My former roommate's cousin was the CEO of a company. She and I had been secretly dating for three years.

That day, my roommate said, "Alicia's bringing the guy she's been seeing for the past three years over to meet her parents soon."

He added casually, "Oh, by the way, when are you gonna bring your girlfriend around so I can meet her?"

I froze at his question, not sure how to respond. Without a word, I stepped out onto the balcony and called his cousin, Alicia Davids.

The call suddenly cut off. When I turned around, I saw my girlfriend standing in the doorway, arm in arm with another man.

The smile on her face disappeared the second our eyes met.

"What… what are you doing at my place?"

Alicia Davids furrowed her brow, and the question slipped out before she could stop it, drawing everyone's eyes straight to me.

As if realizing her misstep, Alicia shifted her tone, softening her words.

"Benjamin, what a surprise to see you here. Weren't you supposed to be away on a business trip?"

Under the watchful gaze of her entire family, I froze for two seconds, then forced a bitter smile, trying to play along with her performance.

A sharp sting pierced my chest. So this was it—I wasn't allowed to be seen.

I had a thousand things I wanted to say, countless questions I longed for Alicia to answer. But now, all my strength had drained away. Suddenly, everything felt meaningless.

"I just got back and haven't had a chance to inform you yet, Ms. Davids," I replied, keeping my voice measured.

Recognizing my subtle courtesy, Alicia's expression returned to its usual calm.

At the dining table, everyone laughed and chatted as if part of a perfectly staged scene. I and Alicia's boyfriend, Chuck Martin, pretended to get along—clinking glasses, exchanging small talk, swapping contacts.

That day, I didn't speak a single word to Alicia. After the meal, I went home alone.

Sitting on the sofa, my mind kept replaying the scene: Alicia, arm in arm with Chuck, appearing before her parents and relatives, introducing him as her boyfriend.

And this—this had once been what I had wished for. I had wanted her to make us public, to bring me to meet her parents. I would have told them I would care for her my whole life, that I would never let her suffer a single ounce of grievance.

Not be like a shadow, hiding in the dark like some cowardly rat.

I sat on that sofa until midnight before Alicia finally came home.

All the emotions I had been holding back should have erupted then, just like before—calm giving way to argument, to shouting, to excuses, blame, and eventually a cold shoulder. But now, I found myself without the energy. None of it mattered anymore.

After changing her shoes, perhaps noticing my silence, Alicia unusually spoke first.

"I only brought Chuck home to meet my parents because they've been pressuring me to marry. I asked him to work an extra day and pretend to be my boyfriend, just to satisfy them."

I gave a small nod to show I understood. I said nothing else.

Honestly, I felt my reaction was entirely reasonable.

But the next moment, Alicia grew angry. Her tone carried impatience, and I found myself instinctively looking up at her.

"Benjamin, I just explained everything. What's with your attitude?"

Her words sent ripples through my mind, swirling into a torrent I couldn't escape. Without thinking, I blurted out, "You asked your assistant to pretend to be your boyfriend? Then why didn't you just bring me? I'm your boyfriend!"

"Because you'd only embarrass me in front of my parents!"

With that, she hurled her bag at me and stormed into her bedroom. The door slammed so hard the frame rattled.

It was Chuck who had bought that bag for Alicia. A discounted bucket bag from an outlet—yet she carried it everywhere, even braving the rain herself just to protect it.

The limited-edition bag I had given her—my gift—was shredded and tossed into the trash after Chuck sneered, "Fake," with a single glance.

So this was what love and indifference looked like.

Ridiculous. I had refused to believe it until now.

Just as she had said earlier, in a fit of anger, the first reaction was always the truest thought.

She thought I wasn't good enough for her.

It was true. Back in college, I had met Alicia by chance. Because of her, after graduation, I didn't return to my hometown—I went straight to work at her company.

She was the CEO of Starry Group. To everyone else, I was just a freeloader, living off her connections. I was a source of shame. Chuck, on the other hand, was the perfect boyfriend: well-matched, respectable, and someone who made her shine.

Even after three years of being attentive to her every need, of bending to her every whim, I could never compete with Chuck.

Perhaps it was time to end these absurd three years.

I grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and made do in the study for the night.

Surprisingly, I slept well.

The next morning, I packed up and headed straight to the office. Just as I left the neighborhood, my phone rang.

"Mr. Campbell, your car is ready after maintenance. When would you like to pick it up?"

Last month, without my permission, Alicia had lent my car to Chuck. When he returned it last week, there were a few scratches. I had wanted to confront him, but Alicia intervened, so I let it slide and sent the car for maintenance.

Soon, I arrived at the dealership.

The manager handed me the keys with a knowing smile and pointed to a gift bag stamped with the dealership's logo.

"Hey, man, we packed everything up for you. I get it—young people—but you should be a little more careful. Next time, make sure to remove valuables before bringing your car in; our staff felt a little awkward handling them."

Confused, I opened the bag. Inside was a set of skimpy lingerie along with bell-adorned nipple covers.

Finding these in my car explained itself without a word. I had never done anything like that with Alicia in the car. The only possible conclusion: she had been with Chuck.

No questions. No anger. Not even doubt.

I took the dashcam and asked the manager, "Do you buy used cars?"

"Of course, sir!"

I didn't haggle. After quickly arranging the sale, I grabbed a taxi to the office.

As soon as I sat at my desk, I overheard a few female colleagues at the neighboring table whispering.

"Didn't Ms. Davids hook up with that assistant?"

"You think so too? I heard Chuck was personally recruited by her with a high salary!"

"Of course! I also heard they were college classmates. I saw them at a bar together last night!"

Hearing this, a sharp pain shot through my chest.

So that was the truth…

I numbly opened my laptop to get some work done, but the blank document just stared back at me, not a single word coming out.

"Benjamin!"

Alicia's voice came from behind me.

"Benjamin, you're an hour late! Go ahead and mark this as an unexcused absence for today."

Maybe not wanting to hear any excuses, she added, "I checked your clock-in. Exactly one hour late, so per company policy…"

"Okay."

I nodded, turning my eyes back to the screen, trying to figure out how to start writing this copy.

Seeing that I took it all in stride, Alicia looked a little surprised, lingering by my desk longer than expected. Her shadow fell across my workspace, blocking the light.

I looked up at her, puzzled.

"Is there something else, Ms. Davids?"

She fixed me with a cold, appraising gaze, her eyes scanning me from above.

"Benjamin, don't you have anything to explain?"

I blinked, confused, thinking for a moment.

"I was late. That's a fact. You were following company regulations, which is fair. I don't think I owe any further explanation. I don't have excuses or reasons to give."

Seeing my honesty, Alicia fell silent, scowled, and walked away.

Not long after, I settled into my work. Time flew by unnoticed. When I finally finished, I took off my headphones and looked up—realizing that I was the only one left in the entire office.

Glancing at the clock, it was already 11:30 PM. I cursed under my breath at my coworkers, who didn't even say goodbye before leaving.

Then the sharp click of high heels echoed behind me. Alicia tossed aside her takeout box, came over, and casually sat in the chair next to mine.

"Why didn't you reply to my messages?"

I pulled up my laptop and switched out of my program, realizing she had sent me messages after all.

"Can you help me check which CPU, motherboard, and graphics card are better? I want something that can handle AAA games.

"And how should I set up the case lighting? Is water cooling better, or air cooling?"

She knew I knew this stuff—in a way, it was my area of expertise. After all, it was my livelihood.

A year ago, I had mentioned to her that I wanted a new CPU. Not because I expected a gift, but because her attention toward me had been so unpredictable. I wanted a subtle way to prove my place in her life.

At the time, she had snapped impatiently, "You've been out of college for two years! Stop thinking about games all day. Focus on working hard!"

I had carefully explained the difference between CPUs and graphics cards—gaming relied more on the GPU, but for my work, CPU priority came first. She hadn't listened.

Now, I made a clear list of the components and sent it to her. She was thrilled. After ordering, she grabbed me to leave the office together.

On the way home, I sat in the back seat, still running programs on my laptop. I scrolled through social media and saw Chuck's latest post: a perfect nine-grid layout, captioned: [Just casually mentioned it, but I feel the happiness of being loved.]

When I opened the photo, it turned out to be Alicia's newly ordered gaming setup—the whole shebang.

I gave it a like and casually commented: [Wishing you happiness.]

Moments later, Alicia received a message from Chuck. The car braked sharply, pulling over to the side. She turned, glaring at me.

"It's just a gaming set! Why are you being passive-aggressive on his social feed? I'll buy you anything you want when we get home. Everything. Happy now?"

I wasn't amused and didn't even lift my head. Her sudden brake had hit my laptop, interrupting a program I was about to finish testing. I'd have to rerun it and wait all over again…

I had no interest in arguing. Sighing, I started the test again, speaking carefully as I worked.