In the seventh year of my relationship with Ruby Carrington, she picks me up from work in the heavy downpour one evening.

When I open the door to the front passenger seat, I notice a puddle of water on the seat. A strand of short hair is there as well.

Ruby grips the steering wheel without even looking at me.

"I just dropped off an intern from the project department at his home. He didn't bring an umbrella with him, so he was drenched."

As I sit on the damp seat, I feel my heart slowly going cold as well.

"Ruby, you knew very well that I'm severely germaphobic."

Ruby just chortles in response. Her tone is filled with impatience and exhaustion.

"It's just a seat, isn't it? He's younger and funnier than you, not to mention he's also more handsome than you even when he's drenched in the rain.

"I tried having a relationship with him. Being with him is definitely a lot more interesting than with you. But I'll still marry you, though. As long as you pretend not to know anything about my affair, we can keep this relationship going."

Rain continues streaking down the window outside, and yet, I find the air inside the car even more suffocating than the rain itself.

I sat down on that damp seat, the icy cold liquid instantly soaking through my expensive suit pants.

The chilling sensation spread from my skin all the way to my heart, cold enough to make me gag.

The entire way, Ruby Carrington hummed a tune I'd never heard before. She was in a great mood, completely indifferent to how I felt.

When we arrived at the restaurant—an award-winning restaurant that was almost impossible to get a table at—she still hadn't apologized for what she'd said earlier, nor did she make any attempt to reassure me.

Halfway through the meal, she suddenly pulled out a velvet box that had an engagement ring nestled inside. The velvet around the box was already somewhat worn, as if it had been handled and fidgeted with too many times.

"Put this on, Bruno. It's been seven years. The family has waited long enough."

She sat there and casually tossed the ring to me without even lifting her eyes.

The moment I slid the ring onto my ring finger, my heart sank. It was a full size too big, wobbling loosely.

She had measured my finger size herself three years ago.

"Ruby, the ring's too big."

She took a sip of her red wine, her gaze wandering.

"I remembered wrong. You can go get it resized yourself later."

Just then, the phone on the table lit up, and a WhatsApp message popped up from a contact saved as "Golden Retriever".

"Ms. Carrington, I tried on the ring in your car earlier, and I might've loosened it. Your boyfriend won't mind, right?"

I stared at the message, then at the ring on my finger. So this wasn't just an engagement ring—it was also someone else's toy.

My stomach convulsed violently, and the nauseating feeling of being violated surged through me. I took off the ring and slowly set it down among the leftover scraps on the table.

"Ruby Carrington, does everyone get to try on my engagement ring?"

Ruby's expression instantly fell. She slammed her fork down hard. "Bruno Keaton, don't test my patience! Besides me, who else can put up with your mysophobia and OCD but me?

"Em was just curious. What would a fresh graduate like him even know?"

She thought I was being unreasonable, that I was ungrateful.

She pointed at me, her eyes ice-cold. "If you won't wear it, then the wedding's off. You'd better think carefully."

I stared at the woman I'd loved for seven years. Her face was still the one I'd fallen for, but her insides had already rotted and smelled.

She was like that soaked passenger seat—filthy through and through.

"Cancel it."

I grabbed a napkin and wiped my finger carefully.

"I would never want anything dirty."

…

Ruby didn't take my breakup seriously.

She posted on her social media, "Men can't be spoiled. Once they make too much of a fuss, they're no longer adorable."

The next day, I arrived at the office on time. I was the company's CFO, as well as one of the founding members who had started the company alongside Ruby.

When I reached my office door, I noticed it was left slightly ajar. I pushed it open, and my breathing caught.

Emmett Stone, that intern, was sitting brazenly at my desk. In his hands was my fine porcelain coffee cup—the one Ruby had given me for our fifth anniversary.

But what made me feel physically ill was the slightly oversized white dress shirt he was wearing.

The cuffs of the shirt were rolled up, and the collar was opened very low. That was the spare shirt I kept in the office lounge for emergencies.

"Mr. Keaton, you're here."

But Emmett didn't get up. Instead, he just flashed me a brilliant smile. "Ms. Carrington said you weren't feeling well, so she asked me to help organize your files first."

As he spoke, he deliberately waved the cup in his hand. "This cup is really pretty. Ms. Carrington said I can have it. You won't mind, right?"

I stared at him, the suffocating pressure from my mysophobia making my fingertips go numb.

"Put it down," I said, my voice icy.

As if startled, Emmett's hand jerked. The scalding coffee poured straight onto the financing proposal I'd just printed out last night. The brown liquid instantly spread across the papers, ruining three consecutive all-nighters' worth of my work.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry!"

He jumped up in a panic, babbling apologies, but his eyes sparkled with provocation.

Colleagues around us peeked in, whispering among themselves. Among the looks they were giving us, few were of sympathy, while most were simply delighting in the drama.

Ruby walked in at that moment. She didn't even glance at the ruined papers. Her first reaction was to grab Emmett's hand.

"Did you get burned?"

Emmett's eyes reddened as he sidled next to her.

"Ms. Carrington, it's all my fault. I accidentally ruined Bruno's files."

Ruby turned to me, her brows furrowed deeply.

"It's just a document. You can redo it. Why are you being so harsh?" she snapped. "Look at yourself right now. You're like a bitter old man."

I stared at the mess on the floor. That was the final push I'd made to secure Series C funding for her. But she only had eyes for that delicate young man who knew how to act cute.

Emmett hid behind her. While she leaned in to comfort him, he mouthed something at me. "Old man."

In that instant, something inside me shattered completely.

"Ruby, get this intern out of my office right now," I said, suppressing my anger and trying to keep my tone calm.

Ruby bristled instantly. To preserve her authority in front of her new boy toy, she made an announcement right on the spot.

"Starting today, Emmett Stone is promoted to the position of executive assistant. His office will be right next to yours.

"And over the next few days, you'll personally train him on core business."

She phrased it as mentoring, but in reality, she was planning on siphoning power from me to the useless kid.

I looked at her and asked coldly, "Are you sure?"

"Bruno Keaton, don't talk to me in that tone."

With that, she left with Emmett in tow.

…

That night, back at the house, that sense of intrusion only worsened.

When I went to the bathroom to shower, I noticed that my electric toothbrush had been used. The head was wet, and it still carried the rich smell of cinnamon-flavored toothpaste from a certain brand—a brand I never used.

Back in the bedroom, my pillow smelled of cheap cologne. It was Emmett's scent.

My mysophobia flared completely out of control at that moment.

I grabbed the sheets, comforter, and pillows off the bed and furiously threw them all into the trash.

Ruby happened to walk in right then. When she saw the naked mattress, she exploded.

"Bruno Keaton! Have you lost your mind? I only brought Emmett back to grab a file, and he rested here for a little bit. Is all this seriously necessary?"

I looked at her and found the person in front of me was utterly foreign.

"You brought him into our bedroom?"

"This is my house! I can bring whoever I want!"

With that, she stormed out and slammed the door behind her, not even sparing a glance back.

Ten minutes later, I saw her social media post. The photo showed her mixing drinks for Emmett at a bar, the lighting deliberately intimate.

The caption read, "Younger ones are still better. Less rigid rules."

I sat on the living room floor, staring at the sheets in the trash. The love in my heart was being stripped away bit by bit by this unbearable disgust.

I took out my phone and dialed the headhunter's number.

"Help me get in touch with that investment bank that's been trying to poach me. I'm ready to jump ship," I told the headhunter.

At the same time, I started going through all the assets we held jointly. Since everything was already tainted, I might as well destroy it all.

…

The company's semi-annual team-building dinner was held at an upscale seafood restaurant.

Ruby insisted on bringing Emmett along and had him sit to her right. Meanwhile, I—the so-called soon-to-be fiance—was squeezed into a corner at the far end of the long table.

Throughout dinner, Ruby's attention never left Emmett. She peeled shrimp for him and tended to him with meticulous care.

No one mentioned me. I might as well have been an extra on the scene.

Suddenly, Emmett looked up, his eyes landing on one of the restaurant's signature dishes on the table—shrimp croquettes coated in thick, fruity sauce.

He spooned one up himself and, in front of everyone, placed it onto my plate.

"Mr. Keaton, this is the restaurant's signature dish. Give it a try."

He smiled innocently, but his eyes gleamed with malice.

The entire company knew that I had a severe allergy to mango and certain types of seafood. This was especially true of mango, where even the slightest trace could cause my throat to swell shut and be potentially fatal.

And the main ingredient of that dish's sauce was none other than mango puree.

Ruby had always been extremely cautious about this. Even when eating out, she'd always warn the chef in advance. But now, she merely glanced at my plate and spoke as if it didn't matter.

"Em served it to you. Just eat one. Don't embarrass him in front of everyone. You're just being a baby. Eating one won't kill you."

The colleagues around us started to egg me on, saying I should at least do her the courtesy. Their noisy clamor stabbed into my ears like sharp needles.

To prevent the scene from turning completely awkward—and to see exactly how heartless Ruby could be—I took a small bite right in front of her.

Within three short minutes, my neck began to burn. A suffocating sensation rushed over me like a tide, and I could feel my throat swelling rapidly.

"Ru… Ruby…"

I barely managed to squeeze out her name, pleading for her help.

But Ruby happened to be whispering something in Emmett's ear, and my interruption made her visibly annoyed.

"What now? Do you really need to put on an act over just one shrimp croquette?"

Just then, Emmett suddenly let out a yelp, clutching the back of his hand.

"Ouch! That hurts. I think a mosquito bit me. Look, there's a little red bump."

Ruby's expression changed instantly as she anxiously cradled his hand.

"How could you be so careless? Is it an allergic reaction?"

She frantically blew on the barely visible red spot, her eyes overflowing with concern.

"Don't worry. I've got imported ointment in the car. We'll go put it on now."

She shook off my hand, which I had stretched out in desperation, not even sparing me a glance. With Emmett pressed to her side, they walked out of the private room, leaving me behind.

Under everyone's stares, I gasped for air like a fish out of water. My vision began to blur, and my consciousness slowly slipped away.

In the end, it was a passing waiter who noticed something was wrong with me and called 911.

…

The lights in the ER were blindingly harsh. Medication was pushed into my vein by the doctor, and my oxygen mask fogged with every breath.

In that moment, while I listened to the steady beeping of the monitors, I found my heart strangely calm.

Ruby, the woman who had sworn she'd love me and honor me for the rest of her life, had abandoned me while I was on the verge of death… all for a mosquito bite.

…

It was three days later before I was discharged.

That was when Ruby finally called, and the first thing out of her mouth was a complaint.

"Bruno, where have you been the past few days? I couldn't get through on your phone either. Em is having trouble with a proposal. Hurry back to the office and help him fix it.

"And you really overdid the whole 'sick act' at the team-building dinner, too. You ruined everyone's good time."

I gripped the phone, listening to that entitled tone of hers.

My throat still ached faintly—an aftereffect of intubation.