My boyfriend, William, was famous in our social circle for being a "central heating" type of guy – warm to everyone. At group dinners, he'd smile and help order for ten female friends at the table: "Chloe loves the Shrimp Scampi with Garlic, Mia prefers the Sweet and Sour Pork Ribs, and Emily absolutely has to have the Spicy Jambalaya…" Ten people, ten dishes, all their favorites. Everyone envied me: "You found a great guy that's impossible to find." But I broke up with him. He asked why, his eyes red. I said, "I don't want to live with a central air conditioner anymore." Later, we ran into each other at a party. He had his new girlfriend in his arms, and his eyes mocked me: "Heard your new boyfriend's pretty cold? Doesn't even let you order your own food." I looked at the silent man beside me. He opened the menu and ordered only three dishes. All of them were my favorites. Then he closed the menu, not glancing at anyone else. Someone tentatively asked, "Aren't you going to ask what we want?" He didn't even look up, "What other people like to eat, what does that have to do with me?" My ex-boyfriend's face stiffened, inch by agonizing inch. 1 Once the dishes were all served, William suddenly raised his hand and called for the waiter. “Add a mug of Cinnamon Ginger Tea.” My hand, midway to picking up a piece of Roast Chicken, paused. The tightness in my chest, which had been there all evening, eased a little. After such a late night, he still remembered I wasn't feeling well. The tea arrived quickly, and William got up to pour a cup. I was just about to reach for it. The lazy Susan was already turning. The mug of tea rotated to the hand of Tara, a colleague from the club. Tara’s eyes lit up… “Wow, William, you’re so thoughtful! How did you know I’m on my period?” William smiled casually, a hint of nonchalance: “You usually crave spicy food, but tonight you haven’t touched anything hot. How could I not notice?” Everyone at the table exclaimed. “William, are your eyes like a measuring tape or something?” “Where do you find a good man like this?” “Only Olivia is lucky enough to have such a considerate boyfriend.” William waved a hand: “Alright, alright, stop teasing me.” Then he got up, walked to the wall, and turned the air conditioning up two degrees. He turned back to Tara with a smile: “You get stomachaches and still don’t wear enough layers.” I was wrapped snugly in a high-neck sweater, the collar hiding the marks he'd insisted on leaving last night, and fine beads of sweat trickled down my forehead. The air conditioning was already warm enough. But I still felt cold. The entire table of delicious food tasted like sawdust. As the dinner ended, William picked up his car keys: “I’ll drive you girls home; it’s not safe late at night.” I tugged at his sleeve, whispering: “It’s not even nine yet. Let’s just go home; I’m not feeling well today.” Sweat had been pouring off me in the stuffy private room, and now the evening breeze made my temples throb. William looked down, took my hand, and said gently: “How can I let girls go home alone when it’s dark? Be good, just a little longer.” Another one of his perfectly warm, unblemished statements. A wave of helplessness washed over me. Was William not good to me? Quite the opposite. Everyone in our circle knew he was incredibly attentive, the perfect boyfriend who did everything for me. But his kindness was like the breeze from an air conditioner, evenly distributed to everyone in the room, without favor. And what I wanted was, just once, his undivided attention. I let go of his hand. “I’m only asking you once.” “Can you take me home first today?” William frowned, his tone laced with exasperation: “Don’t be difficult, it won’t take long, you can rest in the car just the same—” “Fine.” I stopped arguing, turned, and hailed a taxi. William froze for a moment, then chased after me, grabbing the car door: “Jasmine! What are you doing?” I pushed his hand away and closed the door. “Drive.” 2 When I got home, the air conditioning was broken. I huddled under a blanket on the bed, waiting until one in the morning. William called. “Jasmine, something happened with Tara.” “Her ex-boyfriend showed up again, her apartment is a mess, and she’s too scared to be alone. I’m staying with her for a while.” I closed my eyes, taking a sharp breath. “William, you could have taken her to a hotel, or called a female friend to come over.” “You staying there, just the two of you, what kind of impression does that give? Aren't you worried people will misunderstand?” “Misunderstand what? We’re just colleagues.” He dismissed it. “I’m like this with everyone, you know that. No one will think anything of it.” I clutched the blanket tightly. “I think I have a fever. The air conditioning at home is broken, can you…” “Jasmine!” He cut me off, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Can you stop being so dramatic? I’m just helping a friend. She’s terrified right now, and you’re making a scene with me? “Am I not good enough to you normally? Do I have to ignore everyone else and only pay attention to you?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Tara took the phone, her voice soft and tearful. “Jasmine, please don’t misunderstand William… I was just so scared that I begged him to stay and protect me… “Please don’t be angry. I promise I’ll give him back to you tomorrow.” I hung up the phone. The room was cold, so cold my bones shivered. I wrapped myself in the blanket and lay down, curling into a ball. My body grew hotter and hotter, my heart pounding as if it wanted to leap from my throat. I struggled to get up. I called 911 myself. In the emergency room, after the doctor finished examining me, she frowned. “Didn’t you know you were pregnant?” “Why did you wait until your fever developed into myocarditis to come in!” I stared at the report, my mind reeling. 3 When I next woke, birds were chirping outside the window. The nurse removed the IV drip. I picked up my phone; it was quiet, no messages, no calls. Just as I was about to get up and leave, my phone rang. “Hello, is this Jasmine?” “This is the police station. William Vance is your boyfriend, right? He got into a fight and was brought in. Could you come down?” My head buzzed. “A fight? He—” “Both he and the other party were involved. They’re both here now; please come handle it.” I hung up, my mind a mix of panic and urgency, quickly getting out of bed and putting on my shoes. Wasn’t William with Tara? Why would he suddenly get into a fight? It had been years since he was that impulsive. My phone rang again. “Jasmine! Get online quickly! William’s been filmed!” I clicked the link my best friend sent. Video title: “E-sports Player William Vance Fights in Early Hours, Angrily Confronts Ex-Boyfriend to Protect Mysterious Woman” In the footage, William stood beneath an apartment building, his hair disheveled, a cut on his lip, blood oozing out. Tara hid behind him, her eyes red, clutching his arm. The man opposite pointed at Tara’s nose and cursed: “You only broke up with me because of him!” William shielded Tara behind him, wiping the blood from his lip: “If you dare harass her again, I’ll beat you every time.” The ex-boyfriend rushed forward, and the two men wrestled. The video shook violently; I could only hear the dull thud of fists on flesh and Tara’s screams. The comment section had gone wild. [Holy cow, William is so alpha! What a boyfriend!] [Who’s that girl? His girlfriend?] [Looks like the operations manager from their club, I’ve seen her on streams before!] [William getting mad for his lady, I’m swooning!] [William didn’t deny it, isn’t this basically official?] My chest felt tight, struggling to breathe. I stared at those comments, my fingers clenching until they were white. We had been together for seven years. His fans didn't even know I existed. He always told me that his profession was unique, that e-sports players didn't date, and that if they made mistakes, fans would still forgive them. But if he dated, any slight drop in performance would be blamed on him being distracted by romance. For his career, I endured it. But what was this now? 4 In the police station hallway, I spotted Tara immediately. She sat on a bench, her shoulders shaking. William stood beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder, talking to her quietly. Hearing footsteps, he looked up, his eyes flickering. I said nothing, turning to sign the papers and pay the fine. When I returned, Tara got up to meet me. “Jasmine…” She grabbed my hand, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, I dragged William into this. I didn’t know it would cause him to get hurt, or that someone would film it…” She cried, tears falling like pear blossoms after a rain. Then she looked up at William, her tearful eyes filled with dependence. William raised a hand and gently ruffled her hair, his voice incredibly tender. “Who else is going to look out for you? If you have trouble, who else would you call?” I turned to walk out. “Jasmine!” William ran after me. I didn’t look back. Back home, just as I set my bag down, William hugged me from behind. His chin rested on my shoulder, nuzzling me affectionately: “You were scared today, weren't you? Don’t be angry, it was just an accident, Tara’s situation…” His hand rested on my lower abdomen. There, a tiny life. Seven years. I had been with him since I was twenty. We lived in a basement apartment, and at our poorest, we only ate instant noodles. He played games, and I worked three part-time jobs to support him. Now, finally, we had made it through the hard times. Was I willing to break up over these things? I closed my eyes, then opened them again. I turned to face him. “William, let’s get married.” “Why so sudden…” He froze. “We’ve been together for seven years, shouldn’t we get married?” A flicker of panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by a forced smile. “Why are you bringing this up again? Honey, I told you, I’m in a career upswing right now, I need to focus on competitions. Marriage can wait…” “Then announce me,” I interrupted him. “Clarify that I am your girlfriend. I don’t like people speculating about you and Tara.” He frowned. “Why do you care what strangers on the internet say? As long as we’re good, isn't that enough?” “You used to say not to go public because you were afraid of upsetting your fans.” I stared into his eyes. “What about now? Aren’t your fans supportive?” “Don’t be difficult, Jasmine. If I announce you now, how will the public view Tara?” He looked away, his voice softening as he tried to appease me: “Listen, I’m doing this to protect you, aren’t I?” “Protect me?” “If your past working at the club as a bartender were dug up, you know how vicious people online are; they’d definitely cyberbully you.” I looked at the man before me, feeling an unprecedented sense of unfamiliarity. “Are you afraid they’ll slander me, or are you afraid they’ll look down on you?” William’s face changed. “Jasmine, what do you mean by that?” “Are you afraid others will look down on me, or is it that you look down on me?” Silence cut through the air like a knife, slicing me inch by inch. “Fine.” I nodded, my voice beginning to tremble. “You won’t say it, will you? Then I’ll say it for you. “You’re the last person who has the right to look down on me!” “Back then, you were dead set on e-sports, cooped up at home playing games all day. If I hadn’t gone to the club to earn extra money to support you, would you be where you are today?” William’s face flushed instantly. “Why are you bringing this up? Are you trying to use it against me? “Haven’t I given anything? Haven’t I been good to you all these years? Haven’t I provided emotional support?” His arrogant words left me stunned. A tight cramp seized my lower abdomen. “Get out.” My voice suddenly became calm. He was bewildered. “What?” “Get out.” I pointed to the door. “I don’t want to see you.” His face alternated between red and white. He slammed the door shut as he left. 5 In the evening, I drifted into a drowsy sleep. Woken by a ringing phone. My best friend’s voice was frantic: “Jasmine! Come downstairs quickly! I’m outside your building, it’s urgent!” My head throbbed as if it would split open, my throat sore and dry. “I’m not feeling well today, can we reschedule?” “No! Hurry down! It’s a big deal!” I struggled to get up, felt my forehead—it seemed I was feverish again—and threw on a jacket before heading downstairs. I was shoved into a car and driven directly to a fancy club. The moment the private room door opened, confetti sprayed over my face. “Surprise!” William had hired a party planning team. The room was filled with balloons and lights, and there was even a photographer. A banner hung on the wall—"Jasmine, I’m Sorry." William stood in the center, holding a large bouquet of roses, his smile gentle and sincere. “Honey.” He walked over, knelt on one knee, and placed the flowers in my arms. “This morning was my fault, my attitude was wrong. I regretted it the moment I left, and I felt I had to formally apologize.” “All these friends are here to witness. I promise I’ll never argue with you again. Please forgive me, okay?” Everyone applauded and cheered: “Forgive him! Forgive him!” I stood at the doorway, feeling cold all over. But not a trace of emotion. All I wanted was for us to be together, a quiet hug, just the two of us. Not like this. Not a room full of people, not confetti and banners. Not being put on display for everyone to watch, forced to nod, forced to smile magnanimously, forced to forgive. William got up, put an arm around my shoulder, and looked down at me: “What’s wrong? You look terrible. Still upset?” Before I could open my mouth. Tara squeezed in, holding a glass of wine, and with a sweet smile, offered it to me. “Jasmine, please forgive William.” “You don’t know how much effort he put in today. He started running around arranging the venue first thing this morning, even picked out the balloon colors himself. We’re all so jealous of you.” She paused, then tilted her head to look at me. “But Jasmine, you haven’t even smiled since you walked in.” “William put in so much effort, you should at least give him some face. So many people are watching; it makes things so hard for him…” Her tone was aggrieved and innocent. The entire room fell silent. Everyone’s gaze landed on me. William’s hand on my shoulder stiffened. I looked at him. Then at Tara. Suddenly, I smiled. “You envy me? Envy me for what? “Envy that every birthday, every anniversary, every surprise is such a half-hearted gift? “Envy that after a long day, I still have to force myself to party all night with a group of people, and at the end of the month, I’m still robbing Peter to pay Paul to pay off credit cards, because my boyfriend says he spent all his money on me? “Or envy that I’ve been in a relationship for seven years, and it still has to be kept a secret?” The room was completely silent. William’s face changed: “Jasmine, you—” I pushed his hand away, looking at Tara. “You want them?” I picked up the bouquet of roses and placed them in her arms. “They’re yours. “And William, if you want him so much, he’s yours too.” Tara stood there, stunned, holding the flowers. “Jasmine!” William grabbed my wrist, his voice very low. “I know you’re still angry with me. I’ve already apologized. There are so many people here; give me some face. Let’s go home and talk, okay?” “I don’t want your apology.” William panicked, his face alternating between red and white: “Then what do you want? Tell me! I’ll do anything, alright?” “Do you want me to announce our relationship? If you really want that, then I can forget about my career and announce you as my girlfriend right now…” He stopped. Because I gently pulled away from him, smiling and shaking my head. “I don’t want it anymore.” I turned to walk out. William chased after me, grabbing my wrist again: “Jasmine, explain yourself! What do you mean, you don’t want it anymore?” “Let go!” I struggled to shake him off. In my panic, my side violently hit a metal door handle. Sharp pain shot through me, quickly spreading to my entire abdomen. A spasm came from deep within my lower belly, as if something was being fiercely clutched and torn downwards. I doubled over in pain, cold sweat already breaking out. William looked down and saw my other hand clamped tightly over my lower abdomen, my fingers trembling violently. “Jasmine?” His voice changed in fear. “What’s wrong with you?” I couldn't control my body as I slid down, yet I still forced myself to open the private room door and walk out. William’s pupils contracted sharply; he suddenly embraced me. “Let go of me!” He held me tighter, his voice trembling: “Jasmine! What’s wrong? You look so pale—” My vision went black. Just then, a hand reached out from the side, gripping William’s wrist. With a forceful twist. William cried out in pain, his hand loosening its grip. I fell backward, but into an embrace. A voice came from above my head, deep and restrained. “Didn’t you hear her tell you to let go of her?”
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