After dating for seven years, I proposed a hundred and one times to my boyfriend, Jason Brown. However, he always told me that he was not ready, rejecting my proposals.

This continued to my 28th birthday. In his suit pocket, I found a ring box.

Thinking he was about to propose to me, I was overjoyed. However, to my horror, I saw him going down on one knee to propose to his assistant, Marcella Hopkins.

Right before my eyes, he placed the ring I had yearned for so long on her finger.

When one of his buddies asked what he planned to do with me, Jason wrapped his arm around his new love and chuckled.

"Dude, I don't think I can bring myself to marry a woman who wants to get married that badly. She's so needy. However, if I do get a second wife, I might consider her. After all, she is hopelessly in love with me."

He was sure I would wait for him, and he even placed a bet with his friends that I would crash his wedding.

However, on his wedding day, I never showed up.

Moments before his wedding ceremony was about to start, he suddenly noticed me, fully dressed up in a wedding gown in a separate banquet hall.

Seeing me about to marry someone else, he almost went crazy.

"Mom, I've thought it through. I'll go on that blind date tomorrow."

On the other end of the phone, my mother let out a derisive laugh.

"What, finally got dumped by Jason?"

"I told you long ago. If a man's been with you for years without mentioning marriage, it's because he doesn't want to marry you.

"And now look at you. You've dragged it out until you're twenty-eight with no one willing to marry you, making even your grandmother worry herself sick. Aren't you ashamed?"

With just a few words, my mother smashed my self-esteem to smithereens before hanging up impatiently.

I stared at the phone screen for a long while, so lost in thought that I did not even notice when Jason Brown came back.

"Why are you dressed up so nicely? Going out later?"

His voice was low and smooth as he leaned down, his chin brushing my shoulder.

That familiar scent enveloped me, yet all I felt was a suffocating heaviness in my chest. I gently pushed him away.

"I just got back. I'll take my makeup off in a bit. What are you doing here?"

"What kind of question is that? I just went out with Bruno and the guys for a drink. Where else would I go if not home?"

Jason smiled as he countered, his eyes brimming with an affection that seemed to be reserved for me alone.

I pressed my lips together.

He was lying. He was obviously out meeting his fiancée instead.

Jason could not see the cracks in my heart, nor did he know that I already knew everything. He pulled me into his arms as though nothing had changed.

"Alright, don't be mad. Next time I'll take you with me," he teased against my ear, dismissing my silence as nothing more than a woman's temper.

His gaze grew hungry, predatory, as if he might devour me whole the very next second.

But before anything else could happen, his phone buzzed on the table.

With a frown, he stood and answered it.

I exhaled in relief until I heard the syrupy, delicate voice on the other end.

"Honey, someone's knocking on my door. I'm scared!"

That one word sent my heart plummeting into the abyss.

Jason's expression stiffened. He did not even glance at me, too absorbed in comforting the caller.

"Alright, I understand. I'll be right there."

Only as he reached the door did he seem to remember me. He came back to explain.

"Jennifer, there's something urgent at work. I'll handle it and come back later."

Without batting an eye, Jason dropped a kiss on my forehead, his lie smooth and practiced.

The moment the door shut, I stumbled into the bathroom, scrubbing at my forehead like a madwoman.

All I felt was bone-deep disgust.

I rubbed until my skin turned red, and when I finally looked up at the wretched figure in the mirror, the dam broke.

Tears spilled uncontrollably. I crumpled, sobbing in despair.

Jason and I were campus sweethearts.

Back in junior year, we met through a competition. He claimed it was love at first sight, and from then on, he pursued me relentlessly.

At the beginning, I was not optimistic.

My parents were divorced, and custody went to my mother. But she quickly remarried, leaving me in the care of my grandparents.

I witnessed my parents' marriage collapse with my own eyes, and the fear of love was etched deep into my bones.

It was Jason who told me, again and again, that he would give me a home.

It was Jason who let me ask for reassurance a thousand times, who never tired of affirming his love.

It was Jason who slowly broke down the walls I built.

He was attentive, gentle, and always considerate of my feelings.

Everyone said he was the perfect boyfriend, and I once believed that, too.

But as days turned into years, our friends and colleagues settled down one after another, yet Jason and I never took things further.

Before my grandfather passed away, he told me his biggest regret was not being able to see me married.

And this year, my grandmother's health declined. She was already admitted to the hospital several times this year.

Jason never knew the kind of resolve it took for a timid, awkward, love-starved girl like me to propose to him repeatedly before a crowd.

Each time, he would say he wasn't ready, and I believed him.

I thought, even if he really had a fear of marriage, it did not matter. We were together so long. I could wait a little longer.

What I never expected was that, in the end, I would be waiting only to see him propose to another woman.

The woman in the mirror had eyes swollen red from crying.

I wiped away my tears, hollow as a puppet with its strings cut, and returned to my room.

I tore through drawers and closets, gathering every gift he gave me over the years.

There were hand-sewn plush bears and luxury handbags worth thousands. All together, there were more than a hundred items in total.

These things witnessed our journey from youthful beginnings to maturity. And now, they would also witness our end.

I packed everything into several large boxes and made trip after trip, dumping them into the garbage bins downstairs.

After I finished, I collapsed on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, the other side of the bed was still untouched. Jason did not come home all night.

A sharp pain twisted in my chest, but it passed quickly.

Seven years of love was not easy to let go of. But since he chose someone else, I could not keep drowning in it.

When I opened my phone, I saw a new friend request on my social media app. It was from an unmarked account.

On impulse, I thought of the assistant I saw yesterday. I clicked accept.

I tapped into the account's feed.

The latest post was a photo of two hands intertwined.

On both hands, wedding rings gleamed.

I recognized the man's hand instantly. It was Jason's.

There was a small bandage on his index finger. The injury was from when he cut himself cooking a few days ago.

I bought that bandage. It was cartoon-patterned, the kind he laughed at.

And the caption read: "When it's true love, you can't wait to walk into marriage. In half a month, I'll be Mrs. Brown."

I scrolled all the way down her feed.

She was young, fresh out of university. It was Jason's newly hired assistant.

They, too, fell in love at first sight. They knew each other for barely two months.

Two months. That was enough to take her where seven years with me never had.

I could not even describe what I felt.

Just then, Jason sent me a message.

[Baby, I'll be away on a business trip these days. Take care of yourself.]

"Baby." The word made something cold rise in me.

I suddenly recalled a joke I once saw online: [Wife, baby, and girlfriend could all be separate entities.]

I asked Jason what he thought about that.

At the time, he held me in his arms and declared solemnly.

"Any man who says that is trash. What's there to brag about? A real man has just one person. Girlfriend, baby, wife, they should all be the same woman. My dearest Jennifer, you are my girlfriend, my baby, and my wife."

How perfect his words sounded.

So why did everything change?

I did not reply to Jason. Instead, I gathered everything that belonged to me.

I called movers to pull out the sofa, the shoe cabinet, and all the other large items. I did not even leave behind the packs of tissues I bulk-bought during sales.

By the time I finished, the apartment looked noticeably empty.

I set the keys on the entryway table, dragged two large suitcases behind me, and first stopped by my small apartment before getting into a car headed for my mother's house.

It was already noon when I arrived.

My mother and stepsister were eating.

When she opened the door and saw me, her expression soured.

"You sure know how to pick your timing. Have you eaten yet?"

In truth, I did not. But I had no desire to face her scorn, so I lied and said I had.

Only then did her face soften, as though relieved I wouldn't be eating her food.

"Go sit down. Later, the Barlowe family's boy will come pick you up," she ordered, then whispered under her breath, "Such good conditions, and he just had to set his eyes on a used woman like you."

I pretended I did not hear and sat quietly on the sofa.

Not long after, there was a knock at the door.

My stepsister, who was ignoring me the whole time, suddenly sprang up and eagerly ran to answer it.

"Nathaniel, you're here!"

Nathaniel Barlowe gave her a slight nod, but showed no intention of stepping inside.

"Is Jennifer here?"

With just a simple question, my stepsister's face turned black as soot.

She snapped her head toward me and shouted sourly, "He's calling you, didn't you hear?"

When I got up to leave, she deliberately bumped into me on her way past before storming off.

I could not be bothered to argue, so I simply followed Nathaniel downstairs.

Like a gentleman, he opened the car door for me. Once we were both seated, he finally began making small talk.

"Jennifer Knox, it's been so many years since we last met."

His hand on the steering wheel was trembling slightly from nerves.

I blinked and said, "Yes, it's really been a long time."

In a way, Nathaniel and I were childhood friends.

He was the boy next door to my grandfather's house, and we grew up playing together.

It was not until high school, when I went to the city's best school and he went abroad, that our contact dwindled.

By now, it was over ten years since we last saw each other.

And yet, the strangeness between us was surprisingly little.

He drove me back to my grandfather's neighborhood, recalling story after story from our childhood days.

By dinnertime, we were still chatting happily, reluctant to stop.

Nathaniel even managed to reserve a table at a notoriously difficult-to-book restaurant.

When he went to park the car, I pushed open the restaurant's door, only to be greeted by the sight of two people I least wanted to see.

Jason, who told me he was on a business trip, and his assistant.

On his face was the gentle smile I knew so well, as he carefully cut a steak for the young woman across from him.

Her eyes sparkled, full of shyness and sweetness as she gazed at him.

If Jason and I had already broken up, I might have even thought to myself, 'What a perfect-looking pair they were. A talented man and a pretty woman, glowing with affection.'

Perhaps my stare was too intense, because Jason suddenly looked up. And across the crowd, his eyes locked directly onto mine.

In that instant, a storm of expressions crossed his face: Surprise, guilt, and finally, anger.

"Jennifer, are you following me?"