A few days before the wedding, I stumbled upon a viral love story online. Under every one of the blogger’s late-night melancholic posts, an anonymous commenter would reply instantly. Each reply brimmed with deep affection for the blogger. Like other netizens, I was completely captivated by this moving romance. Until one day, the blogger posted a beautiful photo, tinged with tears: 【I know it’s you, but it seems impossible for us. I wish you a happy marriage.】 That person still replied in a heartbeat: 【Anyone but you is just settling.】 My heart plummeted. The person in the photo was none other than my fiancé Ethan Sterling’s childhood sweetheart, Clara Finch. 1 My hand trembled, and the last stroke on the wedding invitation went completely askew. I put down the calligraphy pen and clicked on the original post details, only to find it no longer existed. I inadvertently noticed Clara Finch’s username—【LittlePhalaenopsis】. Looking at the Phalaenopsis orchid design printed on our wedding invitations, my heart jolted. The flowers for our wedding were chosen by Ethan; they were Phalaenopsis orchids. In Clara Finch’s follow list, I found an account with a Phalaenopsis orchid as its background. 【My family found a marriage partner for me. I'll just let her do the laundry, cook, have kids, and bear the risk of her figure changing for you.】 【Marrying her is a task I have to complete, but being with you is my life’s true wish.】 So, what I thought was a marriage материалов for love was just Ethan finding a tool for procreation. If you set aside me, the sacrificed party, their so-called love seemed quite "deep." I rubbed my sore wrist, gazing at the pile of wedding invitations I’d spent the afternoon handwriting. A sharp pain pierced my chest, and my vision blurred. At seven in the evening, Ethan came home, casually tossing his suit jacket into my arms and asking with a frown: “Why isn’t dinner ready yet?” Due to years of business dinners, Ethan had a sensitive stomach. To take care of him, I quit my job and meticulously prepared stomach-friendly meals every day. Thinking about it now, isn't that what a housekeeper does? “I didn’t make any,” I replied. “So you want me to eat that garbage takeout? Lila Shaw, do you think just because we’re about to get married and make it official, you can start slacking off?” My voice was hoarse: “About the wedding…” Ethan turned around, annoyed: “I told you to handle it. Can’t you see I’m swamped every day?” I met his impatient gaze, no longer tiptoeing around: “Let’s just forget about the wedding.” It took Ethan a moment to process. He stared at me, puzzled: “Forget it? Weren’t you the one crying and begging for a grand wedding?” I gave a bitter smile: “No wedding, and no need to get married. Let’s break up.” Seeing my swollen eyes, he finally sensed something was wrong. “Are you okay, Lila? You were the one who insisted on marrying me. My parents condescended to meet yours and even specifically allowed your… less well-off relatives to attend. Now everyone knows we’re getting married, and you’re saying forget it. What are you trying to pull now?” Ethan, always cold and arrogant in front of me, would bend over backward to cheer up another woman under her posts. For five years of our relationship, I was always the one actively sharing life’s little joys, while he was like a robot, just replying “Hmm” or “Okay.” Sometimes, if I accidentally sent an emoji, he’d call me childish. Turns out, it wasn’t that he was reserved. Indifference. It was just because he didn’t love me. “I said, I don’t want to get married. You don’t have to force yourself anymore. Wouldn’t it be better to focus on protecting your Phalaenopsis?” Ethan froze, his face instantly darkening: “Two years ago it was a photo in my wallet, last year it was a plane ticket, and now it’s a post? Can you stop making such a fuss!” With that, Ethan walked into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. I felt like all my strength had been drained, and I collapsed onto the sofa. Every year, I’d find new evidence of Ethan’s lack of commitment to our relationship, always trying to salvage it with big fights. I forgot that leaving is the best escape. 2 When I woke up the next day, I found a light blanket covering me. Ethan was sitting nearby, leisurely sipping an Americano. He had a tall, imposing figure and a distinguished air, things that had made my heart flutter countless times. Seeing me awake, he said gently, “Today is Grandpa’s 80th birthday. I took a special day off from the company. Let’s go wish him a happy birthday together.” In the past, to accommodate Ethan’s schedule, the Sterlings always arranged old Mr. Finch's birthday on a weekend. I clicked on Clara Finch’s account and, sure enough, saw her IP address had changed from Sweden to San Francisco. They called it the old man’s birthday banquet, but it was really just a welcome home party for Clara. Fine. Since the Sterlings would all be there, it was the perfect opportunity for me to announce the cancellation of the wedding. Seeing me start to put on makeup, Ethan frowned: “Haven’t I told you not to wear heavy makeup? Who are you dressing up so beautifully for?” After college, several guys had pursued me. Thinking back, Mr. Sterling had strongly pushed for Ethan and me to get together, probably because he valued my simple family background, my no-makeup-for-work demeanor, and my obedient nature. He figured once I married into the Sterling family, I’d be a contented, non-threatening housewife, focused on husband and children. I finished my makeup, put on high heels I hadn’t worn in ages, and retrieved the handwritten calligraphy birthday gift from the study. It was rare for Ethan to see me in full makeup. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it. 3 As we opened the door to the Sterling mansion, I saw Clara Finch laughing and chatting amidst a group of elders. When Ethan arrived, Clara gasped, then skipped over and threw herself into Ethan’s arms. “Ethan, my dearest! I haven’t seen you in years! Did you miss me?” Ethan glanced at me, slightly uneasy. I ignored him and walked straight to old Mr. Finch, presenting the framed calligraphy: “Grandpa, happy 80th birthday.” Clara covered her mouth, feigning surprise: “Lila, you’re giving calligraphy too? Three months ago, I specially flew to England and spent $150,000 to commission a piece from the calligraphy master, Adrian Quillan. Whose work is yours?” “I wrote it myself.” Clara immediately had someone lay both pieces on the table for comparison. “I don’t know much about calligraphy, so I can’t tell good from bad.” Ethan said disdainfully, “How can her amateurish stuff compare to a master’s?” I nodded. “Master Quillan is 76 this year. Everyone in the field knows he stopped writing in cursive after 70 and only does formal script. This cursive piece by Master Quillan is indeed rare.” Clara’s expression changed. “I have a senior fellow apprentice who is Master Quillan’s student. I’ll call him right now and ask.” Clara instantly looked flustered. Ethan slapped my phone out of my hand. He snatched up my calligraphy, tore it into pieces with a few rips, threw it on the floor, and stomped on it hard. “Are a master’s affairs something someone like you can speculate about?” Before I could say anything, Clara started crying pitifully. “It’s all my fault. Why did I have to mention the $150,000? Lila’s probably never even seen that much money in her life.” Ethan pulled Clara into his arms. “There, there, Clara, don’t cry. She’s just unsophisticated and petty. Be good, you won’t be pretty if you keep crying.” Mrs. Sterling said sharply, “Lila, you’ve been here for so long. Why aren’t you in the kitchen yet?” Every time I visited, I would cook a table full of delicious food for them. My filial piety towards the elders was, in their eyes, no different from a housekeeper’s. Mrs. Sterling said gently to Clara, “Clara, dear, tell us what you want to eat. Lila can make it.” Clara pointed at my hands. “No wonder Lila’s hands are so rough. It must be from all the cooking. Not like mine; these hands only know how to play the piano and get manicures.” Ethan smirked. “That’s about all she’s good for.” I crossed my arms. “Sorry, these hands of mine aren’t cooperating. My carpal tunnel is acting up. I can’t serve anyone today.” 4 Mrs. Sterling frowned. “I just thought your cooking was decent and wanted to give you a chance to show off. How did it turn into serving us? What, not even married into the family yet and you’re already trying to pin labels on me?” Mr. Sterling slammed the table: “Enough! Today is Grandpa’s 80th birthday. Why are you all arguing over such a small matter?” Mr. Sterling had always been relatively nice to me. I’d wait until after dinner to bring it up. Even without my cooking, a table full of dishes was quickly laid out. Clara had already taken a seat next to Ethan. I was about to sit further away, but Ethan pulled me back. “Still mad after a few words?” I couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore. Clara bit her chopsticks, pouting. “Ethan, dearest, I want some of that fish roe.” Ethan stood up, brought the fish roe over, and thoughtfully placed it in front of Clara. Then, uncharacteristically, he put a large shrimp on my plate. I picked the shrimp off my plate and said coldly, “Don’t you know I’m allergic to shrimp?” Ethan slammed his chopsticks down. “Eat if you want to, leave if you don’t! We’re getting married in a month, what’s all this drama about? You’re such a handful!” My temper flared. “Grandpa, I’m sorry, I really can’t take it anymore. I’ve decided not to marry Ethan Sterling.” “What?!” Mr. and Mrs. Sterling shrieked in unison. Old Mr. Finch walked over unsteadily and grasped my hand. “Why suddenly not getting married? You’re already engaged, how can you not get married?” Ethan’s face was dark; he turned stiffly. “All these elders are here. You need to think before you speak!” “It’s precisely because the elders are here that I need to make things clear.” With that, I pulled out my chair and walked out, feeling a sense of relief. Clara whimpered and ran over to tug at my sleeve. “Lila, Lila, are you angry because I’ve been clinging to Ethan? I just haven’t seen him in years and got a little too excited. Please don’t misunderstand.” Ethan looked like he understood completely, pulling Clara to his side with a smirk. He scoffed mockingly, “Let her throw her tantrum. She does this once a year, like clockwork. We’ve spoiled her! Let’s eat, don’t mind her!” 5 I walked back to the villa, the cold wind hitting my face. In less than an hour, my luggage was packed. As I was buying a plane ticket, a notification for Clara’s post popped up. The picture was of a single, ice-white Phalaenopsis orchid, with two hands clasped in the blurred background. 【Haven't seen you in years, and you give me white Phalaenopsis again. Besides you, who else still treats me like a child?】 The post blew up again, with a stream of【99】【So jealous】scrolling across the screen. But this time, that "Robert" account didn't appear in the comments. I casually liked it, then swiped out, quickly bought a ticket for an evening flight, and rushed to the airport with my luggage. While going through security, I received a message from Ethan: 【Clara is planning to come work at my company. Tidy up the guest room on the third floor. Remember, no air freshener; she doesn’t like the smell.】 【Still daring not to reply?】 【Clara’s family and mine are old family friends. Don’t project your dirty thoughts onto us. Do I need to explain what 'old family friends' means?】 I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened the chat with my parents and told them I was coming home. Opening the door to my parents' house, I was greeted by the aroma of hot food and their warm embrace. Ethan was always busy, and to take care of him constantly, I hadn’t been home in years. I told them I wasn’t planning to get married. My parents were surprised for a moment, then quickly accepted it. After all, on the day of our engagement, Ethan’s parents had been so snobbish, looking down their noses and openly mocking the precious local homemade gifts my parents brought, making my parents feel incredibly awkward. 6 Ethan must have gone back to the villa and found me gone, because he started calling. The custom ringtone he’d set for me echoed in my ears, over and over. I pressed the power-off button. Then I pulled out some calligraphy paper from under the cabinet, ground the ink, dipped the brush, and started practicing. Soon, the paper was densely covered with my writing. Satisfied, I turned my phone back on and opened the camera to take pictures. A notification for 99+ missed calls from Ethan popped up. I calmly swiped the notification away. After finding a good angle and taking several photos, I uploaded them to my social media. I woke up to find it had gone viral. There was a familiar profile picture in my DMs. It was Leo Bell, a senior from my hometown who was in the university calligraphy club with me. After a pleasant chat, we agreed to meet up tomorrow to catch up. 7 When I saw Leo Bell, he was holding a bouquet of larkspur, symbolizing freedom. Leo smiled shyly, just like the innocent young man from years ago. “I remember you like larkspur.” A delicate fragrance filled the air, and my heavy heart seemed to skip a beat or two unexpectedly. “You actually remembered.” Leo looked at me, his eyes shining like stars: “I remember a lot of things about you.” I felt a little embarrassed: “What should I give you in return?” Leo thought for a moment: “Well, then write a piece of calligraphy for me.” Leo walked me to my door. I didn’t let him leave, excitedly pulling out calligraphy paper: “What would you like me to write?” Leo picked up the inkstick and began to grind it for me. “May Lila be like the free-flying larkspur, and find her freedom in this life,” Leo said slowly, word by word. My brush paused, and my nose tingled. He looked at me quietly, his eyes holding a universe of stars. Once the characters were dry, he carefully wrapped it up as if it were a priceless treasure. “This wish, I’ll need your help to make it come true.” Under his caring gaze, I nodded vigorously. Suddenly, there was an urgent knock on the door. I thought my parents were back. When I opened the door, I saw a haggard-looking Ethan. He had dark circles under his eyes and a short stubble on his chin, looking utterly exhausted. 8 “Lila, why didn’t you tell me you came home…” Ethan’s voice was hoarse. Leo called out from the room: “Is that your aunt and uncle back?” Hearing an unfamiliar male voice, Ethan looked stunned. He gripped my shoulders tightly, demanding sharply: “Who is that man in there? You’ve only been back a few days and you’re already shacking up with a new guy?!”
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