The decor I’d chosen to suit her taste was replaced with weird Goth stuff. She knew I had pollen allergies, but now there was a mountain of flowers piled by the door. Facing the nosy neighbors and their fake congratulations, I just nodded blankly and used my spare key to unlock the door. I didn’t even need to try; I knew Chelsea would have changed the passcode. Whenever Jason showed up, this house stopped being our house. It became his and her art studio, a prerequisite for their "soulful connection." To keep the peace, I always had to retreat to the small cabin behind the main house. Thinking about it now, it's laughable. It was my house. Why the hell should I accommodate those two scumbags? An image of them all lovey-dovey flashed in my mind, and I instinctively slammed my fist against the door. I never expected the disgusting scene that greeted me. Jason, shirtless, holding a leather whip. Teasingly, flippantly, he tapped Chelsea with it, now and then. And Chelsea was clearly enjoying it, half-kneeling at his feet, nuzzling his heel with her cheek. "Master, you get me. He has zero charm as a man, just a loser." He? Who else could she mean but me? Seeing the red silk I’d carefully arranged in the room now wrapped around them like props… I couldn’t control myself. This was my home, our marital home! What the hell were they doing?! 2 "Alex! Why did you come home without a word? When did you get in? Were you eavesdropping on us?!" I saw panic in Chelsea’s eyes, but all I heard were accusations. Yeah, even caught red-handed, she was unreasonable as ever, blaming me first. I looked down and laughed self-deprecatingly. Then Jason’s lazy voice drifted over, "Perfect timing, I'm thirsty. Alex, did you bring back anything to drink?" That question stabbed me in the heart, making me realize how pathetic I’d been. "This is my house. Jason, can't you even afford a motel room?" Without waiting to see their ugly expressions, I grabbed my ID and left. But Chelsea suddenly chased after me, grabbing my arm. "What do you mean, 'motel room'? How can your mind be so dirty?" "I don't care! Alex! You have to apologize to us today!" I spun around, furious, my eyes practically bloodshot in an instant. "Me, dirty? When you were on the floor acting like someone's pet, did you ever think about your fiancé who almost died in a car crash?" Hearing "car crash," Chelsea flinched guiltily, but then she quickly became indignant again. "I saw the bank records, you hired a caregiver. I don't know how to do anything, so I wouldn't have been any help if I went. Besides…" What kind of twisted logic was that? I didn’t want to hear another word. I just sneered, "So, by your logic, I should just date people? Why bother getting married or making any serious commitments?" "Alex!" Chelsea shrieked at me, incredulous. Tears welled up in her eyes instantly. Shouting "You're unbelievable!" she rushed back to the room to seek comfort from Jason. Looking at the closed door, and the wound on my arm she’d torn open in her fit of rage… I once again realized how wrong this relationship was. Chelsea… she never loved me, did she? There was no point staying in this house anymore. Stone-faced, I started destroying every testament to our supposed love. The sound of smashing china and glass echoed through the living room. The two in the room must have come out at some point. They just stood on the landing, silently watching my rampage, looking down on my humiliation and pain. Until I picked up the coffee mug Chelsea had handmade for me. She got so agitated she almost leaped from the second floor. "You can't break that one!" She cradled that mug like a new mother with her baby. Even though we'd never once used it or even thought about it all these years. I wanted to say, "You don't have to act." But then my gaze fell on her bleeding foot, cut by a shard of glass, and I changed my tune. "I don't drink coffee. It's useless to keep it." Chelsea's eyes dimmed, seeming very reluctant to part with it. "But this was the first gift I ever made by hand…" I pressed my lips together, unsure how to respond, when someone pushed me. Jason sauntered over to Chelsea, eyes narrowed in a half-smile. "Good thing I love coffee. Since Alex doesn't cherish it, I guess I'll have to protect 'Little Chelsy's' heartfelt gift." A few words, and he'd completely invalidated my feelings for Chelsea. And she clearly bought it, handing the mug over to him almost without a second thought. Watching them get all touchy-feely again without a care in the world, I really didn't want to say another word. "Canceling the marriage license appointment requires both our consent. Remember to confirm it." Chelsea, lost in her sweet moment, didn't seem to hear. Her faint voice drifted from behind me, "What? Go get the license this afternoon, right? I remember!" She remembered. But I never said I was going. 3 "Alex, I need to see you! Open up, quick!" The urgent shouts echoed around the small cabin. In a daze, it felt like a lifetime ago. I almost instinctively went to open the door and ask Chelsea, "What's wrong, babe?" But the discomfort from my injuries forced me to face reality. The moment I cracked the door open, she impatiently barged in, dragging Jason with her. "Jason has a sculpture exhibit this afternoon, and I really want to go!" "Alex, can you cancel the marriage license appointment? We can go in a couple of days, it's not a big deal~" Her wheedling tone was soft and drawn out, but her body kept leaning towards Jason. She didn't even glance at me while speaking, as if she were just informing me. Seeing the tense atmosphere, Jason feigned a slight reprimand to Chelsea. "Little Chelsy, you're about to be a wife. How can you still be so willful?" "But this exhibit has been in the works for a long time, and I was really hoping you could make it…" Ha, talk about trying to have it both ways, I thought. But Chelsea seemed completely oblivious to the undertones in Jason's words. She anxiously grabbed Jason's hand, then looked at me with a troubled expression. "Can't you just be understanding? You know how much people in his line of work need support from family and friends…" Understanding again. I’d lost count of how many times I’d "understood" them over the past seven years. I scoffed. "So, an art show is more important than getting married? Then why don't the authorities set up a special fund to support these 'struggling artists'?" Chelsea jumped up like an ant on a hot pan. "What are you doing?! Don't you know how to respect people? So what if you have a little money? You're just a hick from the sticks yourself, what right do you have to insult Jason like that?" "Yeah, I'm from the sticks. So whose money paid for all those designer bags, luxury cars, and the house all these years?" "Alex! You!" Watching Chelsea’s face turn beet red, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. I’d never once contradicted her before. I’d even agreed without a second thought when she said she wanted Jason to sit at the head table, like he was on the bride's side of the family. But now, the wedding was off. Who cared about the license? Perhaps the atmosphere was too weird, because Jason, for once, tried to smooth things over. He laughed and patted my shoulder. "Alex isn't really mad, is he? It's fine! You two go get your license." How could Chelsea bear to see him "suffer" like that? Her expression shifted multiple times. Finally, she just grabbed Jason and stormed off without a backward glance. "I'm going to that exhibit today, period! We can deal with the license the day before the reception. It's not like the world's ending tomorrow, I don't know what you're in such a hurry for!" Speeding off, complaining all the way. The commotion at the house had already drawn the neighbors out to watch. But watching Jason drive off with my fiancée half in his arms, in the car I bought… What was there for me to hide for her anymore? "Yeah, I got cheated on. Royally cheated on." After saying that, I threw my head back and laughed freely a few times. If I was destined to be miserable, might as well own it. And then, expose the seven years of those two scumbags' sordid affair to the public. As the wedding date approached, the information I leaked became more and more detailed. Suggestive photos with faces artfully obscured, love poems and letters overflowing with deep affection. Each and every one a testament to their affair. Chelsea did try to contact me during this time, but she only had eyes for Jason. "The exhibit was a huge success! We're going out to celebrate for a few days, we can talk when we get back!" "Moon Lake is so beautiful! Jason said it's like an early honeymoon preview, he's so thoughtful for us!" "I know the wedding is tomorrow, the plane will definitely land by early morning! I didn't want a delay… If you don't believe me, I'll have Jason tell you!" But they seemed too wrapped up in themselves. Amidst the noisy background, all I could hear was the sound of their passionate, unending kisses. I hit pause on the recording, looked at the wedding photo poster being dismantled in the hotel lobby, and just let time pass. Until a banner reading "Congratulations Chelsea and Jason on your Remarriage! Forever and Always!" was hung in the lobby. Videos and photos of those two scumbags played on a loop on the big screen. My (would-be) parents-in-law's expressions went from overjoyed to looking like they’d attended a funeral. Chelsea's face, surrounded by her bridesmaids, instantly fell. Only then did I truly breathe a sigh of relief, boarding the private jet my father had arranged, and left in style.
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