I'd been with Ethan for seven years before my mom finally agreed to meet him. At dinner, the moment my mom raised her cup, Ethan's phone rang. He glanced at the screen and gave my mom an apologetic smile. "Just a moment, I need to take this call." That moment turned into forty minutes. The food on the table had long since gone cold. When he came back, his jacket reeked of women's perfume. My mom said nothing. She just looked at me. The disappointment in her eyes hurt more than any words of blame ever could. Ethan sat down beside me and ruffled my hair. "Sorry about that. Had a last-minute issue with a project." I forced a smile. A few days later, I got my marriage certificate. Only the groom wasn't him. When my mom left the restaurant, her back was slightly hunched. A taxi waited by the curb. Before she opened the door, she turned to look at me. "Rachel, just trust your own judgment." Nothing more. I nodded and watched the taxi disappear into the night. Ethan stood behind me, his hand on my shoulder. "Is your mom upset?" "No," I said. "That's good." He let out a relieved breath. "Next time I'll put my phone on silent. Today was really just an accident." I turned away, slipping out from under his hand. "What project?" "Hmm?" He looked confused. "You said there was an issue with a project," I said, meeting his eyes. "What project requires you to step outside for a forty-minute phone call?" He paused, then smiled. "Listen to that tone. You sound like you're suspicious of me. It was Serena's proposal---there was a problem with it. It's her first time handling a project this big, and she panicked. I had to calm her down." Serena. His assistant. Six months with the company. Twenty-three years old. "That took forty minutes?" "Well," he said, pulling me close---this time I didn't dodge. "It should've taken ten minutes, but she started crying. I couldn't just leave her like that. You know how girls are---once the emotions start, it's a whole thing." "Not like you, though." He looked down at me, his gaze tender. "My Rachel always understands." A bitter taste spread through my chest. It was always like this. He always said I was the most understanding, then felt perfectly justified giving his time and patience to someone else. "Ethan." "Yeah?" "Today was the first time my mom met you." His hand stilled. "I know." "She dyed her hair specially for today." My voice was flat. "She hasn't dyed her hair in ten years." Ethan was silent for a few seconds. Finally, he just patted my shoulder. "I know. That's why I feel even worse. Next time, I promise I'll make it up to her properly." "Let's find a time. I'll take her to that Italian place she likes. Sound good?" He finished speaking and glanced at his watch. "It's getting late. Let me take you home. I have an early meeting tomorrow." He raised his hand to hail a cab. I stood there, watching his profile. The streetlight stretched his shadow long across the pavement. He was still the same Ethan---always saying things no one could fault. But suddenly I remembered three years ago, when my mom first said she wanted to meet him. Back then Ethan had said, "Let me get a bit more established first. I want to give her a better impression." Two years ago, my mom brought it up again. He'd said, "Next year. Once this project wraps up, I'll have more free time." Last year, he said he was preparing for it. This year, they finally met. And then came today. The car stopped in front of my building. Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over for a goodnight kiss. I lowered my head, pretending to search through my bag, and avoided it. "I'm tired. Drive safe." His hand froze mid-air. After a moment, he pulled it back. "Alright. Get some rest." I got out of the car. The moment I closed the door, I heard his phone ring again. He answered it, his voice warm with laughter. "Still awake? Don't cry. I looked over the proposal for you..." The car started and drove away. I stood downstairs, watching the taillights disappear around the corner. My phone buzzed. A message from my mom: "Are you asleep yet?" My finger hovered over the screen for a moment, then I typed: "Not yet." After a while, she sent another message: "Rachel, I'm not old-fashioned. If you really love him, I won't stop you." "But I'll say this once." "Don't undervalue yourself."
I sat on the couch until two in the morning. Only a floor lamp lit the living room. On the coffee table lay a photo of my mom and me, taken on her birthday last year. In the picture, her eyes were crinkled into crescents from smiling, holding the scarf I'd given her. I'd spent a month picking out that scarf. It cost half my monthly salary. When Ethan saw the price tag, he'd said, "You're buying her something this expensive? She won't even have anywhere to wear it." I didn't respond. I bought it anyway. My mom was so happy when she received it, but she never wore it out. She said she was saving it for an "important day." Like today. I stared at her smiling face in the photo, feeling my throat tighten. I got up and went to my bedroom, pulling an old tin box from the top shelf of the closet. Inside were things from Ethan and me over the years. Movie ticket stubs, amusement park passes, birthday cards he'd written. At the very bottom was a yellowed sticky note he'd slipped into my backpack in college: "Once I graduate and start earning money, the first thing I'll do is marry you, so your mom won't worry." The handwriting was messy, but every word pressed hard into the paper. I stuck the note back in the box and closed the lid. My phone buzzed again. A message from Ethan: "Did you get home? Get some sleep." I stared at the message without replying. Five minutes later, he sent another: "Still mad?" "I booked an Italian restaurant for tomorrow lunch. I'll take your mom. You come too." I stared at the screen for a long time. Finally, I typed: "No need." He replied quickly: "What's wrong? Are you really angry?" "Rachel, I know I didn't do well today, but you have to understand---Serena's project is really important." "I'm at a critical point in my career right now. Once I get through this phase, I'll give you all my time, okay?" I didn't respond. I closed the chat window and scrolled to a contact labeled "Mrs. White." Three months ago, my mom had asked someone to set me up on a blind date. This was the mother of that potential match. I'd refused immediately back then. My mom had said, "Just keep the contact. You never know." I'd saved it but never planned to use it. Now, I sent Mrs. White a message: "Hello Mrs. White, this is Rachel. About what we discussed before---would that still be possible?" After sending the message, I turned off my phone. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My mind kept replaying my mom's expression today. And the perfume smell on Ethan's jacket. It wasn't the brand I used. The next morning, when I woke up, I had over a dozen messages on my phone. Ethan had sent seven or eight, ranging from "good morning" to "why are you ignoring me" to "what's wrong with you." Mrs. White had replied: "Of course! The young man is wonderful. How about meeting this weekend?" And one from my mom: "Rachel, are you okay?" I replied to my mom first: "I'm fine. Don't worry." Then Mrs. White: "Yes, thank you Mrs. White." Finally, I opened Ethan's chat window. His latest message was from ten minutes ago: "Rachel, aren't you being too childish?" "I already apologized. What more do you want?" I stared at those two sentences, my finger hovering over the screen for a long time. In the end, I typed: "Let's break up."
Ethan's call came through three seconds later. I didn't answer. He called five more times. When the sixth call came in, I picked up. Before I could speak, his voice came through. "Rachel, are you done throwing your tantrum?" His tone was clearly impatient. "I'm not throwing a tantrum," I said. "I'm serious." "Serious?" He gave a cold laugh. "You're joking about breaking up? Rachel, how old are you? Why are you still so immature?" "I'm not joking." "Then what do you mean?" His voice rose. "Just because I took a phone call yesterday, you want to break up with me? Don't you think that's ridiculous?" "It's not because of yesterday," I said calmly. "It's because of these seven years." He paused. "What seven years? What are you trying to say?" "I'm saying," I looked out the window, "I'm tired, Ethan." "I've waited seven years. You're always waiting for the next time. Next time the project ends, next time things are more stable, next time you have more time." "But there's never a next time." He was silent for a few seconds, then his voice softened. "Rachel, I know you feel wronged. But you have to understand---I'm at a critical point in my career right now..." "I understand," I interrupted him. "I've always understood." "So you---" "But I don't want to understand anymore." The line went quiet for a moment. "Rachel," his voice turned cold again, "did your mom say something to you?" "I could see her expression yesterday. She clearly has a problem with me. Did she tell you to break up with me?" My grip on the phone tightened. "This has nothing to do with my mom." "How does it have nothing to do with her?" His tone carried a hint of sarcasm. "You were never like this before. You saw her yesterday and suddenly you changed." "Rachel, you're twenty-nine years old. Can you stop listening to everything your mom says?" I closed my eyes. "Ethan, I'm meeting someone this weekend." "Who?" "A blind date." The line went completely silent. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice full of disbelief. "What did you say?" "I said I'm going on a blind date this weekend." "Rachel!" He practically shouted. "Do you even know what you're saying?!" "I do," I said, my voice flat. "I'm completely clear-headed." "Clear-headed?" He laughed bitterly. "If you were clear-headed, you wouldn't say something like this!" "A blind date? You've been with me for seven years, and now you're going on a blind date? Rachel, do you have any---" "We've already broken up," I interrupted. "As of right now." "So me going on a blind date is perfectly reasonable." "You---" He seemed too angry to speak. After a long moment, he finally said, "Fine. Go." "Go on your blind date. Meet a hundred people if you want." "Rachel, I'll be watching to see how long you can keep this act up." He hung up. I put down the phone. My hand was trembling slightly. But my heart felt calm.
My mom called ten minutes later. "Rachel, did you and Ethan have a fight?" I was startled. "How do you know?" "He just called me." My mom's voice sounded tired. "He said you're going on a blind date and asked me to talk you out of it." "He also said you were influenced by me, and told me not to give you bad ideas." I closed my eyes. "Mom, don't worry about it. This is my own decision." "I know." She said, "I just wanted to ask if you're serious about this." "Yes." The line was silent for a moment. "Then I support you." Her voice was soft. "You're my only daughter. I just want you to be happy." "If he truly cared about you, I wouldn't care about losing face yesterday." "But if he can't even care that much, I can't trust him with you." My eyes began to sting. "Mom..." "Don't cry." Her voice carried a hint of a smile. "Why cry? This is a good thing." "I already asked Mrs. White about it. The man is a teacher---solid and reliable. Meet him this weekend. If it doesn't work out, just think of it as making a friend." "And if it works out..." She paused. "I hope you won't be deceived by a man again." Tears rolled down my cheeks. "Mom, I disappointed you." "Silly child," she sighed. "You've never disappointed me. I just feel bad for you." After hanging up, I sat on the couch in a daze for a long time. My phone buzzed again. A message from my best friend Sophie: "I heard you're going on a blind date?!!" "Did that jerk Ethan call you?" I replied: "I'm the one who initiated the breakup." She responded instantly: "You should've broken up ages ago!!" "I've been side-eyeing him forever!!" "Remember your birthday last time? He said he was on a business trip, but I saw his assistant's location check-in on social media---she was in the same city!" I stared at this message, my fingers going cold. I called Sophie. "When was this?" "Last month, on your birthday." Sophie said, "I wanted to tell you then, but you were swamped with that project. I didn't want to distract you." "Wait, let me find it for you." Soon, she sent me several screenshots. From Serena's social media. The photos showed a restaurant with candlelight and wine on the table. The caption read: "Thanks to Mr. Hayes for the guidance. This newbie is finally making progress!" The location showed our city. Posted at 8 PM on my birthday. That day, Ethan had told me he was on a business trip in another city. The project was urgent, and he'd have to work late. He told me to celebrate my birthday without him and promised to make it up when he got back. I stared at that photo for a long time. Candlelight, wine, warm lighting. And Serena's eyes curved into crescents from smiling. "Rachel, are you okay?" Sophie asked carefully. "I'm fine." I heard my own voice, completely calm. "Thank you for telling me." "Are you really going on this blind date?" "Yes." "Then I'm coming with you." She said, "I'm not letting you go alone." I smiled slightly. "Okay." After hanging up, I opened my chat history with Ethan. I scrolled up to a month ago. That day I'd messaged him: "When are you coming back?" He'd replied: "The project's a bit tricky. Might be a couple days late. Happy birthday, babe. I'll make it up to you when I get back." I'd responded with: "Okay." Looking at that message now. Every word felt like a joke. That weekend, Sophie came with me to meet the person Mrs. White had introduced. His name was Nathan, thirty-one, a high school teacher. He was a quiet person, didn't talk much, but answered questions very earnestly. He asked me, "Have you really broken up?" I was taken aback. He smiled. "I heard you had a boyfriend you were with for a long time. I don't mind, but I want to know if you've really moved on. I don't want to be anyone's substitute." I looked at him, suddenly feeling this person was very sincere. "I've moved on," I said. "Or rather, I'm in the process of moving on." He nodded. "That's good." "I can wait for you to fully move on." After the meeting ended, Sophie pulled me aside. "This guy's pretty good. Way better than that scumbag Ethan." "And did you see how he looked at you? He genuinely likes you." I smiled without responding. My phone buzzed. A message from Ethan: "Done with the blind date?" "So, how was it? Meet your standards?" His tone dripped with sarcasm. I didn't reply. He sent another message: "Rachel, I'm giving you three days to cool off." "If you don't come back after three days, don't blame me for what happens next." I looked at this message and smiled faintly. I closed the chat window. Opened my contacts and sent Nathan a message: "Nathan, thank you for today. If it's convenient, could we get our marriage certificate tomorrow?" He replied quickly: "Of course." I put away my phone. Sophie leaned over. "What are you texting?" "Getting married tomorrow." "So fast?!" Her eyes widened. "You're serious?" I looked across the street at a coffee shop. Five years ago, Ethan had told me in that very place that once his career stabilized, he'd marry me. "Yes. Completely serious."
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