After arguing fruitlessly with the merchant, I had no choice but to take the souvenirs home and pack them myself. The task stretched late into the night, and by the time I looked up, the clock was inching toward the early hours of the morning.

Daniel hadn’t returned yet.

He’d gone to attend an event in another city, and his flight was supposed to land at 11 PM. Just as I picked up my phone to message him, I heard the sound of the door unlocking.

He stepped in, arms full of things, and greeted me the way he always did—with a soft kiss on the cheek. Among the items he carried were gifts and a bouquet of fresh flowers.

“Lily,” he said, his voice warm yet somber. “Thank you for staying with me all these years.”

I knew what he meant.

When he graduated, Daniel had a bold dream of starting his own business. No one believed in him, not even his family. No one, except me. I went against my parents’ wishes, took the dowry they had carefully prepared, and sold every shop and house I owned to fund his dream. It wasn’t easy, but I believed in him wholeheartedly.

Time proved me right. Daniel’s company is now a leader in the industry. He is young, successful, and admired—a man who has achieved everything he once set out to accomplish.

And now, he wanted to tie up the loose ends of his past.

When he put the gifts down and turned to me, his expression was serious. “Lily, I want to spend a month trying to get Abigail back,” he said, his tone calm but unwavering.

I wasn’t surprised.

“I don’t want to leave any regrets,” he continued. “You wouldn’t want me to still think about another person after we’re married, would you? I promise that if I don’t succeed, I’ll let her go completely. I’ll guard you and spend the rest of my life with you.”

His eyes were red, his voice thick with emotion. It was the kind of vulnerability that should have moved me, should have made me feel closer to him.

Instead, all I felt was an ache in my chest.

I couldn’t say no.

Maybe it was because I remembered how, when we first started dating, he had told me plainly that Abigail still lived in his heart. If you mind, you shouldn’t be with me, he had said.

I didn’t mind then. I thought I could wait, that time and love would heal the wounds she left behind.

But now, as I looked at him standing before me, asking for permission to chase her once more, I realized how naive I had been.

“Okay,” I said quietly, my voice steady despite the storm inside. “Go.”

I looked at Daniel, my face serious as I replied, “After all, life should not leave regrets, right?”

He didn’t even pause to confirm if I truly meant it. Instead, he smiled, thanked me for understanding him—just as I always had—and left, happily packing his things and driving away into the night.

I stood amidst the wedding souvenirs scattered across the floor. The elegant packaging, the neatly placed gifts—every detail carefully arranged by my hands just hours ago. A wave of irony washed over me.

It’s a pity they’ll never be sent out.

Picking up the bouquet Daniel had brought earlier, I noticed a small card tucked inside. I hesitated, then flipped it over.

Abigail, long time no see. I hope you’re still doing well.

The name hit me like a cold gust of wind.

So, he had bought two bouquets—one for me and one for her. In his rush, he must have taken the wrong one.

I didn’t mind. But I couldn’t help but wonder: would he feel a twinge of awkwardness when he handed her my flowers and realized his mistake?

Without another thought, I tossed the bouquet into the trash.

Later, I noticed a message from my mother.

The flight is booked for a week from now. You’ve been in Washington for so many years—use this time to say goodbye.

I decided to do just that.

While Daniel was away, I roamed the city I had called home for so long. I had dinner with friends, revisited old haunts, and slowly said my farewells to Washington.

Daniel’s calls came like clockwork every day.

“Lily, what are you up to? I miss you.”

“Nothing much,” I replied, my voice steady. “Just packing up at home.”

I told him the truth.

He didn’t ask any more questions, but he kept calling to share where he was and what he was doing.

Daniel mentioned how nervous he was about meeting Abigail after all these years.

It struck me as odd—this habit of ours. Over the years, we have grown accustomed to sharing everything. Whenever he traveled for work, it was natural for us to say we missed each other and chat about the day’s events.

Now, even as he prepared to see Abigail, he still called me to report.

Habit, I realized, is a particularly terrible thing.

I remained silent for a while.

“Are you angry? Why aren’t you saying anything?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“No,” I said softly, the words bitter on my tongue. “I wish you the best.”

Even I wasn’t sure how I managed to say it.

Daniel was silent for a moment too. Then, after what felt like forever, he said quietly, “I’ll come back as soon as possible. No matter what the result is, I love you.”

I wanted to believe him—I might have even believed him for a fleeting second. But it didn’t matter anymore.

Because this time, I was ready to let go.

Three days later, Daniel returned.

I hadn’t expected him to come back so soon. But what shocked me more was that standing next to him was Abigail.

I still remember the first time I met Abigail. Back then, I had felt a pang of envy.

She was the kind of girl who wasn’t afraid to break the rules—a little wild, yet undeniably magnetic. Stunningly beautiful, she exuded confidence and flair.

The air between us was tense, laden with unspoken history.

The kind of natural charisma Abigail possessed was something I could never emulate, shaped as I was by years of discipline and propriety. She had a tattoo curling elegantly along the side of her neck, her sunglasses perched atop her head, and her loose curls cascading over her shoulders.

"Lily, long time no see," she greeted me, her voice familiar but carrying an undertone of weariness.

It struck me as strange—this version of Abigail seemed so different from the confident, untouchable figure in my memories.

She asked politely if she could come in, and I, somewhat stunned by her sudden appearance, stepped aside to let her enter.

As she walked in, Abigail accidentally bumped into a decorative bear adorned with a wedding bow tie, sending it tumbling to the ground. She crouched down, picked it up, and handed it back to me with a faint smile.

"I forgot to congratulate you," she said. "I wish you and Daniel a happy wedding."

Her words were cordial, yet they carried a weight I couldn’t quite decipher.

I simply nodded in response, unsure of what else to say.

Abigail wandered around the living room, her gaze sweeping over the sparse decor. The house was unnervingly empty—most of my belongings had already been shipped back to my parents' home. All that remained were items belonging to Daniel or shared mementos I couldn’t bear to sort through.

Daniel, too, noticed the change.

"Lily," he asked, puzzled, "why does the house feel so empty?"

"I’ve been organizing and clearing out some things," I said casually, brushing off his concern with a vague excuse.

Abigail sat down and removed her sunglasses, revealing bruised eye sockets and faint scars etched across her face.

At that moment, I understood why she seemed so different. The unshakable confidence she once had was now dulled, replaced by visible signs of hardship.

"As you can see," Abigail began, her voice soft but steady, "I'm not doing well."

She explained that her years abroad had not unfolded as she had imagined. The man she referred to as her husband had never intended to marry her. For him, she had merely been a fleeting distraction.

She had been trapped abroad, battling severe depression, unable to return. It wasn't until she reached out to Daniel that things began to change.

"Thanks to Daniel’s help over the years, I never lost myself there," she said quietly.

When Daniel heard this, his nerves were palpable. I could tell what was making him anxious. It wasn't just that they hadn't spoken recently—it was that they'd been in contact all along, over the years.

"Daniel spends a month with me every year, at the end of the year. Without him, I wouldn't have made it through," she added.

It all suddenly made sense—Daniel had always told me he was going on a business trip for a month at the end of each year. But it wasn’t a business trip. He had been going to see Abigail.

She continued, "When Daniel started his business, I heard you sold your dowry to give him the startup capital."

"I was in trouble at the time too," she explained, her voice tinged with a hint of regret. "So, Daniel sent me $100,000 to help."

That explained it—the missing $100,000 from his company’s accounts. It was never just a financial discrepancy. It was a hidden part of Daniel’s life with Abigail that I had never known.

In just a few words, I realized the extent of what Daniel had done for Abigail.

"This time I came back to Washington, it's all thanks to Daniel."

"Lily, I have no hostility towards you." She smiled and me and continued, "Let's try to get along well in the future, okay?"

It sounded like a request, but it felt more like a subtle form of moral pressure. After all, Abigail had been hurt so much, and all she wanted was for us to get along. If I refused, it would seem callous.

But I wasn't sure what she meant by "getting along well in the future." If this had been earlier, I probably would have reacted with anger. No one wants someone else intruding on their relationship. But now, I just found it laughable—how could I take their requests seriously?

"Fine, get along well," I said, knowing it didn’t matter much. I was leaving soon anyway, so why bother making a big deal out of it?

Abigail stayed in the master bedroom, while Daniel and I slept in the second bedroom next to it. Daniel explained that Abigail's depression was severe and that she cried for hours every night. The master bedroom was well soundproofed, so she wouldn’t disturb me.

I agreed to that arrangement.

Before going to sleep, Daniel held me like he always did. His chest pressed against my back, his breath warm and soft against my neck, sending a light, tickling sensation down my spine.

The words he spoke cut through me like a knife.

"Lily, I think Abigail is different now. She’s changed, and I can't help but feel she’s... dirty."

"You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you? But I just can’t let go of her."

"I feel sorry for both you and her."

"But you have to believe me when I say I will only marry you, I love you."

I couldn’t tell if Daniel had been drinking too much with Abigail before going to bed, but he talked to me all night. He shared everything—things he should’ve kept to himself and things that hurt more than I could handle.

Just when I felt myself drifting off to sleep, I noticed an emptiness beside me. Daniel was gone.

When I woke up the next morning, I saw him walking out of the master bedroom. He explained that Abigail needed to take her medication regularly, so he had gone in to remind her. I didn’t press him, trying to be understanding.

At breakfast, Abigail struggled with the unfamiliar dish. Daniel quickly ran downstairs to the convenience store to buy a steak. Normally, he didn’t cook, but this time, he fried it himself and brought it to her.

Abigail smiled at me teasingly.

"Daniel is so good at taking care of people. You must be so happy all these years, right?"

I just smiled and didn’t reply.

We had lived together for so long, and while Daniel couldn’t stand the kitchen fumes, I was the one who always cooked.

I didn’t even know that Daniel could fry steak. He did it so skillfully, and the presentation was beautiful.

"He didn’t know how to cook at first," Abigail said, as if boasting. "But every year when he came to see me, he’d fry a steak for me, and eventually, he learned. You know, Daniel is really good at cooking, right?"

Her tone felt almost like she was claiming him, as if I hadn’t been the one by his side all these years.

Daniel glanced at me, looking uncomfortable. "I’m sorry, Lily. I’ve been too busy lately, but I’ll definitely cook for you more in the future."

I just laughed it off and didn’t say much.

After breakfast, Daniel quickly took Abigail to the hospital for a checkup. As I dragged my suitcase out of the room, he looked at me, puzzled.

"Are you going on a business trip? I didn’t hear you mention it."

"Yes, I’m going on a business trip," I replied.

Daniel, in a rush, didn’t ask any more questions and hurried out.

Maybe Daniel truly cared too much about Abigail. Otherwise, the Daniel I knew—attentive, meticulous—would have noticed that all my documents were gone, that traces of me had almost been erased from the house.

"Are you leaving now?" he asked, his voice breaking through the silence.

There were still three hours until my flight took off, and somehow, I found myself standing at the crossroads of what had been my life with him. I had spent so many sleepless nights wondering what life would be like without Daniel. What would it feel like to walk away?

I hadn’t expected it to happen like this—on such an ordinary morning, or so plainly.

"Yes, I'm leaving now," I said, my voice quiet but resolute.

Daniel was helping Abigail, who had just complained of feeling unwell. He waited by the door, his hand on her arm. When he saw me struggling with the suitcase, he started to step forward to help, but paused, his gaze shifting to Abigail, making it impossible for him to take that step.

"I'll take you," Daniel offered.

"No, it's not on the way to the hospital," I replied. "I can just take a taxi."

Daniel let out a breath of relief, visibly grateful. He turned to help Abigail downstairs, but before he left, I called after him softly, "Daniel, goodbye."

He walked away quickly, likely not hearing me at all.

At the airport, I received the physical examination report for Abigail, sent by Daniel. He told me she was in a terrible condition—not just suffering from severe depression, but also battling a serious infectious disease. Daniel couldn’t accept her like this.

He was going to give up.

[Lily, our wedding will be held as scheduled. Have you booked your parents' tickets to come over?]

I took a screenshot of my flight to Chicago and sent it to him.

[I've been waiting for you for so many years. I'm tired of waiting.]

[Daniel, let's break up.]