I gave up my own college dreams just so Ethan Miller could get his PhD. During the day, I delivered food on my scooter. At night, I worked as a mall janitor. I survived on only four hours of sleep a day. Because of the physical exhaustion, I suffered two miscarriages. Eventually, I developed severe reproductive health issues and had to have half of my uterus removed. Finally, Ethan graduated. He landed a high-paying job at a listed company with a six-figure salary. He promised to give me a grand wedding. But while trying on wedding dresses, I got bored and browsed Instagram. A viral post on a local confession page caught my eye. "How do I dump my uneducated, janitor girlfriend who put me through school without looking like the bad guy?" "She can't even understand basic academic talk. It is embarrassing to take her out." "I have met a female executive at my company who truly gets me. I don't want to play savior anymore." Attached to the post was a photo of a medical report. The name was blurred, but I recognized it instantly. It was my uterine surgery report. Across the fitting room curtain, Ethan's gentle voice drifted in. "Honey, are you done changing? I can't wait to see you in that dress." I looked down and touched the ugly surgical scar on my lower abdomen. Suddenly, my ten years of sacrifice felt like a total joke.
"Babe, is the dress on yet?" I locked my phone and slipped it into the pocket of my old coat. My hand lingered on the scar on my stomach for two seconds before I pulled it away. I pushed the curtain open. Ethan blinked in surprise when he saw me still wearing my old, faded clothes. "Why did you take it off? Weren't you obsessing over that mermaid gown for days?" He set down his coffee cup, walked over, and wrapped an arm around my shoulder with a doting smile. "Is it too expensive? Don't worry about the price. Your man makes six figures now. I can easily afford a wedding dress." I took a subtle step back, slipping out of his embrace. "It doesn't fit." "How? Is the size wrong?" He frowned and turned to the sales associate. "Did you guys give her the wrong size?" The sales associate smiled apologetically. "Mr. Miller, the lady said the design is too complicated. She said it's not practical for doing chores." Ethan sighed, reaching out to ruffle my hair. "Silly girl. You're going to be a princess on our wedding day. Who's going to make you do chores?" He took my hand, his thumb gently rubbing my rough, calloused palm. "You've worked too hard these past ten years. From now on, you stay home and relax. I'll take care of you." His eyes were full of sincerity. He looked exactly like the boy who had hugged me tightly and sworn to love me forever when he got his PhD acceptance letter. If I hadn't seen that post, I probably would have cried tears of gratitude. I pulled my hand back and shoved it into my pockets. "I'm tired. I want to go home." "Alright. We'll go home and rest today. I'll take you to another boutique tomorrow." As we walked out of the bridal shop, a cold gust of wind hit us. Ethan took off his cashmere scarf and wrapped it around my neck. "Cold? Wait here. I'll bring the car around." He turned and walked toward the parking lot. I watched his retreating figure. He wore a well-tailored wool coat. He looked tall, handsome, and successful. Ethan unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for me. A cup of tea sat in the cup holder. "Your favorite. Half-sweet, no ice. I grabbed it on the way." I stared at the cup but didn't touch it. "I don't drink anymore." Ethan's hand on the steering wheel paused. "What's wrong? Is your stomach acting up again?" He reached into the glove compartment with one hand and took out a bottle of stomach medicine. "Take two tablets when we get back. I'll take a day off tomorrow to go to the hospital with you for a checkup." I leaned back against the seat, watching the city lights blur past the window. "Ethan, do you find me embarrassing?" Ethan let out a soft chuckle. "What are you overthinking now? Who would dare call my wife embarrassing?" He stopped at a red light and turned to look at my face. "Did you overhear my mom's phone call? Just ignore her. She's old-fashioned." "I only made it this far because you worked multiple jobs to support me. I will remember your sacrifice for the rest of my life." Sacrifice. He called it a sacrifice, not love. I looked down at my worn fingers. "You wrote that post, didn't you?" The light turned green. The car behind us honked. Ethan stepped on the gas, and the car smoothly crossed the intersection. "What post?" His voice was calm, showing no signs of guilt. "You spend too much time on social media. There are millions of people on Instagram. It's just a coincidence that someone has a similar story." "What about my medical report?" The smile finally vanished from Ethan's face. He pulled the car over to the curb and killed the engine. "Did you go through my phone?" I didn't answer. I just stared at him. Ethan let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "A coworker took my phone and posted that as a joke. We were playing Truth or Dare at lunch." "You actually believed a stupid prank like that?" He leaned in, trying to hug me. "I've already paid the non-refundable deposit for the wedding venue, Ava. How could I possibly want to dump you?" I lay still in his arms, letting him hold me. His coat smelled of expensive woody cologne. I had never owned a bottle of perfume in my life. Right then, his phone on the dashboard lit up. A WhatsApp message popped up on the screen: "Are you coming over tonight? I saved some dessert for you."
Ethan's eyes quickly flicked to the screen. "There's an emergency at the office." "My manager is a total workaholic. She doesn't even let us rest on weekends." I kept my eyes on the congested traffic ahead. "I see." Ethan seemed to think my reaction was too indifferent. He glanced at me. "Don't overthink it. My manager is three years older than me. She just mentors me a lot at work." "The competition for the promotion is fierce. I need to make a good impression." He patted the back of my hand. "Once I make director, we'll put a down payment on an apartment downtown. We can even bring your parents over from your hometown." Reuniting with my parents was indeed my biggest dream. In the past, whenever Ethan said things like this, I would be so moved that I'd take on extra cleaning shifts at the mall just to make more money. But now... I pulled my hand back. "No need." "My parents are doing fine where they are." The car stopped in front of our rented apartment building. Ethan didn't get out. "Babe, go upstairs and get some rest. I have to head back to the office." He pulled two hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and handed them to me. "Buy yourself something nice for dinner. Stop eating leftovers." I didn't take the money. I pushed the door open and stepped out. "Don't drink too much." I shut the door and walked straight into the dark hallway without looking back. The motion-sensor light was broken again. It was pitch black. I climbed up to the fifth floor by memory and unlocked the door. The apartment smelled of dampness that never quite went away. Ethan's faded white shirts hung on the balcony. Cardboard boxes I had collected for recycling were piled next to the sofa. I walked to the bedroom and pulled open the bottom drawer of the nightstand. There was a small metal tin inside. Inside were all the savings I had managed to scrape together over the last ten years. It was less than seven thousand dollars. During Ethan's PhD years, tuition and living expenses were a bottomless pit. I delivered food in the freezing rain by day and cleaned toilets at night. I even bought the cheapest brand of sanitary pads just to save a few pennies. One night, while scrubbing floors, my back ached so badly I collapsed. I had a miscarriage. That was how I found out I was pregnant. By the time I was rushed to the ER, the doctor said it was too late. Half of my uterus had to be surgically removed to save my life. Ethan had cried until his eyes were swollen at my bedside, swearing he would protect me with his life. And I had believed him. I took out the savings cards and slipped them into my pocket. Then, I pulled out an old duffel bag and began packing. I didn't have many belongings. A few cheap clothes bought from clearance racks, a pair of worn-out sneakers, and a few old textbooks Ethan had discarded. It took less than thirty minutes to pack my entire life. I sat on the bare mattress, looking at the framed photo of us from ten years ago hanging on the wall. In the photo, Ethan was wearing a simple white t-shirt, smiling shyly. I had my hair in a ponytail, leaning happily on his shoulder. I stood up and ripped the photo off the wall. I pulled too hard, and a chunk of the cheap wallpaper peeled off with it. The sound of keys jingling came from the front door. Ethan walked in, holding a beautifully packaged cake box. He froze when he saw the duffel bag on the floor. "What are you doing?" He set the cake on the table and rushed over to grab my hands. "Why are you putting your winter clothes away? I can toss them in the laundry for you tomorrow." He always did this. He would find a reasonable-sounding excuse rather than face what was right in front of him. I shook his hands off. "I'm moving out." The smile on Ethan's face completely hardened. His brows furrowed deeply. "Are you seriously throwing a tantrum and running away over a stupid internet post?" He took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. "I already explained it was a joke. What more do you want from me?" He pointed at the cake on the table. "I skipped my overtime and drove across three neighborhoods just to buy you your favorite strawberry shortcake." "Can you grow up for once?"
Grow up. Over the past ten years, I had heard that phrase more than anything else. When I worked two jobs and threw up blood from exhaustion, Ethan's mother told me: "Ethan has a lot of academic pressure. Grow up, Ava. Don't bother him with your minor illnesses." When I lay in the hospital bed after losing half my uterus, Ethan said: "Thank you for being so grown up, babe. I'll make it up to you when I graduate." And now, because I wanted to leave, I was being childish. I looked at the elegantly wrapped cake box. It was from an upscale bakery downtown. A single slice cost thirty dollars. It would take me three hours of scrubbing floors to earn that slice. "I'm allergic to strawberries, Ethan. I break out in hives. Did you forget?" Ethan went rigid. His eyes flickered with guilt. He had obviously forgotten. "I'm sorry, babe. Work has been so crazy lately. My mind is all over the place." He pushed the cake aside. "Forget the cake. Let me take you out for Korean BBQ." "Haven't you been wanting to try that new spot down the street?" I didn't move. "Ethan, you replied to a comment on that Instagram post." I looked at him, my voice completely flat. "You wrote: 'Every time I go home and see her rough, calloused hands, I lose my appetite.'" Ethan's face turned incredibly pale. "Do you have to make things this ugly?" He yanked his tie loose, his voice rising with anger. "Fine! Yes, I wrote it!" "But I was just venting online! I didn't actually break up with you, did I?" "Look at yourself!" He gestured at me, his eyes filled with undisguised disgust. "You always wear cheap, thrift-store clothes. You never style your hair. When I brought you to my company mixer, everyone thought you were my maid!" "Every day, I deal with sophisticated executives and elite clients. Then I come home to face your plain, worn-out face." "Do you think I don't feel the pressure?" I stood there quietly, listening to him spit out those words. Strangely, I didn't even feel pain anymore. Just an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. "If you feel so miserable, why didn't you just ask for a breakup?" I asked quietly. Ethan frustratedly ran a hand through his hair. "Because I knew you couldn't handle it!" "Your health is ruined, and you don't even have a college degree. How are you going to survive in this city without me?" He stepped closer, his voice softening again. "Ava, I admit I had a momentary lapse in judgment." "Victoria, my manager, can really help me with my career." "But that doesn't mean I don't love you." "The wedding will go on as planned. I will give you the status of being my wife." "Just stop making a scene, okay? Be a good girl and stay home as a full-time housewife." He spoke of marriage as if it were a generous charity. I picked up my duffel bag. "I have a night shift at the mall." Ethan let out a sigh of relief, thinking I had submitted yet again. "Go on then. Don't stay out too late. I'll take you to another bridal shop tomorrow." He leaned in to kiss my forehead. I didn't dodge it. As I walked out of the apartment building, the cold night wind blew against my skin, and I realized I was drenched in a cold sweat. I didn't go to the mall. Instead, I took the bus to the city hospital. My latest medical report showed that my uterine fibroids were showing signs of precancerous changes. I needed surgery immediately. But Ethan hadn't even looked at the report. He had simply taken a photo of it to gain sympathy points from strangers online.
The bus rattled along. I leaned my head against the window, watching the neon lights of the city blur past. The doctor on duty frowned deeply as he reviewed my chart. "Why did you wait so long to come in? We need to schedule the surgery immediately. This could become life-threatening." The doctor handed me a stack of forms. "Have your husband or a family member come in tomorrow to sign the consent forms and pay the deposit." I took the papers, my hands trembling slightly. "Can't I just sign them myself?" The doctor looked at me with pity. "This is a major procedure. Hospital policy requires an emergency contact or a family member's signature for post-op release." I walked out of the hospital clutching the papers. The cold wind slipped down my collar, and I wrapped my old coat tighter around myself. I pulled out my phone and opened Instagram. The post had reached the top of the local trending page. The author had updated the thread just thirty minutes ago: "She threw a tantrum today, but I easily managed her with a cheap cake. Women who have never seen the world are so easy to control. Once I get my company shares, I'll find an excuse to send her back to her small town." That was posted right after I left the apartment. I closed the app and walked to an ATM on the corner. I inserted my card to check my balance. Seven thousand two hundred dollars. It wasn't even half of what the surgery would cost. The next morning, I went to Ethan's company. It was located in a luxurious skyscraper downtown. Wearing my faded jeans and worn sneakers, I stood in the lobby looking completely out of place. The receptionist eyed me suspiciously. "Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?" "I'm here to see Ethan Miller. I'm his..." I paused. "...an old friend. I need to drop something off." The receptionist made a quick call and then pointed to the elevators. "Mr. Miller is in the conference room on the 16th floor." I took the elevator up. The door to the conference room at the end of the hall was slightly ajar. As I approached, I heard Ethan's voice. "Ms. Sterling, you can leave this project entirely to me. I won't let you down." "I trust your capability, Ethan," a woman's voice replied. "But I heard you're getting married soon? Your janitor girlfriend isn't giving you any trouble, is she?" I stopped in my tracks and looked through the gap in the door. Ethan was standing near the desk, leaning forward slightly in a highly submissive posture. Victoria Sterling sat in her executive chair, casually spinning a pen in her hand. "You must be joking, Ms. Sterling." Ethan let out a self-deprecating laugh, his voice filled with contempt. "That's not a real marriage. It's just a ceremony to quiet her down." "Someone like her can barely read a complex spreadsheet. There's no way I'd legally register a marriage with her." "Once the project bonus is cleared, I'll give her a lump sum of cash and send her back to her hometown." Victoria chuckled. "You're quite heartless. She did support you for ten years, after all." "She did that of her own free will." "She gave me her best years, but honestly, looking back, she had no self-respect." Ethan spoke with absolute self-righteousness. "Besides, I give her a monthly allowance now. I've done more than enough for her." I stood outside the door, listening to him dismiss my ten years of sweat and blood as nothing to another woman. Victoria stood up and walked toward Ethan. Her high heel accidentally caught the edge of a coffee cup on the desk. The dark liquid splashed all over her designer leather shoes. "Oh, great. They're ruined," Victoria grumbled, frowning. Ethan immediately grabbed some tissues and knelt down to clean them. I pushed the door open and walked in. Ethan's face drained of color instantly. "Ava? What are you doing here?" Victoria looked me up and down, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. "So this is your janitor girlfriend? She does look... obedient." She pointed to her shoe. "Since you're a professional cleaner, why don't you clean my shoes for me?" Ethan rushed over, grabbing my wrist tightly. "Ava, please. Just clean Ms. Sterling's shoes. My promotion next month depends entirely on her. Be reasonable."
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