1 Lately, Charlotte had been getting a lot of calls from a restricted number. She claimed it was her cell carrier, pitching new plans. But I knew the truth. She had a different carrier. I didn't bother calling her out on it, but she just got bolder. The day I got food poisoning, she was at the office, screwing her male assistant. When I called her office line, all I could hear over the phone were the muffled sounds of their passion, punctuated by her sharp, dismissive words to me: "If you're going to die, then just die. Stop bothering me!" Later, we were out together, and I found a designer men's watch in the car's center console. Before I could say anything, Charlotte snatched it away, her voice cold. "Don't touch that. It's not for you." I just nodded and pulled the car up to the bridal shop. The custom wedding suits we'd ordered... it was time to cancel them. I'd just stepped into the bridal shop when Charlotte caught up to me. She tossed a windproof lighter at me. "Oliver, you need to work on not losing things all the time." Charlotte had a touch of OCD. She couldn't stand clutter in her car. The lighter hit me in the face, a sharp, stinging pain, but I didn't react. I just said, calmly, "I don't smoke. You know who this belongs to, don't you?" At that, her expression softened. She carefully picked up the lighter from the floor and slipped it into her pocket. I knew it was Leo’s. Every time Leo deliberately left something behind to provoke me, I would lose my temper. But not this time. I didn't complain. I just turned and gave my phone number to the sales assistant. The assistant smiled brightly. "You're just in time. Your custom suits are finished and ready for a fitting." Before I could refuse, Charlotte, the same woman who had just been yelling at me, had already disappeared into the changing room, her face a mask of indifference. Ten minutes later, I stood before her in my suit. She smirked. "A monkey in a suit is still a monkey. Tacky as hell." I didn't argue. I just asked the assistant to take a picture of me. Charlotte, though visibly annoyed, started to move into the frame. I shifted away. Just then, her phone rang—Leo's special ringtone. Leo's voice was frantic. He'd lost his limited-edition Dupont lighter and was dramatically offering himself to whoever was kind enough to return it. I thought he sounded like a moron, but Charlotte was completely invested. She hung up, and without even bothering to change out of her wedding gown, she hiked up the skirt and dashed out of the shop. As I heard her car speed away, I paid the remaining balance for the suits. Then I picked up a pair of scissors and, without a moment's hesitation, cut my wedding suit to ribbons. It was one in the morning when I got a text while packing my things. It was from Charlotte: [At a karaoke bar.] After six years together, my girlfriend was finally, for once, volunteering her whereabouts. I glanced at it and didn't reply. After taking out the trash, I took a long bath and fell straight to sleep. When Charlotte came home the next day, she found me on my way out to take out more trash. She gave me a strange look. "Is your phone broken?" When I shook my head, her brow furrowed in annoyance. I knew why she was reacting this way. In the past, whenever she stayed out too late, I would text and call her relentlessly. 2 I’d even cross the entire city just to bring her home. But last night, not only had I not tried to find her, I hadn't even replied to her text. As I was about to step outside, Charlotte asked, "Oliver, where's the photo of us that was on the wall?" I met her gaze, about to lay it all on the line, when her phone rang again, right on cue. She brushed past my shoulder, already deep in conversation as she walked into the house. "Don't worry, Leo. I'll bring it over as soon as it's ready." Hearing the sound of the shower running, I continued downstairs to take out the trash. On my way back up, a wave of dizziness hit me. Probably low blood sugar from skipping breakfast and a busy morning. I stumbled back into the apartment, drenched in a cold sweat, and grabbed a sandwich from the counter. I had just taken a bite when Charlotte appeared before me, her voice sharp and accusatory. "Oliver, are you some kind of starving animal?" She snatched the sandwich from my mouth, plate and all, and threw it in the trash. I stared at her, stunned. "I've taken care of you for six years. Don't I even deserve a single bite of the breakfast you made?" Charlotte's eyes were hard as stone. "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror and tell me what part of you deserves anything?" Without another glance, she put on her coat and slammed the door behind her. Faced with this new wave of the silent treatment, I instinctively picked up my phone and opened her chat. I saw she'd changed her background photo. It was a side profile of Leo kissing her on the forehead. I ‘liked’ the photo and then unpinned her chat from the top of my list. During my lunch break, I had an appointment with a real estate agent to look at apartments. As I stepped into the elevator, I ran into Charlotte and Leo. Leo looked like he'd just woken up, and Charlotte was gently fixing his bangs. Seeing me, Leo didn't flinch. He even greeted me cheerfully. "Ollie, perfect timing. I just got this haircut, but Charlotte thinks it's messy and insists on fixing it. Is she this controlling with you at home too?" Even if I weren't in the picture, Charlotte was still his boss, yet he called her by her first name. It was clear their relationship was an open secret at the office. I had no intention of responding to his provocation, but then I saw Charlotte poke Leo's cheek, not trying to hide it at all. "Only you're allowed to boss me around, huh? I can't boss you back?" Leo looked up at me. "Why don't you tell Ollie here how you boss me around?" They both burst out laughing. Charlotte laughed so hard she practically fell into him, completely ignoring my presence. The next second, the elevator shuddered to a halt, plunging us into darkness. I turned on my phone's flashlight and saw Charlotte holding Leo, murmuring soft words of comfort. It didn't take long for the elevator to be fixed. When we reached the ground floor, Charlotte offered to give me a ride. Before I could answer, Leo suddenly announced that the ordeal had made him dizzy. Without a second thought, Charlotte pushed me aside, bundled Leo into the passenger seat, and sped off toward the hospital. I silently picked up my phone, which she had knocked to the floor, hailed a cab, and went to see the apartment. That evening, Charlotte personally delivered a dessert to my desk. Half an hour earlier, I had seen a new post from Leo: [A little low blood sugar doesn't call for this many desserts! There's no way I can finish all of this!] 3 The picture was a table laden with French pastries. I thanked her but didn't touch the dessert box. A flicker of confusion crossed Charlotte's face. "Oliver, why are you being so polite to me?" I didn't answer her directly. "If you don't mind, I need to go print something." By the time I returned with my printed resignation letter, Charlotte was gone. She had left a sticky note. It said to find her upstairs when I was done. I tore off the note and threw it away, along with the dessert. I didn't go find her. Instead, I walked into my boss's office and resigned. "Oliver, why are you being so polite to me?" my boss had asked, echoing Charlotte's words. He tried to convince me to stay, but seeing my mind was made up, he finally accepted my resignation. If the handover went smoothly, I would be free after this week. At ten that night, Charlotte called me while I was at a work dinner. A female colleague accidentally answered. By the time I got the phone, Charlotte's voice was dangerously cold. "Oliver, where are you this late at night? And who was that woman?" "Out," I replied. "Send me your location. I'm coming to pick you up." She hung up before I could say another word. I sent my location and stayed until the restaurant closed. Charlotte never showed up. I opened Leo's social media and, unsurprisingly, saw a picture of him in a hospital bed with an IV drip. I took a cab home alone, showered, and went to sleep. At three in the morning, a disheveled Charlotte shook me awake. Her voice was ice. "Oliver, I'm hungry. Make me a bowl of shrimp dumplings." She was allergic to shellfish and didn't even like dumplings. I knew who they were for. I tried to pull her hand away, but my fingers brushed against the scar on her arm. Years ago, a fire had broken out in the school auditorium. Charlotte had dragged me out of the smoke-filled room after I’d passed out. Her arm was badly burned, leaving a permanent scar. If it weren't for her, I'd probably be dead. A bowl of shrimp dumplings in exchange for my life. It was a fair trade. Seeing me get dressed without a word, ready to head out, Charlotte grabbed my arm. For the first time in a long while, her voice was hesitant. "Maybe… maybe you should just wait until morning. Anyway…" I cut her off. "Does he want anything else besides the dumplings?" I asked softly. After a moment of silence, Charlotte let go of my arm. "No," she said. At dawn, Charlotte stood at the door with an insulated food container. "Oliver, I have to go abroad next week. Make some time this Saturday to have dinner with my parents and discuss the wedding…" Before she could finish, I cut her off. "No need." Charlotte was clearly taken aback. "What do you mean?" I lied without batting an eye. "Let's talk about it when you get back. Work is more important." She stared at me, as if she had more to say, but luckily, her phone rang again. She shut the door, eager to take the call. On Friday, my last day of work, Charlotte pulled me into her car the moment I stepped out of the office. At a high-end restaurant, she placed a piece of sashimi on my plate. "Which wine do you want?" I scrolled idly through my phone. "Whatever. You pick." My indifference made her pretty face darken.
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