Love Can Have Regrets, But Marriage Must Not Have Hidden Dangers

Ethan Hunter broke up with me for the 49th time just six days after my appendectomy.

The reason? He smoked a cigarette in a video, and I showed my disapproval.

After that, he hung up on my video call and vanished for three whole days.

I've grown accustomed to this pattern; it always seems to start with me being the one to apologize first.

Even with my wound still healing, I took a ten-hour train ride, carrying a cake and flowers to surprise him.

Yet, he abandoned me to help a female colleague fix her plumbing and didn't return home all night.

"I just want to indulge a little before we get married. If you can accept that, we'll go ahead with the engagement party in a month," he said.

I smiled but didn't respond; truthfully, I was already tired of it all.

Crying into a pillow now is different from crying over a child later; I can tell the difference.

So, I called off the wedding, and Ethan lost his mind over it.

"I thought you already quit..." Before I could finish my sentence, Ethan abruptly hung up the phone.

Lying in my hospital bed, I pressed my lips together and let out a sigh.

Just as I was about to call him back, the nurse informed me that my discharge paperwork was ready.

Once home, I pulled out my phone, and as expected, it was turned off.

All my other social media accounts had been blocked too.

This was Ethan's usual tactic; whenever he was upset, he would just disappear.

I would patiently soothe his temper, often begging him to come back.

He'd act like a proud peacock, lifting his chin and saying, "Now you realize you can't live without me, huh? Let's see if you dare to do this again."

Then he'd switch to being a clingy puppy, showering me with care and attention.

This had become our routine.

Since I had just been discharged and wasn't fully recovered, and Ethan was away on a year-long business trip, I didn't rush things.

After three days of resting at home, I finally bought a ticket to his city.

With a cake and flowers in hand, I spent eleven hours traveling to his workplace.

Arriving just in time for the end of the workday, I began to think about where we could celebrate our five-year anniversary.

Suddenly, I spotted Ethan with a glamorous woman by his side.

As I approached to say hello, I overheard her say, "Are we going to your place or mine?"

The cake box fell from my hands with a loud thud, shattering the fondant cake I had carefully carried all this way.

Ethan turned around and didn't seem surprised to see me; it was almost as if he expected it. "Why did it take you so long? It's been three days," he remarked.

"Ethan, I just got out of the hospital..." I began, but he cut me off impatiently.

"This is my colleague Sophie. We live in the same building, so we came back together." He then turned to Sophie with a softer tone. "This is my girlfriend; her name is... never mind, it's not important. Let's go."

I tightened my grip on the flowers and forced a polite smile while nodding.

Sophie looked me up and down with a flirtatious grin, but her eyes held an unmistakable disdain that felt oddly familiar.

Before I could ask anything, they had already turned away and started walking ahead of me.

I silently followed them, watching as they laughed together.

Occasionally, Sophie would lightly punch his shoulder; they looked more like a couple than colleagues.

When we reached Ethan's apartment, I discovered that not only did they live in the same building—they were neighbors just a wall apart.