The moment she finished reading the messages, Lindsey rose from bed and slipped on her clothes.

"Honey, there's a sudden issue with the project. I need to see to it."

For ten years, she had often used this excuse to leave home in the middle of the night. Because I loved her, I never questioned it, never tried to stop her.

Now, looking back, I realized—those nights must have been for Ian.

"I'll go with you," I said.

She froze, almost imperceptibly, then gently brushed her fingers across my cheek, smiling softly. "It's so late. Don't wear yourself out. I'd feel terrible if you fell sick. Don't worry, I'll be back soon."

Without a shred of hesitation, she slammed the door behind her.

I hailed a cab and followed.

Lindsey drove recklessly, and several times, the driver nearly lost sight of her car. Outside, rain poured in torrents, and through the sheets of water I saw Ian waiting.

The instant they met, they clung to each other like lovers long separated, unable to resist the pull.

I held back the tears threatening to spill and lifted my phone. With steady hands, I pressed the shutter.

For good measure, I even recorded a twenty-second video.

In it, they kissed feverishly, unwilling to part, before finally walking hand in hand into the hotel.

Back in the car, I forced myself to be calm and dialed a number engraved into memory.

On the other end, my former doctoral advisor, Professor Ryder, answered. He was abroad now, just starting his morning.

"Professor, do you still need members for your medical research project?"

For a moment, his voice trembled. "George, you've finally decided to join me? If you're willing to come, there will always be a place for you."

After my PhD, Professor Ryder had tried hard to persuade me to join him overseas, to continue research and advance further. It was a golden opportunity, a chance to climb higher.

But Lindsey hadn't wanted a long-distance marriage. For her sake, I refused.

Deep down, though, I regretted it more than anyone could know.

Now, at last, I could begin again.

But I didn't regret my choice back then. The George of yesterday had been willing to sacrifice dreams for love. The George of today had the courage to start over.

Both decisions were mine—both true to my heart.

…

A day later, I set a meeting with Professor Ryder for one month from now.

Dragging my weary body home, I pulled out a bottle of treasured liquor and drank recklessly, glass after glass.

One more month, then everything would finally be over.

My friend, Jeremy Gordon, sent two voice messages:

Jeremy: [How did it go? That French place I recommended was good, wasn't it?]

Jeremy: [No woman could resist something like that! Lindsey must be head over heels for you.]

To everyone around us, Lindsey's love for me seemed boundless. I had once believed it myself.

Only now did I realize—love can be faked.

I glanced down at the watch on my wrist and let out a bitter laugh.

It had been Lindsey's gift to me during the hardest two years of our lives.

Back then, she was just starting her business. I poured every bit of my savings into her venture. Times were brutal—we went hungry more often than not.

To buy me that watch, she secretly worked a part-time job.

One day, she collapsed from exhaustion, and only in the hospital did I learn she had been sleeping less than four hours a night.

When I arrived, she quickly hid her scraped palms from me.

I blamed myself for not protecting her, tears streaming as I asked why she pushed herself so hard.

She wiped my tears and laughed softly. "Idiot. Of course, it was for your birthday gift. Don't get too moved, though. This comes with conditions. You'll have to marry me."

Later, her business flourished. We moved into a bigger house.

Yet, I never took off this modest watch.

She once offered to replace it with a Rolex, but I refused without hesitation. To me, this watch was irreplaceable.

I remembered her face glowing with love as she celebrated my birthday. Now, I removed the watch and placed it on the nightstand.

Her words of the past still echoed in my ears.

But my wife was no longer the same.

And I no longer wished to keep this watch.

In the early hours of the morning, Lindsey called.

"Honey, I still haven't resolved the project issues. I probably won't make it home tonight. Don't wait for me. Get a good rest."

Before I could respond, she hung up.

The alcohol had dulled my senses, and I drifted into sleep right there on the carpet.

In my dream, I returned to the day we first met.

It was the last day of orientation. Urged on by her roommates, Lindsey ran up to me, stammering as she blurted, "You look like my boyfriend."

Such a bold, straightforward line.

Because of it, my roommates dubbed me the "pioneer of romance."

After that, she kept finding excuses to meet me.

Though we weren't in the same department, she always managed to "bump into me" everywhere.

At the start of the semester, my name had already appeared on the campus confession page. Plenty of girls pursued me, and at first, I felt nothing for Lindsey.

But little by little, her warmth—like the sun itself—melted my indifference.

Together, we walked hand in hand from undergrad all the way to grad school.

After I completed my PhD, one evening she pulled out a pair of rings and asked if I would marry her. I dropped to one knee and produced the ring I had secretly prepared long ago.

She said yes without a moment's hesitation.

Throwing herself into my arms, eyes shimmering with tears, she whispered, "George, I'll love you forever. Let's never be apart, okay?"

And now, she was the one who pushed me away.

Her lies had become the sword that split us apart.

…

The next morning, a colleague's call woke me. The pillow beneath me was soaked with tears.

Lindsey hadn't returned all night.

I swore to myself this would be the last time I ever cried for her.

After a quick wash, I drove to the hospital.

Even though I had already decided to leave, I couldn't abandon my responsibilities. I still had patients to see, work to hand over, and duties that couldn't simply be left undone.

That's the cruelty of adult life—it doesn't care how broken you are inside. Work still demands to be done.

While waiting at a red light, I messaged my childhood friend, now a lawyer, to ask about divorce proceedings.

There was no hysteria, no screaming, no messy entanglements.

No sudden "fated girl" appearing out of nowhere to tell me she was my true soulmate.

I had loved Lindsey deeply, but without her, I could still live brilliantly.

In my story, I am the only protagonist.

Our marriage had simply reached the end.

After submitting my resignation to the hospital director, I threw myself into work without pause.

Patient after patient filled my schedule, leaving me dizzy with exhaustion. For a while, thoughts of Lindsey faded from my mind.

But what I never expected was that before I could even confront her, she would come crashing into my world on her own.

I was holding a report, about to explain post-op care to a patient's family, when I turned a corner and froze.

It was Lindsey. Her hand was hooked tightly around Ian's arm. The two of them hurried straight into one of the wards.

And the room they entered… was the very one I was heading to.