On Valentine’s Day, I prepared a gift and went to my girlfriend’s office to wait for her, only to see her walking out of the building with another man, chatting and laughing. They got into the same car, and she naturally took the passenger seat.

I quietly followed and called her number.

“Are you off work?” I asked, pretending to be calm.

“Working late, I’ll be home later.”

The busy tone that followed made my heart sink into a dark abyss.

Half an hour later, she and the man walked side by side into a romantic-themed restaurant.

She was seated by the window; I took a few photos and waited in silence.

With the photos in hand, I wanted to hear her explanation.

...

At 10 p.m., she and Ryan Foster walked out of the restaurant and got into the same car again.

I followed, conflicted. If they went to a hotel next, what would I do?

Catch them in bed?

But as just a boyfriend, would catching them like that even matter?

I trailed them as their car stopped outside the apartment complex where she and I rented a place together.

The two got out. Ryan reached to fix her hair, and when he seemed about to take things further, she stepped back slightly.

Under the streetlamp, from my not-so-distant vantage point, I could see she wasn’t resisting—if anything, it was calculated coyness.

She was smiling as she spoke, radiating the same flirtatious charm she’d once used to reel me in when we first met. Only now, it made me sick.

I watched Ryan blow her a kiss, and she waved with a bright smile before walking into the complex.

Slamming my foot on the gas, I drove the car I’d planned to surprise her with straight into the complex. The car drew Ryan’s attention—and hers.

It was the kind of car that turned heads, something anyone would envy.

I got home ahead of her and waited in silence.

When the door opened, I stared at Emily Carter. “Go shower; the water’s ready.”

She gave me a sidelong glance. “I’m tired. I’ll just sleep. You should too.”

Gone was the coquettish smile she’d given Ryan. Facing me, she was all impatience.

“Had your fill outside?”

“Grabbed a quick bite after working late.”

“I meant in that other way,” I said, my tone turning cold.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emily glared. “I work hard all day, and you suspect me?”

I silently unlocked my phone, found the photos, and set it on the coffee table.

She glanced at the screen, her expression turning even colder. “You followed me? Are you even a man?”

“You’re already suspicious of me before we’re even married. Maybe we should just break up.”

She turned and went into the bedroom.

Bang—the door slammed shut. She didn’t even bother to explain.

A knot of anger and resentment swelled in my chest. I pushed the door open. “You’re not going to explain?”

“Explain what—having dinner? You’re making a fuss over nothing. You followed me, so you know I didn’t do anything.”

True, she hadn’t crossed the final line, but what she had done left a bitter weight in my chest.

“That man you had dinner with—that was Ryan Foster, right?”

“Yeah, it was him.”

“On February 14th, he sent you flowers and you accepted them. You told me then it was just your boss showing concern for a subordinate. I made it clear I wasn’t okay with you accepting flowers from another man, and you promised it wouldn’t happen again.

“Three months ago, you stayed out all night, saying Ryan’s kid had a fever and, since he’s divorced, he needed a woman’s help. You said it was just sympathy and promised to let me know next time.”

“And now? You’ve lied to me about Ryan Foster again. That’s just the part I know about—how many other things have you kept from me? Like all those business trips you’ve been taking for the past six months.”

“Think whatever you want. My conscience is clear,” Emily Carter replied coldly.

“Is it really about what I think? Put yourself in my shoes—would you be okay with it?”

“I’m tired.” Emily closed her eyes, clearly done with the conversation.

“I’m a man; I know exactly what Ryan Foster’s intentions are. I don’t want you ending up in situations like this again.”

“You have a filthy mind. Not everyone is like you,” Emily shot back, sitting up and glaring at me. “If it weren’t for Ryan, would I have been promoted this fast at the company? We just had dinner, and you won’t let it go—don’t you get bored of this?”

“If it weren’t for your lack of ability, would I need to work this hard at the company?” Her voice grew sharper. “Do you think I enjoy lowering myself in front of others?”

“You’re not capable, and on top of that, your parents didn’t help get me a job—everything I have, I’ve earned on my own. Do you know how exhausted I am?”

“And you, as a man, earn less than I do—doesn’t that embarrass you?”

“I just want to get a good night’s sleep right now. Stop bothering me.”

I was about to speak when her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, hung up, and walked out with the phone in hand.

“Ryan Foster calling?” I asked.

“Spam call,” Emily tossed back before stepping into the bathroom.

I stayed in the living room in silence. Ten minutes later, she came out. Her face looked much softer than when she was talking to me, but when she noticed I was watching her, she shot me a glare and hurried into the bedroom.

I didn’t follow. Instead, my thoughts drifted back over the years.

I was an orphan. Never went to school.

I met Emily after she graduated high school and was working part-time. Her family was in poor shape—her mother was sick, her father disabled, and they couldn’t afford to send her to college.

After a month of knowing her, I’d fallen for her and worked up the courage to ask her out. We got together, and I paid for her tuition and living expenses. I’d already been working for years and had some savings; I even helped pay for her mother’s medical treatment.

Those early days were sweet. She was gentle and considerate, and my coworkers envied me, saying I was lucky to have a college girl for a girlfriend and that our future kids would have a head start in life.

I thought so too, so I cherished our relationship.

We agreed long ago to marry after she graduated. But when she started her senior-year internship, things changed.

After joining the company, she saw the glamor of the corporate world. She grew increasingly impatient with me.

By the time she graduated, she nitpicked everything about me. It’s only been a year since, but I can’t even remember what it feels like to hold her anymore.

She came from a small rural town where everyone knew me as the dependable, kindhearted guy willing to support her.

I knew she didn’t break up with me partly because of that—she feared people would call her ungrateful.

But I also knew her heart was long gone. Ryan was older than me, but he had money. Even divorced, he could offer her a lifestyle far beyond mine.

Breaking up was only a matter of time; I just couldn’t accept it yet.

Many times, I wondered if I was just being paranoid. After all, I hadn’t caught her in anything concrete. I’d never worked in a big company, so maybe she truly had no choice but to entertain clients.

Some of my anger faded, and I decided to try to salvage the relationship.

I didn’t sleep all night. At exactly six in the morning, someone knocked on my door.

I got up to open the door, and there stood Ryan Foster.

“What are you doing here?”

Ryan ignored me and called into the apartment, “Emily, are you awake?”

I went to shut the door, but he stepped forward, blocking the doorway. “I’m here to see Emily, not you.”

“What are you doing here?” Emily Carter came out in her pajamas.

Ryan brought his hands from behind his back, revealing a gift. “I meant to give this to you yesterday, but we were having such a good time at dinner that I forgot. Remember last time I tore your stockings? This is the same kind—you’ll love them.”

Tore her stockings?

Emily had never once worn stockings in front of me, yet another man had torn them—and now he was giving her a new pair right in front of me.

I noticed a faint blush on her face, her expression almost shy.

“Have you no shame? Being a homewrecker this openly?” My temper finally boiled over. Last night, I’d been convincing myself to try to salvage this relationship, but they’d already crossed this line.

“Homewrecker?” Ryan looked at me. “Get this straight—when it comes to love, the one who’s not loved is the real outsider. Emily, if you won’t tell him, I will.”

He locked eyes with me and said, “A toad like you could never deserve Emily.”

I’d been holding it in for so long, but now I couldn’t anymore. My blood surged, and I slammed a fist into Ryan’s face, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

Smack—

Emily’s slap landed on my face right after my punch. She glared at me. “What the hell are you doing?”

She struck me to protect this man. The fire in my chest roared higher. “I’ll kill you both!”

Shouting curses, I lunged at Ryan, eyes burning red. I really wanted to end him.

We grappled, and Emily jumped in, holding me back.

Ryan was tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly kept in shape. With Emily helping him, the two-on-one left me at a disadvantage.

Neighbors, hearing the commotion, came out to break it up.

I’d always gotten along well with them, lending a hand whenever they needed it.

“Emily, why are you helping an outsider beat Jason?”

“Yeah, what’s going on here?”

“Who are you?” someone demanded of Ryan.

“He hit me first,” Emily said coldly, shooting me a glare before rushing to check on Ryan.

Blood trickled from his nose, and his lip was split. Emily fussed over him. “Does it hurt?”

My own injuries were worse, but she didn’t spare me a glance. Her eyes were only for him.

Ryan gave me a taunting look. “Just a scratch—no big deal.”

The neighbors were starting to piece things together; one of them quietly asked me what had happened. I didn’t answer, my face dark.

“Apologize to Ryan, or we’ll call the cops,” Emily said, dabbing at his blood with care before turning a cold gaze on me.

“You want me to apologize to him?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “Apologize to Ryan.”

“Oh no…” Ryan suddenly exclaimed. “Emily, I’m sorry—I broke the watch you gave me.”

Only then did I notice the cracked watch on his wrist. I didn’t know the brand, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Emily had given it to him.

All these years, she’d never bought me a single thing. Back when she was in school, she’d said that once she started working, she’d buy me a watch. I thought she’d just forgotten. Turns out, it wasn’t that—she’d never planned to.

“It’s fine, I’ll buy you another one,” Emily said soothingly.

“This Rolex Submariner isn’t cheap—it’s about fifteen grand,” Ryan added, giving me another provocative look.