At my own wedding reception, I raised a glass to my wife’s old flame. In response, he smashed the glass on the floor in front of everyone. "So I lost to you," he spat. "You got to marry Amelia. But that doesn't give you the right to humiliate me in public!" My wife, Amelia, was livid. She screamed at me, calling me a petty, pathetic man, saying my jealousy was the most disgusting thing about me. Then she ripped off her veil and ran after her old love, who was already storming out. I rushed forward, trying to explain, but a car screeched around the corner and hit me. Amelia glanced back at me, just for a second, then continued her pursuit without breaking stride. I was rushed to the hospital. By some miracle, I survived. But in that sterile, white room, my heart died. The moment I was conscious, I made a call to the father I hadn't spoken to in three years. "Dad," I said, my voice raspy. "About that arranged marriage for the family... I'll do it." The day I was discharged, Amelia still hadn't shown up. She hadn't visited me once during my entire hospital stay. My leg was still in a cast. I had to take a cab home. When I got to our apartment, my key wouldn't work. The lock had been changed. I had no choice but to call her. A man’s voice answered. It was him. Cole, her old flame. "Hey, is that you, Leo? Amelia's in the shower." Before I could say anything, the door clicked open from the inside. The moment Cole saw me, he grinned, wide and welcoming. "Leo, you're back! Come on in." "It's my fault, man," he said, gesturing to the lock. "I'm so bad with numbers, I could never remember the code. So Amelia just changed it to my birthday. You didn't know, right? I'll write it down for you." He was wearing a brand-new silk robe, his hair still damp and plastered to his forehead. Just then, Amelia poked her head out of the master bedroom. She was wearing my favorite of her nightgowns—the sheer black one. If this had happened before, seeing them alone together, both freshly showered, I would have exploded. We would have screamed at each other until we were red in the face. This time, I just gave a slight nod and wheeled my suitcase inside. Seeing my lack of reaction, Amelia tossed the towel she was holding and offered a flimsy explanation. "The power went out at Cole's place, so he's staying here for a few days. Don't get the wrong idea." Looking at her, all I could see was the image of her chasing after Cole, not even glancing back as I was struck by a car, nearly killed. In that moment, any love I had for her had vanished. "I'm not," I said. I didn't stop, just dragged my suitcase toward the bedroom. "Cole's family is all overseas," she continued, following me. "He's all alone here. We grew up together. If I don't take him in, who will?" I listened silently. She seemed to have forgotten that I had also cut off my family for three years to be with her. If Cole had it so tough, what about me? "I told you, I'm not getting the wrong idea." I was forced to stop as she blocked my path. "Leo, you've had a sour look on your face since you walked in. I'm trying to explain, and you won't even listen." "What is it that you want?" She grabbed my arm, her words a torrent of accusations. My patience snapped. I pushed her hand away, my voice cold. "I said, I am not getting the wrong idea." The fracture in my arm wasn't fully healed. A sharp pain shot through it, and I had to let go of my suitcase. It fell to the floor with a dull thud. The bedroom light flicked on, revealing a pair of light blue men's briefs on the bed, next to a black bra with a broken strap. Amelia's face went pale. She scrambled to snatch up the clothes. "We... we accidentally got these wet earlier. We were just letting them dry," she stammered. "Don't overthink it." I looked around the messy bedroom. There was barely a place to stand. "Mm," was all I said before turning and walking into the guest room. After I showered, my father called. "Leo, I'm glad you've come to your senses. I'm getting old, and you're my only son. For three years, you refused to come home and take over the family business, all for that woman. You have no idea how much your mother and I have missed you. If she truly loved you, it would be one thing. But it's been three years, and she's never even properly introduced you to her family or friends. It's clear she's not as devoted to you as you claim." "Since you've made up your mind to come back, we'll set the wedding for a month from now. How does that sound?" His words left me stunned. Before, whenever he'd said things like this, I’d bristled, convinced he was just a rich snob looking down on Amelia. I would have fired back, telling him how much Amelia and I loved each other. This time, I had nothing to say. "Okay," I finally managed. "That works. I can leave after Professor Evans's birthday party." "As for the wedding, you and Mom can handle the arrangements." Just as I hung up, I heard footsteps outside the door. Amelia pushed open the door to the guest room, holding a box of fresh mangoes. She set the fruit on the table, her brow furrowed with suspicion. "I thought I heard you talking about a wedding? I've told you several times, since our wedding was postponed, there's no rush." Seeing the panic in her eyes, I answered calmly, "Not ours. A relative's. They asked me to help plan it." She seemed to relax. She opened the box of mangoes, her face lighting up with a smile as she mentioned Cole. "Cole was worried you'd be upset, so he's already moved into a hotel. He asked me to bring you these fresh mangoes as an apology." I didn't open my mouth. A flash of annoyance crossed Amelia's face. "Leo, enough is enough. Let it go. This isn't good for anyone." I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "We've been together for years. Don't you know I'm allergic to mangoes?" With that, I turned to find a hairdryer. Amelia followed me, opening her mouth to say something several times, but ultimately remaining silent. She used to remember everything I couldn't eat. She used to remember every single one of our anniversaries. The first time I had an allergic reaction to a dessert with mango in it, she had rushed me to the hospital in the middle of the night, frantic with worry. It wasn't that she had forgotten now. It was just that she didn't love me anymore. Without looking at her, I took out the medicine the doctor had given me and started changing my own dressing. When she saw the scars and bruises covering my body, a flicker of guilt crossed her eyes. She picked up a cotton swab, wanting to help. I was about to refuse when her phone rang. Cole's weak voice came through the speaker. "Amelia, I think I ate something bad. My stomach is killing me, and I'm breaking out in a cold sweat. Can you bring me some medicine?" Amelia shot to her feet. "Don't move. I'm on my way. Just lie down and wait for me." After hanging up, she turned to me with a look of earnest sincerity. "Leo, Cole's stomach condition is acting up. I have to go check on him. I swear, there's nothing going on between us. If there was, it would have happened years ago. Please, don't be mad at me over this." Before I could answer, she was already out the door. The medicine bottles on the table were knocked over, spilling their contents across the floor. Staring at the empty, silent room and the closed door, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. It was always like this. Whenever it came to Cole, she would lose all composure, and I would be consumed by insecurity. She always said I didn't trust her enough. Well, now she could rest easy. I would never doubt her again. After that day, Amelia didn't come back. But Cole's social media was updated frequently. It was all about how blissful it was to be alone with Amelia. I quietly blocked Cole on all platforms. Then I watched the numbers on my new digital countdown clock tick away. With twenty days left, I started the process of resigning from my job. My projects were already wrapping up, but I still wanted to leave things in perfect order. My manager saw the "getting married" reason on my resignation form and joked, "About time you two had a proper ceremony. Wouldn't want Amelia to get any funny ideas." I lowered my head for a moment, then looked up with a bright smile. "It's not with her." My manager's smile faded, replaced by a sigh of regret. The days were a blur of handing over my work. It wasn't until the second day after I'd officially left that I finally had a moment to breathe. I glanced at the countdown clock. Five days left. I was in a daze. I slapped my cheeks, trying to clear my head, and started packing. Amelia and I had been together for a long time. I loved photography. Our pictures were everywhere in the apartment. There were more on my camera and computer. Besides the photos, there were the boxes from every birthday gift I'd ever given her. I'd kept them all, as mementos. And to make sure I didn't repeat a gift and seem thoughtless. And then there were the love letters she had written me. ... Looking at all of it, a heavy weight settled in my chest. It hurt. We had been so good together once. Back then, I couldn't bear to miss a single moment with her. And she would spend all her free time with me. Sometimes, she would pout at the photos and say, "You take so many pictures. Aren't you going to get sick of looking at me one day?" I'd flick her forehead gently. "Maybe. The day I get sick of you, I'll just disappear quietly. Be a real heartbreaker." She'd playfully punch my arm, and I'd fall back onto the sofa, laughing. "Oh, you've broken it... my heart! Look what's inside! My god, it's all you!" We would collapse into a fit of laughter. So many years had passed. I hadn't gotten sick of her, but she had gotten sick of me. After looking through everything one last time, I took it all to the bathroom and burned it, piece by piece. I washed the ashes down the drain. All our history, gone. Nothing left. Time flew by. Amelia still hadn't returned. I spent the next few days packing and cleaning the apartment. Until there was not a single trace of me left in that home. Seeing the "2" on the countdown clock, I grabbed my keys and went out to get a gift for Professor Evans. Professor Evans had taught a general education course we both took in college. He was, in a way, the one who brought Amelia and me together. I spent a long time at the mall before finally choosing a jade pendant. They say jade can ward off disaster. The professor was getting older. I hoped he would live a long, healthy life. Professor Evans's birthday was my last day in this city. Tomorrow, I would fly home to get married.
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