The fifty-second time Owen stood me up for our appointment at the courthouse to get our marriage license, I stopped running through my memory, searching for what I might have done wrong. I stopped writing those long, rambling texts begging him to promise he’d show up next time. Instead, I opened the work group chat. Underneath the photo his childhood friend, Scarlett, had just posted—a professional shot of the two of them in bridal wear— I calmly typed a single reply: "Congrats. A long life of happiness." The air in the chat room, where my colleagues were undoubtedly taking bets on whether I’d start a fight, went silent. The very next second, the photo vanished. Owen’s name flashed on my screen, his voice glacial when I answered. “Scarlett just accidentally sent that to the wrong group. Did you have to be so passive-aggressive? How is she supposed to hold her head up at the hospital after you pull a stunt like this?” “Besides, it was just a birthday photoshoot. What’s the big deal if I helped Scarlett fulfill a silly little bride fantasy of hers? It’s just one picture. People with a dirty mind see filth everywhere.” “Retract that message and apologize to Scarlett. I’ll make time to go to the courthouse with you after I’ve finished celebrating her birthday.” Faced with his fifty-second flimsy promise, I agreed without a second thought. By the time he came back, my resignation would be processed. Then, I would end things with him. And after that, we would never meet again. 1 I hung up, and my fiancé, Owen, called me over a dozen times in a row, but I ignored every one. Next, a text from Owen flashed up. [Tess, did you just hang up on me? What, I can’t call you out when you’re in the wrong?] [Answer the phone now, or suffer the consequences!] I couldn’t blame Owen for losing his temper. Before this, I’d always been the one to compromise, always the one who spoke softly and kindly. It was always his right to hang up on me. This was the first time I’d ever ended a call on him. When I didn’t respond to his texts, he went silent. But moments later, my phone pinged with notifications: alerts that our shared status had been unbound on every couple’s app and shared account we used. I didn’t need to guess—it was Owen’s petty work. I’d lost count of how many times he’d done this. Every time he got angry, he’d sever our digital ties as a way to throw his weight around. I would always choke down my pride, apologize, and beg him to re-bind them. But now, I was truly exhausted. I couldn’t be bothered to soothe him anymore. I was about to close the chat when Scarlett posted on her social media, including a screenshot of the group chat and tagging me directly. [Oops! Accidentally shared my birthday shoot to the wrong group earlier. I only meant it as a joke for Owen, but I guess Tess took it too seriously. I won't dare to joke around like that again.] The instant the post went live, Owen—who never touched social media—slammed a huge ‘Like’ on it. Then he commented: [Scarlett, it was just a birthday photoshoot. Some people just have a sordid mind. A dirty heart sees filth everywhere.] The “some people” he meant was me. Soon, colleagues started swiping through the comments, quickly rallying to Scarlett’s defense. [Don’t blame yourself, Scarlett, it’s not your fault. Tess is just too petty and can’t take a joke.] [Seriously, it was just a lighthearted joke. Why is she making such a huge deal out of it?] I just found it bitterly amusing. Owen instantly jumped to Scarlett’s defense, protecting her image in the comments section. Yet, he always greeted me, his fiancée of ten years, with the maximum amount of malice and suspicion. When he’d stood me up for the appointment to ride a ferris wheel with Scarlett, I’d only complained a little, and he’d accused me of being paranoid and unreasonable. Now, I was quiet, I wasn’t throwing a fit, and I offered a simple, composed "long life of happiness," and he still called me passive-aggressive. It was clear: When the love is gone, everything you do is wrong. I gave a bitter smile, locked my screen, and decided I didn’t care to read any more. Snapping out of my thoughts, I registered the civil servant’s gentle voice. “Ma’am, your number has expired. Would you like to take a new ticket and rebook?” I shook my head, my voice quiet. “No, thank you.” I tore the ticket into tiny pieces and dropped it into the trash can next to me. The expired number, I didn’t want it. The expired wedding date, and the expired man, I didn’t want either. Before this, I had given Owen fifty-two chances to marry me. But every time the date drew near, he would call, claim an emergency surgery at the hospital, and brazenly stand me up. If I showed the slightest displeasure, he’d use human life to guilt-trip me. “Tess, how can you be so cold-blooded? Is a marriage certificate more important than a living person’s life?” He always positioned himself on the moral high ground to condemn me. He was confident he had fooled me, unaware that I knew everything. Every time he abandoned me for Scarlett, she would send me private messages of provocation. Photos of them watching the Northern Lights in the Arctic, making a heart shape under the Eiffel Tower… I stayed, holding onto the years we had shared, giving Owen chance after chance. But he just trampled my sincerity into the dirt. Now, even the last sliver of affection was gone. I thought, our relationship has finally reached its end. 2 Pulling my thoughts back to the present, I left the courthouse and drove to the hospital, ready to find Human Resources and finalize my departure. I had written my resignation application two weeks ago, and Owen had signed it himself two days prior. He signed it without even looking, his swiftness surprising me. He had always guarded his privacy from me—never giving me his phone password, always unlocking his phone away from my sight. Yet, he trusted Scarlett enough to share confidential hospital information with her. I thought Owen had finally lowered his guard with me. That thought evaporated the moment I saw the impeccably dressed Scarlett standing near the entrance. I instantly understood. He’d signed so quickly because he was rushing off to meet her. If I wasn’t mistaken, the necklace around Scarlett’s neck was a million-dollar diamond pendant—The Ocean’s Heart—or a close replica. Owen was wildly generous to Scarlett—a million-dollar necklace, bought on a whim. To me, he was stingy to the point of cruelty. Forget a necklace, I hadn’t had a new outfit in years. I was still wearing the same faded shirt and worn-out jeans. When I once mentioned wanting a new dress, Owen refused, sternly lecturing me about being vain, wasting money, and not appreciating how hard he worked. He told me to focus my energy on my career instead. In the end, it just meant I wasn’t worthy of him spending money on. ... At the hospital, I processed my resignation with HR. With Owen’s signature on the document, the HR manager didn't make a fuss and quickly submitted the application online. “I’ve submitted the request for you. It should take about two days to finalize. Just use this time to finish handing over your current work.” I nodded. As I left the HR office, my colleagues’ eyes followed me, full of mocking glances. “Did you hear Tess is quitting? Tsk, tsk. So what if she was with the Director for ten years? She still can’t compare to Scarlett. I bet Scarlett and the Director are getting serious soon!” “Scarlett is sweet, smart, and charming. What does Tess, that faded, yesterday’s news, have going for her?” Many of them were trainees I had personally mentored. When I’d covered for them in the past, they’d called me "Madam Director" and promised to look out for me someday. Now, seeing the political winds change, they were all tripping over themselves to kiss Owen and Scarlett’s asses. I gave a cold laugh and shot back: “Actually, I’m jumping ship. I’ve been headhunted by another hospital offering a high-six-figure salary and benefits triple what I’m getting here.” Without waiting for their faces to turn green with envy, I grabbed my packed personal belongings and walked out without a second glance. I’d just stepped outside the hospital doors when Owen called. “Tess, it’s Scarlett’s birthday today. You need to take over her patients and her research project while she’s on leave.” Before I could refuse, he instantly sent me the medical research project—a document that currently only had a title. This wasn’t the first time Owen had forced me to take over Scarlett’s work. It was always the same: I did the work, Scarlett got the credit and the fame, and if anything went wrong, I was the one who took the blame. At first, I resisted, and Owen would accuse me of being selfish and cold-hearted, threatening to take the work on himself. Since running the hospital was already exhausting for him, I always relented, choosing to compromise. But they never showed gratitude. They just took advantage, becoming more demanding and entitled. Since I was quitting anyway, I didn’t feel the need to tolerate it anymore. “I refuse. Because I’m already…” I was about to tell him about my resignation when I heard Scarlett’s soft, fragile voice in the background. “Owen, if Tess doesn’t want to, forget it. I can handle the work myself…” Owen’s voice immediately softened for her. “Scarlett, it’s your birthday. You should be celebrating happily, not stressing about work.” His voice immediately hardened again when he spoke to me. “Tess, do you realize that because of the scene you made in the group chat earlier, Scarlett feels guilty and is upset? I’m giving you a chance to atone. Don’t be so ungrateful!” I laughed in disbelief. Scarlett was celebrating her birthday, and Owen was granting her leave and obsessing over her feelings. Yet, when I had a fever, Owen refused my request for leave, insisting I come in to work. He said if I couldn’t do surgery, I could do paperwork—that moving around would help me recover faster. The result was that I got much sicker and was bedridden for two weeks. Hearing my cold laugh, Owen instantly snapped. “Tess, you’re the one who messed up, and you have the audacity to laugh? If you keep this up, I swear I’ll break up with y—” I knew Owen was about to use his go-to threat. In the past, he always leveraged a breakup to manipulate me whenever we had a disagreement. He knew I cared about him, knew I couldn't bear to leave him. But this time, I cut him off before he could finish. “Good. I was about to say the same thing. We’re over.”
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