After leaving the hospital, I wrapped myself tightly in my coat and weakly made my way home.

At 10:41 p.m., Ethan finally returned.

"It's pitch black in here. How are you getting lazier with age? You didn't even bother turning on the lights," were the first words out of his mouth as he stepped through the door.

I curled up on the sofa in silence and glanced at the dishes on the table that had been left untouched for three days.

Those were the meals I had prepared before my fever, feeling sorry for Ethan working late at the office and not eating properly.

At this moment, I realized that the lonely hours I spent suffering in the hospital were the same hours Ethan spent enjoying himself with Anna. He had not even come home, let alone eaten the food.

Ethan followed my gaze and noticed the now-stale dishes. His expression turned impatient.

"Stop acting up. You know how busy I've been," he said coldly.

"It's normal to miss meals when work gets hectic. You work too, so you should understand how hard this is for me. Besides," he added with practiced ease, "you have no idea how long I had to entertain those clients today. I just wrapped it up and rushed straight home to see you."

He stretched his neck. It was as if this was his helpless excuse for rejecting my 16 calls.

I watched him with a faint smile, every frame of him with Anna at the hospital replaying in my mind.

"Is that so?" I asked, forcing a smile through the pain.

Ethan frowned, annoyed at my questioning, and quickly retorted, "Of course. I'm a workaholic. I'm doing this to build a better future for you. Work is all I know."

As though nothing had happened, he casually ordered me, "Oh, right. Pack my suitcase and stock up on snacks and fun things. I have a business trip to Bali."

I blinked. As one of the company's senior managers, I had not heard of any projects in Bali. I deliberately asked, "Do you need me to come along?"

Ethan immediately cut me off, as if afraid I would cause a scene. "No. My secretary will come along. It's an important client meeting, and I don't need you getting in the way."

He walked toward the bathroom, tossing his phone onto the table as he passed.

The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, his phone lit up. The screen displayed Anna Lane's profile picture, which was a plate of cookies.

Ironically, I had made those cookies for Ethan last Christmas as a handmade gift after he begged me to. He must have given them to Anna as a gesture, and she used them as her profile photo.

Nausea rolled through me as I read Anna's next text message.

[Mr. West, I'm so touched that you're taking me to Bali for a little getaway. Do you want me to wear the Officer Bunny outfit? Maybe it'll look even better on a mom-to-be.]

I nearly vomited in disgust.

I expressionlessly locked the phone and set it down. Ethan seemed to realize he had left his phone outside and emerged hastily to grab it.

Holding it tightly, he shot me a sharp glare.

"Why haven't you packed my things yet? Don't forget snacks and entertainment; I don't want to be bored. Oh, and pack a box of condoms. You never know what might happen outdoors. It's for my safety. You understand that, right?"

I stared coldly at Ethan's shameless face. Snacks and entertainment? Those were clearly for Anna.

As for the condoms… Was he planning some wild fling in the outdoors with her and expecting me to prepare for it?

My entire body tingled with anger, which was made worse by my lingering fever.

I stood up shakily, stumbled to the bedroom, and slammed the door shut. Ignoring Ethan's shouting, I pulled the covers over myself and tried to sleep.

Outside, Ethan smashed a glass against the floor in a fit of rage. He kicked the door and cursed, "What's wrong with you? You're twenty-seven and still throwing childish tantrums? All this just because I was too busy to answer a few phone calls?"

I squeezed my eyes shut as tears streamed down my face.

How laughable. He still thought I was angry about him ignoring my calls.

Ethan continued swearing outside for a while but eventually quieted down, probably distracted by flirtatious messages from Anna.

The next morning, he dressed sharply in a suit and had a huge smile on his face, likely still basking in the sweetness of his late-night conversation with her. He seemed to have completely forgotten about me.

I, on the other hand, had an important meeting involving a 40-million-dollar project. I could have driven myself, but my Mercedes was still missing.

Ethan had borrowed it recently, saying Anna's family had an emergency and could not find a car in time. He reassured me that Anna, as his secretary, was trustworthy.

I had agreed.

A week later, I overheard from others that Ethan had taken my Mercedes to Anna's class reunion to make an impression. Anna, trying to show off, got drunk and crashed it.

When I confronted Ethan about it, he just called me petty.

"You could afford ten Rolls-Royces if you wanted. What's a little accident with a Mercedes? Anna didn't do it on purpose," he had said casually. "Besides, didn't I send it in for repairs? I'll get it back to you soon."

I had not seen my car, even up until this moment.

As Ethan rushed to leave, I swallowed my frustration and grabbed his arm, forcing myself to speak. "Wait. I have a meeting about a forty-million-dollar project today. I overslept because I'm still sick, and I don't have my car. Can you give me a ride?"

Ethan instinctively tried to shake off my hand. I glanced at the time, worried I would mess up this 40-million deal.

I added, "We've been working together as a couple for seven years, and you've never once picked me up or dropped me off. Just this once, are you really going to say no?"

Perhaps it was out of pride that Ethan finally nodded and agreed. Turning around, he opened the backseat door for me and urged me to hurry.

The car reeked of a nauseating fragrance. I had smelled it on Anna before. Clearly, she had been in the car often.

While I was still piecing this together, Ethan suddenly veered off the usual route and started driving further away.

I anxiously checked the time. "Why are you changing routes? The company's that way."

Ethan did not even bother answering me. He clicked his tongue in irritation and kept driving the long way.

20 minutes later, we arrived at Anna's place. She stepped out looking meticulously styled and beautiful, smiling as she slid into the passenger seat.

"Mr. West, don't I look sweet today? Not only me, though, this little one in my tummy is craving something sweet, too!" she cooed, almost reaching out to wrap her arms around Ethan's neck.

Ethan cleared his throat awkwardly, which made Anna notice me sitting in the backseat. She immediately pouted in feigned grievance.

"Looks like Ms. Thompson is so lucky to have Mr. West as her personal chauffeur."

I clenched my jaw, staring at Ethan. He looked like he had no choice, as if he was the victim. He even added in agreement, "Yeah, Claire really knows how to enjoy life."

The two of them looked more like a couple than anything I had ever experienced with Ethan. As I watched their silhouettes lean subtly toward each other, I thought back to a memory of riding on the back of Ethan's bicycle.

Back then, he had promised me that one day, I would sit in the passenger seat of the most luxurious car.

Here we were. Not only was the passenger seat not mine, but the marriage he had promised me had been dragged out for seven years, and he still wanted to stall for another five.

How many more 'five years' did I have to give him? How many more 'seven years'?

My phone vibrated. It was a message from my mother.

[Claire, the wedding invitations are ready. I'll mail some over to you. Let me know if you have friends who want to come.]

[Next Wednesday, don't forget to come home.]

I swiped my finger across the screen and replied with a simple, [Okay.]

At this point, there were only four minutes left until my meeting started. Ethan had already wasted 20 minutes picking up Anna, and to satisfy her craving for sweets, he stopped again for 15 minutes to buy her eight meticulously selected cupcakes.

By the time we arrived at the company, I rushed out of the car, only to find the largest shareholder standing at the entrance. He furiously threw a thick stack of documents at me.

"Claire Thompson! If you can't handle the job, then quit! Is a forty-million-dollar deal nothing to you now?"

The partner glanced at me, scoffed, and stormed off after my 30-minute delay.

I stood frozen.

Anna, acting clueless, gasped and covered her mouth. "Wow, Ms. Thompson, you're so headstrong."

Ethan shot me a disapproving look as if none of this was his fault.

He added indifferently, "Guess someone's gotten a little too high on their pedestal. If you had better time management, would this have happened?"

With that, he led Anna inside the building.

Exhausted, I picked up the scattered contracts and returned to my office.

Later that evening, Ethan sent me a cupcake. It was one of the ones he bought for Anna this morning.

It was dragon-fruit flavored, probably because Anna did not like it and he was giving me the leftovers. He did not even know I was allergic to dragon fruit.

As Ethan feigned concern, I looked at him one last time and asked, "It's been seven years. Just once, have you ever thought about marrying me and taking responsibility?"

He visibly panicked. Trying to dodge the question, he stammered, "Didn't I say I'd give you the grandest wedding once I earned enough money? I've turned you down all these years for your own good."

"Proposals are something we men should do," he added, his voice shaky as he avoided my gaze.

I stared at him and silently ended our seven-year relationship in my heart.

I got up, packed my things, and ignored Ethan's rising nervousness.

At home, I began preparing to leave for my hometown.

Just as I zipped my suitcase, Ethan came back. Seeing my luggage, he rushed over with his face twisted in anger.

"What the hell are you doing now?" he snapped. "Is this about marriage again? You're leaving just because I won't marry you? Don't you understand my difficulties?"

He yanked off his suit jacket and threw it onto a chair to show how furious he was. However, his strength was off, and a stack of explicit photos of him and Anna tumbled out of the pocket.

I looked at the pictures with a calm expression. Ethan, thinking I was jealous, scrambled to pick them up and muttered nervously, "She's under a lot of pressure as my secretary. I was just helping her relax so she could work better."

What a joke.

I thought back to all those years ago when I dropped out of school, gave up on grad school, and hid the truth from my family to help him start his business.

From selling products on the street to building connections and securing resources, I had pushed him step by step to where he got to.

Alas, I had never once heard a word of understanding or gratitude from him.

Tears pricked my eyes, and Ethan, feeling guilty, reached out to comfort me. I shoved his hand away in disgust.

Sensing how serious I was this time, he reluctantly caved. "Fine. Next Wednesday, I'll go take wedding photos with you! But just the photos, okay? I'll plan the actual wedding carefully and marry you as soon as I earn enough money. That's fair, right?"

I paused at the door, curled my lips into a smile, and replied softly, "Okay."

On Wednesday, I packed my bags early.

I threw away everything tied to Ethan West and placed the wedding invitation, one addressed to me and a stranger, on the most visible part of the table.

Next to it, I laid out the contract I found showing he had been financially supporting Anna.

Then I turned off my phone, left everything behind, and boarded a plane back home without looking back.

Ethan could not reach me.

Enraged, he barged into the apartment only to find the invitation and the contract laid out for him.

He froze. His legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the floor, completely defeated.