1 My fifteen-year relationship with Molly shattered in a fierce argument about her stubborn refusal to consider marriage. The next day, as a TV reporter, I was assigned to cover a live broadcast from the City Hall registry office. When I interviewed a young man, a random question popped up on the live stream's comments, dripping with malice: "What's the cruelest thing your wife has ever said to you?" I was about to skip over this potentially thorny question, but the guy smiled shyly at the camera and answered softly, "She never yells at me. The worst thing she probably ever said was calling me a clumsy idiot when I burned my hand." He went on to explain that his wife was fourteen years older than him, and she cherished him deeply. She always said he’d been with her since he was so young, and she wanted to spoil him rotten. That’s why he chose his twenty-second birthday to get married. The comments section exploded with "Aww, couple goals!" and I found myself smiling too, ready to offer my congratulations. Just then, a woman walked up and threw herself into his arms, asking intimately, "Honey, what are you talking about?" I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, my blood freezing in my veins. The microphone clattered to the ground with a sickening thud. Because that woman was Molly, my girlfriend. And just last night, she had spat at me, "You have any self-respect? Would you have been my lapdog at seventeen, begging me to be with you? Always paranoid. Hell, I’m the one who suspects you’re seeing other women!" … The moment our eyes met, a flicker of panic crossed Molly’s face, but it quickly settled into a cold calm. She shot me a warning glance, subtly shaking her head. I felt like someone had their hand clamped around my throat, my limbs stiff and useless as I stood rooted to the spot. The young man, ever so kind, picked up the microphone and handed it back to me, a playful grin on his face. "What's wrong, Anchor? Did my wife’s beauty stun you?" Molly laughed, playfully tapping his chest. "Stop talking nonsense. Let's go, didn't you want Japanese food?" He let out a delighted yelp, leaning down to kiss her. "Thanks, babe. You’re the best, babe." That word, "babe," pierced my heart without warning, leaving a raw, bleeding wound. How utterly pathetic. Fifteen years with Molly, and I never even had the right to call her that. Seeing me still pale and frozen, the young man grumbled, though his eyes were brimming with amusement: "My wife usually won't take me because she’s worried I’ll get sick. But since it’s our wedding day, she’s finally letting me go wild. Babe, you know I’m the boss today, right?" Molly didn't spare me another glance, her gaze tender and affectionate as she looked at him. "Alright, alright, boss. Let's go." She took his hand, her steps composed as they walked past me. Not a single hesitation, as if I were nothing more than an irrelevant stranger. A torrent of questions lodged in my throat, like countless needles, pricking me until I bled internally. The cameraman behind me gestured, reminding me the live broadcast was still running. Swallowing back my tears, I hastily ended the segment and hurried after them. Under the young man's astonished gaze, I articulated each word: "Molly, we’re done." … On the ride home, I huddled in the corner of the taxi, burying my face in my hands and sobbing uncontrollably. Molly and I had been together for fifteen years. During our poorest days, we squeezed into a leaky basement apartment, sharing a single cup of instant noodles. She’d give me the only egg, while she just drank water to stave off hunger. When winter hit, she'd tuck my hands into her clothes to warm them, shivering herself but never once complaining. I never felt the hardship either. Because she told me we’d work hard together, and when we both made it big, she’d wear the most beautiful wedding dress and marry me in style. I worked for ten years, and waited for five. Finally, I was successful, and she was wealthy. But she married another man. Back home, I started packing my suitcase. Molly must have returned at some point, because every item I put in, she’d pull out. Finally, she grabbed my wrist with a tight grip, kicked over the suitcase, and snarled, her eyes bloodshot: "Ethan, what the hell do you think you’re doing? What's with all the drama?" Tears welled up instantly, and I clutched my chest in agony, my voice hoarse. "Drama? Molly, you married another man. What am I supposed to stay for? To be your side piece?" Molly collapsed onto the sofa, pulling out a cigarette. She brought it to her lips, then silently snuffed it out. "Ethan, it’s not what you think with him." "He’s Professor Cohen’s son, Liam. Professor Cohen passed away and entrusted Liam to me. I have to take care of him." Professor Cohen, Molly’s benefactor. If he hadn’t invested in Molly’s project back then, she wouldn't be where she was today. I curled my fingers, my eyes closing in numb despair. "So you have to marry him and take care of him for the rest of your life? What about me?" Molly frowned, about to speak. Her phone rang, and her eyes instantly softened. "Liam, what's wrong?" Liam sobbed into the phone. "Molly, is Ethan still mad? Have you explained it to him? Or maybe I should… Ah!" A heavy thud echoed from the other end. Molly immediately stood up, her voice laced with panic. "Liam, what happened? Don't scare me." Liam's voice trembled. "Molly, I fell. It hurts so bad." Molly soothed him gently. "Don't be scared, I'll be right there." Hanging up, she grabbed me, her tone brooking no argument. "You’re coming with me. Liam and I will explain everything to you in person." I yanked my hand back, but Molly dragged me all the way to Liam’s place. What made it even more disheartening was realizing Liam lived just upstairs from me. I couldn’t bear to think about all those nights Molly claimed to be working late or leaving in the middle of the night. Had she been with Liam all along? Molly, her face full of concern, helped Liam out of the bathroom. Liam was naked, pressing himself close against her. Seeing me, his eyes red and swollen, he said: "Ethan, I'm sorry. I didn’t know you were Molly’s boy… friend. Please don’t fight with her. She's just being kind and taking care of me." I said nothing, and his eyes welled up with more tears. Molly snarled. "Ethan, Liam’s talking to you. Can’t you answer him? Do you have any manners?" A sharp ache tightened in my chest. After a long silence, I finally whispered, "I understand." Liam’s tears turned to a smile, and he tugged at Molly’s sleeve. "Molly, my foot hurts so bad. I think I twisted it." Molly immediately knelt down, carefully cupping his foot and gently massaging it. "Where does it hurt?" Watching them, I suddenly remembered the time I broke my leg protecting her in a car accident. I was in so much pain I couldn't sleep all night, begging her to put medicine on it. She had impatiently brushed my hand away. "Ethan, you know I’m a germaphobe." Turns out, her germophobia was just for me. Molly expertly walked over to a cabinet and started rummaging for liniment. The moment she left, Liam's face contorted into a venomous sneer. "Ethan, why are you such a pathetic loser? Molly and I are legally married. What are you? A side piece trying to stand here?" His voice grew even nastier. "I hear you’ve been with Molly for fifteen years? How sad. All that time and you never even got a marriage certificate. Someone like you, a shameless mooch, should go find a sugar mommy at a club while you still have some looks. Though, I wonder if you can even get it up anymore?" My heart seized, and I angrily looked up. But before I could do anything, he suddenly flushed, slapped himself hard across the face, and collapsed to the floor. "Ethan!" Molly rushed over, shielding Liam in her arms. Liam clutched his face, accusing me through tears. "Molly, I was just apologizing to Ethan, and he suddenly hit me. It’s all my fault. I shouldn't have let you take care of me. I'll leave, I'll just leave, okay?" I was shaking with rage. "You’re lying! You clearly—" "Enough!" Molly cut me off coldly, gripping my arm tightly. "Apologize to Liam." In that moment, the last bit of air I was holding onto in my chest simply deflated. I managed a weak smile, my eyes burning. "Molly, you can’t even see through such a cheap trick? That’s… quite disappointing." I shook off her hand and walked out calmly. As I watched the elevator indicator lights, I remembered being seventeen. I was cornered and bullied by a group of guys in the hallway. When a kind classmate found us, the ringleader turned the tables, slapping himself hard and preemptively telling the teacher: "Teacher, Ethan hit me." I was just an ordinary student from a single-parent home, and the teacher, not wanting to get involved, was about to give me a disciplinary notice. Molly was the one who helped me. Dressed in a white dress, she leaned casually against the railing, lazily telling the teacher: "Teacher, you can’t even see through such a cheap trick?" She pulled out a video, proving my innocence. She said, "You follow me from now on, be my little brother, and no one will ever dare bully you again." The girl's smile was too dazzling, it captivated my heart. And I followed, for fifteen years. But I never imagined that the boomerang of time, after all its twists and turns, would ultimately strike the one who first wielded it. Back home, I continued packing, but my phone kept buzzing. I picked it up and saw that the clips from today’s live broadcast had gone viral. Someone recognized Liam; he was a moderately popular college blogger. I clicked into the account a netizen had found. His latest post showed him and Molly with their fingers intertwined, a marriage certificate displayed in front of them. "Married my crush of many years, so happy~" I suppressed the bitterness in my heart and scrolled further down. In Liam’s posts, I saw Molly, who never lifted a finger at home, cooking for him with her own hands. I saw her, someone who never ate spicy food, going to the hospital with gastritis after eating spicy meals with him. And then there was the day my father passed away. I was home alone, heartbroken to the point of heart failure. She was away on a business trip and called me after hearing the news. But at the same time, the boy’s post showed: "Wife on the phone while doing it, so hot." Turns out, the choked voice I thought was her comforting me, was just her gasping while in bed with another man. I sat in the darkness, stunned, all night. Molly didn't come back until noon the next day. I got straight to the point. "You slept with him, didn't you? Happy?" Molly paused, mid-shoe change, her face instantly darkening. "Watch your mouth. Liam was crying all night, I was comforting him." I raised my hand, pointing to the hickey on her neck. "Comforting him in bed?" Molly froze. I then handed her Liam’s social media page. Molly was completely silent. After a long pause, she spoke: "He's just a kid, posting for fun. Don't go bothering him. It's all my fault." No explanation, no apology. Her first instinct was to protect Liam. Tears instantly streamed down my face. "Molly, don't you guys feel… disgusting?" Seeing my tears, Molly was about to embrace me, but her face darkened when she heard my words. She scoffed. "Clean? You think you're clean? Ethan, you've been with me all these years, circling me like a lapdog. I told you to get a vasectomy, and you went right away. You’re infertile now, a cripple. At least Liam isn't like you; he's young, vibrant, whole!" "You forgot how you begged me like a dog to protect you back then. You think if you leave me, anyone out there will want you? Who would ever care about a rotten person like you?" I stared at her, an extreme sorrow washing over me even before anger could. At eighteen, we first experimented with intimacy. Two clueless individuals, fumbling through it, supporting each other every step of the way. Later, through those difficult years, I stood by her. She said she didn't want children, and I, without a second thought, got a vasectomy. The inability to ever have children, it was the deepest pain in my heart, and I thought she’d be touched. But now I knew, in her eyes, I was a cripple, a useless man. I stared blankly at the face I had loved for fifteen years, suddenly wondering when she had become so… rotten. The girl in the white dress, she had truly died completely in my heart. Realizing she’d spoken out of turn, a flicker of regret crossed Molly’s eyes, but she was interrupted by a phone notification. She glanced at it, and her face instantly turned ashen. Molly lunged, viciously seizing my throat and kicking me to the floor. "Ethan, don't think I won't hurt you just because you’ve been with me for years. If anything happens to Liam, I’ll make you pay for it!" Seeing my stunned expression, she slammed her phone onto my face. "Look what you’ve done!" On the screen, my name glared back, every word accusing Liam of being a homewrecker. The language was vicious, sickening. Liam, unable to withstand the online bullying, was now on a rooftop, threatening to jump. I stared at her, my voice trembling. "You think I posted that?" Molly’s eyes were ice cold. "Who else would it be? How could you be so evil? Using such a despicable tactic against a kid." She stood up, looking down at me. "I only planned to take care of Liam for a while, grant a few of his wishes, and then marry you. But now, I’ve changed my mind." "Ethan, you will pay the price." She slammed the door shut as she left. My chest felt like it was being ripped open, making it hard to breathe. I forced myself to go to work. The moment I arrived at the TV station, my boss called me into his office. "You’re fired. Get out." I stood frozen, my mind a blank. Walking out of the building, the streets were filled with strange, judgmental stares. Before I could even process it, my phone was bombarded with messages. Molly had posted a statement online, accompanied by her marriage certificate and a forged psychiatric evaluation report: "Liam and I are married. Ethan was merely a childhood acquaintance. He's mentally unstable, and out of old affection, I continued to look after him, never imagining he would slander my husband." The entire internet erupted in condemnation. "A mentally ill person working as an anchor? How disgusting. People treat him as a friend, he treats them as his wife." "Delusional, truly terrifying." "Wow, his information has been dug up. He bullied others in high school. Such a rotten person trying to latch onto CEO Molly." I stared at the news on my phone, filled with twisted truths, and felt my vision go black, collapsing heavily to the ground. When I opened my eyes again, Molly had me confined. Until Liam came knocking.
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