After three days of silence from my lawyer boyfriend, I drafted an apology text—just to get him to the courthouse for our wedding. But the moment I hit send, his childhood sweetheart posted their marriage license online: “After all this time, it’s still you.” Coworkers gossiped in the comments, waiting for my meltdown. I simply replied: “Invite me to the baby shower. I’ll bring a generous gift.” The post vanished. He called, voice sharp: “Audrey needed legal help. It’s just paperwork. Must you be so dramatic? Apologize publicly now, and I’ll marry you after she recovers.” He forgot this was his 67th cancellation. When he hung up, expecting me to beg during his usual breakup countdown, I didn’t play along. My resignation was already submitted. … After I ignored more than a dozen of his frantic calls, he finally sent a furious text: “Jena, have you lost your mind? How dare you hang up on me? You screwed up, and you think you have the right to be angry?” “You have five minutes to post an apology. Otherwise, we’re done.” In our ten years together, I’d heard threats like this a hundred times. And every single time, I was the one to cave, to apologize, to beg. This was the first time I’d ever just hung up on him. When I didn’t immediately respond, Dillon started his signature social media countdown. He had a rule: three days of silent treatment meant we were broken up by default. My devotion had made him arrogant, and he wielded this rule like a weapon, using the public pressure of the countdown to break me every time we fought. For ten years, it had worked perfectly. I would always crack just before the timer ran out. But this time was different. I was tired. I was done being his fool. Shortly after Dillon’s post, his childhood sweetheart, Audrey, posted one of her own, making sure to tag me. “It was just a little joke with Dillon, I didn’t mean for it to go public! I had no idea Jena would react so strongly. Now I’m almost afraid to talk to her in case I accidentally set her off again.” Dillon, who rarely ever touched his social media, was the first to like it. “That’s her problem, Audrey. Don’t blame yourself. And why set it to ‘friends only’? If you want to post something, post it for the world to see.” It was obvious who “her” was. Our mutual friends, all dependent on Dillon for business, quickly chimed in with their support. “Jena is so petty. Audrey, don’t let someone like that get you down.” “No wonder Dillon won’t marry her. I wouldn’t marry a woman that insecure either.” I let out a bitter laugh. He would bend over backward to defend Audrey, to shield her from the slightest discomfort. But me, his girlfriend of ten years? I was always met with cold indifference. Audrey could sneeze, and he would cancel our appointment at the courthouse. If I complained, he would get angrier than me, accusing me of being controlling and small-minded. And now, when I finally chose to let go and congratulate them, he was still the one blaming me, using his stupid countdown to force an apology. The truth was, there was no right or wrong here. The scales of love had tipped long ago. “Ma’am, the man on this ID is already legally married. Would you like to reschedule with someone else?” The clerk at the marriage license bureau looked at me with pity. I took the ID back with a small smile. “That’s an option to consider.” The young couple behind me cheered as I stepped out of line. It was Valentine’s Day, and appointments were impossible to get. I had been waiting here since dawn just to get a spot. But now, looking at the appointment form in my hand, I didn’t hesitate. I tore it into pieces and threw it in the trash. I had filled out that form 67 times. I had given him 67 chances. Each time, I had shown up just like today, full of hope, watching other couples come and go as I waited for him. And each time, just before our appointment, he would call with an excuse about an urgent matter at the firm. When I questioned him, he’d throw his clients in my face. “Jena, a client’s case is their entire life on the line. Are you really asking me to abandon them for a piece of paper? How can you be so selfish?” He would say it with such righteous indignation, his voice dripping with condescension. He never knew that after he ditched me for Audrey, she would send me taunting messages. “Dillon’s cooking is amazing. I bet you’ve never had it, have you?” “I walked a little too far today, and Dillon was so worried he bought me a luxury car. I seem to recall you’re still using a bike share, right?” And now, he had gone so far as to get a marriage license with her. It was time for our relationship to end. For good. 2 As soon as I walked out of the courthouse, I saw that my resignation request had been rejected. HR told me that Dillon hadn't been in the office for days and couldn't approve it. They gave me an address and told me to find him myself. Determined to leave properly, I gritted my teeth and went. The address was a pool hall. Audrey had posted earlier that she wanted to learn to play pool, and Dillon, the workaholic, had apparently been skipping work for days to teach her. When I found them, he was leaning over her, his body pressed against hers, guiding her shot. The moment Audrey saw me, a contemptuous smirk crossed her lips. A few of his office sycophants who were with them gathered around, nudging each other. “Well, well, look who’s here for Mr. Anderson.” “Told you. The three-day countdown wouldn’t even last one. She always comes crawling back.” “Our boss really has her whipped. One word and she’s on her knees.” “Alright, alright, enough talk. Pay up, losers.” I frowned. I’d heard these taunts countless times before, but they had never grated on me like this. “I’m not here to make up.” My words were met with a burst of laughter. “Oh, stop pretending, Jena. Everyone knows you’re Dillon’s ultimate lapdog. You couldn’t be chased away with a stick.” I ignored them and held out the resignation papers. “Dillon, I need your signature.” Just as he was about to look at the documents, Audrey whined, “Dillon, honey, how do I hit this one?” He immediately dropped the papers, pulled his personal seal from Audrey’s pocket, and tossed it to me. “Sign it yourself. And don’t come bothering me here again. I’m teaching Audrey.” Dillon was obsessed with his privacy. His safe was off-limits to me. He would shield his phone screen even when just entering a passcode. And his personal seal? He never let it out of his sight. But now, he had just given it to Audrey. He was so preoccupied with her that he couldn’t even be bothered with official company documents. I clutched the stamped resignation form, my heart feeling like a cavern with a cold wind blowing through it. I turned to leave, but Dillon called out to me. “Audrey’s busy for the next few days. You can handle her caseload for her.” He tossed a thick stack of files at me, each one with nothing but a title written on the front. I’d lost count of how many times he’d asked me to do Audrey’s work. All I knew was that every time I finished, she would take the credit. But if I made a single mistake in the rush, the blame would fall squarely on my shoulders. Sometimes, I’d lose my temper and refuse. He would then accuse me of being heartless, of not caring about him or the firm. He’d say if I didn’t do it, he would, and I, feeling guilty about his workload, would always cave. But all my sacrifices had only earned me his entitlement and contempt. But now, I was no longer an employee. The firm’s business was no longer my problem. “No. I’ve resigned.” Before I could finish, Audrey’s whiny voice cut in. “Dillon, it’s okay. If Jena doesn’t want to do it, I can do it myself.” Dillon immediately softened. “You just went through a divorce. You’re in no state to work. Go on, have fun. Don’t worry about it.” Then, his tone toward me turned to ice. “Don’t you understand? You’ve already upset Audrey enough with that social media stunt. Now I’m giving you a chance to make it up to her, and you’re refusing? You keep this up, and in three days, you could be on your knees begging, and I still wouldn’t take you back.” I almost laughed. My mother had passed away unexpectedly, and I had been so grief-stricken I’d fainted multiple times. All Dillon had said was, “When you’re done crying, get back to the office on time. There’s a lot of work to be done.” But Audrey? She’d been divorced for two years, and she could still use it as an excuse to skip work. “Then don’t take me back. I don’t care.” I turned to leave. Dillon’s face was a mask of shock. The coworkers were stunned into silence. Audrey, however, just chuckled. “Jena, if you don’t want to do the work, just say so. There’s no need to play these hard-to-get games.” At her words, the tension in Dillon’s face immediately eased, replaced by his usual confident smirk. His voice softened. “Alright, Jena, I know I’ve been neglecting you lately. Just be a good girl and finish Audrey’s work, and in three days, I’ll go with you to get the license, okay?” I scoffed. The same empty promises. But this time, I wasn’t buying. I didn’t answer. I just walked away. The coworkers started their snide remarks again. “What’s the point of pretending? Just watch, by tomorrow at the latest, she’ll be back, begging.” A wicked thought crossed my mind. I wanted to see them lose their bet. I smirked and looked back at them. “Fine. You just wait and see.” 3 With my resignation approved, I immediately joined my best friend’s law firm. In the legal world, your reputation follows you, not the firm you work for. My friend was so thrilled to have a top-tier lawyer like me on her team that she practically bowed down in gratitude. She offered me ten times the salary Dillon had been paying me and gave me a villa. I was finally able to move out of my dilapidated rental apartment. Many of my clients had been shocked to learn that a high-profile lawyer like me lived in such a rundown place. I always brushed it off, saying I was a minimalist and didn’t care about material things. The truth was, I had willingly taken a junior-level salary so that Dillon’s firm could grow. At first, he had been grateful. But over time, he came to see it as his due. Once, when the heating in my apartment broke in the middle of winter, I asked him for money to replace it. He called me extravagant, said I had changed, that I was only after his money. But for Audrey, he would buy a sprawling mansion without a second thought. Even her dog’s house had heating. The day I was moving, I ran into Dillon and Audrey. They were with his parents, a happy family of four enjoying a meal at a fancy restaurant. I froze for a second. I remembered the first time I had gone to his house. I had arrived with armfuls of gifts, but his parents had served me a table full of leftovers. When I awkwardly suggested we all go out to eat, they accused me of being a gold-digger, of mooching off their son and developing wasteful habits. In the end, I had to cook for the entire family. After I’d prepared a full meal, his mother had thrown down her chopsticks, complaining my food was too salty. She’d said only laborers ate such salty food, that it was what she’d expect from someone with my “rural” background. The gifts I had brought them ended up in the hands of the building’s cleaning lady. Compared to this scene, I felt like a complete clown. Dillon’s parents were enthusiastically piling food onto Audrey’s plate. “Audrey and our Dillon are just perfect for each other,” his mother gushed. “If you hadn’t been tricked by that other man all those years ago, you two would never have missed your chance. I think the time is right now. You two should just get together.” His father chimed in. “Exactly. Audrey has already landed several big clients for Dillon since joining the firm. She has a bright future ahead of her. Not like that useless Jena, who’s only good for cooking and cleaning.” I trembled with rage. I had been the one to land those clients. Dillon had just credited them to Audrey’s name. The money I earned had practically kept the entire firm afloat. But Dillon had never once praised me. Instead, he constantly belittled me, saying I was only successful because of the platform his firm provided. And now, faced with his parents’ slander, he said nothing to defend me. He just sighed and said, “Well, we’ve been together for so long, I guess I’ll just make do.” My heart plummeted. All these years, to him, I was just someone to “make do” with. His mother, however, was not satisfied with his answer. “Dillon, I’m telling you, that Jena is bad luck. Just look at how her parents died so young. Marrying her will bring you nothing but trouble.” Dillon didn’t respond, but I was already overwhelmed by tears. My parents had died giving blood to save his. Years ago, his parents were in a car accident and were in critical condition. My parents, who had a matching blood type, didn’t hesitate to donate. But they needed more blood than my parents could safely give. Dillon had been a sobbing mess. My parents, knowing how much I loved him, secretly donated more blood than their bodies could handle. In the end, his parents were saved, but mine passed away. The Anderson family had been consumed with guilt at first, promising to compensate me for my loss. But the compensation never came. Instead, I became the “bad luck” they whispered about. I couldn't bear to listen to their vile talk any longer. I turned to leave.
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