Today is the sixth time my girlfriend, Shirley Lake, is supposed to meet my parents.

My parents and I wait at the restaurant for four whole hours. I call her over and over again, but she never picks up. Just as I'm about to try one last time, I see Shirley's childhood sweetheart, Joshua Solomon, post a picture on his Instagram, with the location tagged at a suburban hotel.

The picture shows a woman's pale back, one shoulder bare, with a striking red spider lily tattoo visible on her skin. Underneath the picture was the caption, "We'll make it from 18 to 80."

A mutual friend comments, "First-love couples are the sweetest!"

I silently hit the like button, then comment, "Make sure to get buried together when you die. And don't come back to haunt anyone else."

Just as my food arrived, my girlfriend, Shirley Lake, called me. I declined the call without hesitation.

A second later, she texted, "Stop being jealous for no reason, okay? Joshua and I grew up together. What's wrong with that? You have a dirty mind, so you think everything is dirty!

"Josh had something come up here, so I came to help him. It suddenly started pouring. He's not in good health, and I was afraid something might happen, so we got a room to wait out the rain."

…

Messages like that kept coming one after another. But the only thing she avoided mentioning was that she had promised to have dinner with my parents that day. I stopped reading her messages. Mostly, I just felt bad for my mom and dad.

I looked up at them, my stomach twisting with guilt. They were getting older, and they had flown in just to meet my girlfriend. But Shirley didn't show up—again.

After so many broken promises, my parents were already unhappy with her. But because I loved her, they kept trying to be patient.

"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry. I've wasted your time again."

Mom looked at me with concern, while Dad said indifferently, "I won't comment on your issues. You young people make your own decisions. We only came to see you."

My eyes stung immediately.

In our five years together, Shirley had never once gone back with me to visit my parents. She was a well-known attorney, always claiming that her time was expensive and billable by the minute.

But one call from Joshua Solomon, and she would travel halfway across the city to go see him. She'd even find time to travel with him.

Whether she loved me or not was painfully clear. I'd just been lying to myself all this time.

Sometimes, a moment was all it took to let go.

…

After dropping my parents at their hotel, I got home around 11:00 pm.

Shirley was sitting on the couch, sulking. The moment I walked in, she gave me an earful. "It's already so late! Where were you out messing around? Why didn't you answer my calls or reply to my messages?"

I patiently listened to her rant, then cut in, "Do you remember what you were supposed to do today?"

"I went to work. What else? Or are you trying to…" She stopped mid-sentence, then spoke again, "I'm sorry. Have your parents already left? Tomorrow. I swear, I won't forget tomorrow!"

"That won't be necessary," I replied flatly. Then, I went straight to the bedroom.

After a shower, I turned off the lights and lay down to sleep. A moment later, Shirley came in. She had just showered too and was wearing a black nightdress. Just like always, she slid into bed beside me.

"Are you still mad at me?"

I turned my back to her, saying nothing.

She wrapped an arm around my waist and whispered by my ear softly, "Baby, I'm sorry. I was wrong. Josh got into a car accident. He called me, and I panicked and forgot."

When I still didn't speak, she turned me forcefully, making me face her. Under the moonlight, I saw the red spider lily tattoo on her shoulder. I instantly thought of Joshua's Instagram post, and a wave of nausea washed over me.

"What's wrong? Joshua didn't satisfy you enough?"

Shirley shot up, fury blazing in her eyes. "Chester Gibson! Are you done? I already explained everything and apologized. What more do you want from me?"

"I was even planning to take tomorrow off so I could properly spend time with your parents," Shirley said as if she was doing me a favor.

I looked at her calmly. "Shirley, don't force yourself. Let's break up."

I threw out that sentence, grabbed a pillow, and left the bedroom for the guest room.

She was stunned for a few seconds, then slammed the door hard behind me to show how angry she was.

…

The next day, just as I was about to ask for a day off to take my parents around the city, Mom texted, "Dad and I are heading back first. Focus on work, and come home when you can."

I froze, then quickly called her. "Mom, why are you leaving so soon?"

Mom replied gently, "Your dad's in a hurry to get back and go fishing with your uncle. Alright, we're about to board. Talk later."

Listening to her hang up, I was filled with shame toward my parents. The city I was working in was barely an hour away by plane from home. But these past few years, I'd revolved my life around Shirley and hardly went back to visit Mom and Dad.

Suddenly, an idea struck me. I quickly got up and went to find my manager, Peter Rothwell.

"Mr. Rothwell, I want to transfer to the Guidon branch."

Peter looked surprised by my sudden initiative. "What's with the sudden change of heart? I've been saying you should go, but you kept refusing. If you go, the project manager position is basically yours."

I scratched my head. "I've figured it out, Mr. Rothwell. There's nothing more important than making money."

Peter grinned, satisfied, and pulled out a form for me to sign.

Right after I left his office, my phone rang. It was Shirley. As soon as I answered, she yelled at me furiously, "Chester, why didn't you wake me up or make me breakfast? I have important clients to meet today!"

Listening to her self-righteous words, I actually laughed. "Shirley, I'm not your maid. It's not my job to do everything you say."

"Chester, you're getting cocky…"

I hung up straight away, not wanting to hear any more.

For five years, I had treated Shirley like a princess. I handled all the cooking and cleaning at home. I even laid out fresh clothes for her showers every night. She had taken all my effort for granted. And if I ever stopped, it was my fault.

Thinking of that, I felt incredibly grateful that I had finally woken up.

…

After I decided to let go of Shirley, my work efficiency soared. Tasks that used to take me more than a day could now be done in half.

When I left the office, I noticed it was raining outside. Right then, Shirley called again. "You're off work, right? I didn't drive today. Go home, get the car, and come pick me and Josh up."

I couldn't believe the entitlement in her tone and the fact that she even mentioned Joshua. How pathetic did she think I was to go home in the rain, grab the car, and go back out just to be their chauffeur?

"I'm busy," I answered before hanging up, then took a cab home.

Once I got back, I ordered something I hadn't had in a long time—spicy buffalo wings.

I loved spicy buffalo wings, but Shirley thought they were "gross" and "beneath her status". She refused to eat it and also forbade me from eating it.

Tell me why I'd seen her on Joshua's Instagram story the other day, wearing a black suit, sitting on a street curb, and chowing down spicy buffalo wings with him?

So, her tastes changed depending on the person. I just wasn't the one she made exceptions for.

I was halfway through enjoying my wings and drinking a cold beer when Shirley came home with Joshua. They walked in soaking wet and miserable, a stark contrast to the relaxed and comfortable me.

Shirly exploded, "Chester, this is what you were busy with? Come on! It's not like I missed meeting your parents on purpose. There'll be plenty of chances in the future. Why are you being so petty? You…"

I didn't want to argue with Shirley at first, but her words were getting more and more out of line. I couldn't take it anymore. I shot up from my seat and smashed the beer bottle in my hand on the floor.

"Shirley, that's enough! Don't go too far."

Glass shards scattered and hit Joshua, which only made Shirley angrier. She reached out and shoved me to the ground.

I winced as blood instantly filled my palm. I couldn't even tell how many cuts I had.

Seeing me injured, Shirley panicked a little and came over to check on me. The moment she leaned in, I caught a strong scent. It was the cologne Joshua always wore.

I could practically picture her hands wandering all over Joshua's body, with that gentle smile on her face.

As I shoved Shirley away in disgust, my gaze landed on a red spot on her neck. She noticed me staring and quickly covered it with her hand. "There are a lot of mosquitoes in my office lately. You know how sensitive my skin is."

Joshua shot me a smug look and chimed in, "Yeah. Shirley has super delicate skin."

In this relationship, Joshua got Shirley's real love. And all I got was lie after lie.

"Alright. Stop fussing about stupid little things. I'll take you to the hospital." Shirley looked at my hand with concern, but her actions didn't match her expression at all.

She grabbed my injured hand and yanked me up from the ground. Acting like a caring girlfriend, she insisted on sending me to the hospital.

I shook her hand off and said calmly, "Forget it. If you keep dragging me like that, I'll die before we even get to the hospital."

Only then did Shirley realize she'd been pulling on my injured hand. But she still snapped back, stubborn as ever. "Can't you speak nicely? Do you have to be so passive-aggressive?"

I didn't want to waste time arguing with her. I went to put on my shoes and head to the hospital myself.

But Shirley wouldn't let it go. She insisted on taking me, dragging me all the way to the car. Joshua hurried to claim the passenger seat, shooting me a provocative look. "I get carsick, so I need to sit in front. You don't mind, right, Chester?"

I ignored him and got into the back seat.

On the way to the hospital, I glanced around the car and noticed a bunch of eyesores, like a selfie photo of them on the dashboard, basketball shoes in the back, a men's jacket…

When Shirley and I first started dating, I once left a plushie in her car. The next day, she threw it in the trash. She claimed she was a neat freak and wouldn't allow other people's things in her car.

It turned out double standards didn't apply to just her principles. It even applied to her tidiness.

…

By the time the doctor finished cleaning and bandaging my hand, it was already 2:00 am.

I walked around the waiting area of the hospital but didn't see Shirley anywhere. I didn't bother calling her. I just stood outside and ordered a ride.

It was the middle of the night and raining, so I couldn't get a car even after an hour. With no choice, I called Shirley.

Joshua picked up. "Hello," he said, before Shirley snatched the phone from him.

I heard Joshua click his tongue and say, "I'm going to take a shower. Hurry up."

It sounded like Shirley walked further away a little before asking, "What is it?"

I didn't waste time. "I'm outside the hospital. I can't get a ride. Can you come pick me up?"

Shirley paused for a second, like she just remembered she was the one who brought me to the hospital in the first place. Then, she said, "Wait for me. I'll leave in five minutes."

But 15 minutes passed. Then, 25. But she still didn't show up.

I let out a bitter laugh. I knew I shouldn't have trusted her.

I tried booking a ride again. Maybe God finally felt sorry for me, because it didn't take long for me to get one this time.

Back home, just as I sat down, Shirley walked in right behind me.

The moment she stepped inside, she started interrogating me, "Why didn't you wait for me?"