I don’t even remember how I got home. My mind was in a haze as I collapsed onto the couch.

All around me were the stuffed toys I had once given to Lynette. The home I had so carefully created for her now seemed to mock my foolishness with every detail.

A memory surfaced—her first time stepping into this place. There was no surprise, no delight. If anything, a trace of disappointment flickered in her eyes.

She forced a smile and asked, “Zack, is this really going to be our home? Is it even 100 square meters?”

Back then, I was drunk on love and dreams of our future together. I couldn’t see her dissatisfaction or sense her indifference. I had simply beamed, saying, “This is our first little nest, full of love. Trust me, it’ll grow bigger and better! I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world!”

However, my promise brought no joy to her face. She simply asked coolly, “You just graduated. How are you paying for this place?”

Her question froze the smile on my face. I hesitated, then told her not to worry. To prove my worth to both her and my family, I took out a loan to buy the apartment. To make her happy, I borrowed money to buy gifts. I worked tirelessly to pay off those debts, taking on overtime and night shifts.

Months blurred into each other. I took more pills than meals to keep going. The effort paid off professionally. I became the fastest among my batch of interns to get a permanent position, and later, a promotion.

My father called countless times, ordering me to come home, but I always refused. I wanted to prove myself and show that my choice in Lynette was right.

Unfortunately, no matter what I did, it didn’t make her look forward to our future. Instead, she drifted further and further away.

Jim eventually approached her directly, offering to teach her business skills, grow her network, and secure clients. I’ll never forget the sparkle in her eyes when she agreed; it was a look she had never shown me.

That unease began to gnaw at me. We started pretending not to know each other at work. Eventually, even at home, we barely exchanged words. No matter how many surprises I planned after watching tutorials online or how expensive the gifts I bought for her were, she wouldn’t spare me a glance.

Once, she even forced me to return a shopping bag. “This probably cost two months of your salary, doesn’t it? It’s unnecessary. I don’t like it. Take it back.”

Later though, I saw the same item in her social media photos, labeled as her “favorite gift.” Her coworkers’ comments were filled with envy.

Neither did she ever let me appear in her posts nor did she allow me to share any pictures of her. The love I poured my entire heart into became a shameful secret in her eyes. The harder I tried to hold on, the farther she drifted away.

Now, we had completely fallen apart. I stared at the ceiling, a sharp pain constricting my chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.

Dragging myself up, I started throwing the stuffed toys into the trash one by one, along with the pitiful scraps of my love.

When I finished cleaning, the living room felt cold and empty. I opened my phone, only to see the work group chat buzzing with excitement. I scrolled up for five minutes before I found the reason: something Lynette posted just half an hour ago.

It was a photo of a luxury seaside hotel room with floor-to-ceiling windows. Reflected in the glass were two people in an intimate embrace. Her caption read: “The right person will always be part of your future.”

At that moment, whatever was left of my crumbling world completely collapsed. I grabbed a small bottle of vodka from the fridge and gulped it down. The alcohol, which I had once despised, now felt like the only thing keeping me sane.

I slumped to the floor, leaning against the corner of the couch, the buzz creeping into my head. My vision blurred, and a bitter smile tugged at my lips.

I couldn’t even tell when Lynette and I had begun to drift apart. After all, she was the one who had chased after me at the start.

In my senior year, we visited another university for a graduation exchange program and thesis presentations. I gave a passionate speech on stage, full of confidence and energy.

Afterward, my roommate told me a girl had asked for my contact information. I accepted her friend request and agreed to meet her for the first time.

We fell into a whirlwind romance, like any ordinary couple. Her warmth and sincerity left me no room to resist, and within half a month, we were officially together.

However, the moment she learned that all my university expenses came from part-time jobs, I noticed a flicker of something in her eyes—a spark of enthusiasm quietly extinguished. Not long after, her attitude began to cool. Naively, I thought she was just being reserved. So, I tried harder. I loved her more and cared for her more.

By graduation, I told her I wanted to give her a home. I promised to buy a house in full and put it in her name. She hesitated for a moment before nodding and agreeing to marry me, but added, “We’re still young. Let’s not tell anyone about it for now.”

Blinded by love, I didn’t think much of it and drowned myself in the dopamine of our relationship.

Looking back now, perhaps that was the moment I became nothing more than a tool in her eyes. Once the house was bought, I no longer held any value to her.

Tears welled up in my dry eyes as the realization hit me. I wiped them away roughly, my hands trembling as I opened my contacts and dialed my father’s number.

As the ringing echoed in my ear, I couldn’t help but wonder—if I had followed my father’s advice and gone abroad back then, would everything have turned out differently?

Alas, life doesn’t work with “what ifs.”

The call connected, and my father’s stern voice came through. I swallowed my trembling and admitted my mistakes although I didn’t go into detail about Lynette as I didn’t want to worry him.

Nonetheless, it seemed like he already understood everything. With a sigh, he said firmly, “I’ll handle this. You’ve learned enough at the branch office. Start as General Manager at the head office. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this call?”

I didn’t respond, guilt bubbling inside me.

Half an hour after the call ended, news spread in the work group chat that the General Manager from headquarters would be coming to oversee the branch office. The chat exploded with speculation and excitement.

Lynette’s recent social media post became old news. I clicked on her profile picture, intending to send a message and ask her what I had ever meant to her, but when I tried to initiate the conversation, I realized she had already blocked me.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I spent the entire night lying on the living room floor, unable to sleep.

The next day, I drove the Maybach to work. In the parking garage, just as I stepped out of the car, I spotted two people locked in a heated kiss inside an Audi. The hairpin I had given Lynette for our wedding anniversary was still in her hair.

Rage burned in my eyes as I marched forward and knocked on the car window. The first knock was ignored. Her hair was tangled in his hands, all her previous elegance and restraint completely gone. It looked as if they were moments away from tearing each other’s clothes off.

Fighting the nausea rising in my stomach, I knocked again.

This time, Jim paused, turning with irritation, clearly upset at being interrupted. When he saw me, his anger surged further. Rolling down the window, he barked, “Zack, are you out of your damn mind? Get lost! Don’t ruin my good time!”

Startled to see me, a flicker of panic crossed Lynette’s face.

“Zack, what are you doing here? Don’t you know the General Manager is visiting today? Why are you wasting time in the parking garage? Don’t tell me you’re here just to harass us. Didn’t I explain everything to you yesterday?”

As she spoke, Lynette pulled her collar up slightly, but it did little to hide the suggestive marks on her neck.

I curled my lips into a mocking smile. Before I could say anything, seemingly terrified I might mention our marriage, she hurriedly said to Jim, "I’ll go find a place to clear things up with him. You go ahead and get busy."

With that, the two of them shared a lingering, passionate kiss right in front of me. For a moment, I felt so nauseous I nearly vomited up my dinner from two nights ago.

Lynette got out of the car, disdainfully pinching my sleeve between two fingers as if it were contaminated. Noticing the unfamiliar fabric, her brows furrowed. "You bought new clothes? Whatever. It doesn’t matter. There are some things you can’t change just by changing your outfit."

At the parking garage entrance, she pulled a thick stack of divorce papers out of her bag and slapped them in front of me. "Here. Sign these."

Despite our relationship of over a year, she didn’t even spare me a glance now that she was talking about divorce. Her eyes kept darting around nervously, clearly afraid someone familiar might walk by. My face darkened.

Seeing I wasn’t responding, her impatience flared. "Sign them already. What are you waiting for? I’m already pregnant with someone else’s child. What more do you want? How can you even compete with Jim? That bag from yesterday alone costs half a year of your salary!

"If you refuse to divorce, I’ll have no choice but to take it to court! Oh, and by the way, the house you gave me before the wedding? That’s mine now. You can’t take it back in the divorce settlement!"

The thought of all my hard work and sacrifices over the past year sent a wave of bitterness surging through me. Gritting my teeth, I said, "So, throughout this marriage, you only cared about the house?"

She gave me a look like I was insane, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. "What else? You think I was drawn to your poverty or the fact that you’re an orphan?"

With that, she flung the papers in my face. The metal clip grazed my eye as the documents scattered to the ground.

Lynette didn’t even look back as she left, leaving only one final remark, “If you’re smart, sign the papers quickly and keep your mouth shut at work. I might even throw you a bone."

My fists clenched tightly under the suit jacket, nails digging into my palms. I stepped on the papers with my leather shoes and strode into the office building.

When the elevator doors opened on my floor, a group of colleagues stared at me with a mix of unease and anticipation. The moment they recognized me, they collectively cursed out loud.

"Zack, are you crazy? Showing up late is bad enough, but you took the executive elevator? Don’t you know we’ve been waiting for the leadership execs to arrive from headquarters?"

"After licking her boots for a year only to get dumped, you still have the nerve to show up? If it were me, I’d quit immediately and skip the embarrassment of handing over my work!"

Lynette appeared just then, nestled in Jim’s arms as they leisurely exited an office. Her delicate fingers fiddled with her collar as she cast me a glance.

Jim was the first to speak, his voice filled with anger, "It’s you again? Get lost before I lose my temper! Don’t you know the executives from HQ are inspecting today?"

Before he could say more, the elevator opened again. My father’s assistant stepped out, followed by several aides.

Jim’s eyes widened in shock. Letting go of Lynette, he rushed up to me, shoved me aside, and ingratiatingly said, "We’ve been waiting eagerly for you. Where would you like to start the tour?"

The assistant frowned deeply and brushed past him, heading straight for me. "Where to start? That depends on President Schumer."

The moment the words left his mouth, the air froze.

The same colleagues who had just been mocking me fell silent, their eyes darting between me and the assistant in disbelief. It slowly dawned on them that the "President Schumer" the assistant referred to was the very person they had just insulted so mercilessly.

One by one, their faces turned ashen, and the sound of their teeth grinding was almost audible as they struggled to swallow their words.

Jim’s expression turned pitch black, his face a mix of denial, suspicion, and, finally, despair.