In the seventh year of my relationship with Leigh Ellis, her family extended a warm invitation to my mother and me to join them at their ancestral home for the New Year.

My mother was ecstatic, her joy lighting up the room. Determined to make a lasting impression on her future in-laws, she spent the entire afternoon meticulously preparing. She even pulled out an elegant dress she hadn’t worn in years, its fabric still rich with memories of another time.

On the way to the ancestral home, Leigh suddenly received a call from her childhood friend, Wendell Gatlin.

Without offering much explanation, she told us to find our own way and drove off in a rush, leaving us behind.

Barely a minute after we stepped out of the car, my mother crumpled into the snow. The icy cold awakened her old illness and her heart stopped.

Panic surged through me as I fumbled to call Leigh. Her car carried an AED; her return was my mother's only chance.

But no matter how many times I called, every ring was met with an unforgiving silence.

When she finally picked up, her tone was sharp and irritating. "Harris Laurier, didn’t I tell you to figure out your own ride? Can’t you understand simple words?" she snapped.

"Wendell’s stomach ulcer is acting up. I need to check on him immediately."

"Ask Auntie to hold on for a bit. Once she gets to the mansion, I’ll personally apologize to her," she added dismissively.

Before I could say a word, the line went dead. When I tried calling again, her phone was turned off.

I clutched my mother in my arms, tears blurring my vision as she slipped away right there in the snow.

An hour later, Wendell updated his social media. In the photo, he and Leigh stood close in the courtyard of the ancestral home, spring couplets in their hands. Their faces radiated joy as they leaned against each other.

“Celebrating the New Year with the one I love most is the greatest happiness of my life!” the caption read.

My heart crumbled to ash. I tossed the engagement letter and ring into the trash with trembling hands.

Then, I liked the post and commented: "Happy New Year. Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together."

——

Barely a moment later, Leigh, whose phone had been off all this time, called me back:

"Harris, what’s the meaning of that comment?" she demanded, her tone sharp and indignant.

"Wendell posted a New Year greeting and you respond with something so passive-aggressive? What’s your problem?"

"And now it’s dark and we’re about to start the reunion dinner. Wendell even pushed through his stomach pain to make Auntie’s favorite sweet-and-sour pork."

"Our whole family is waiting for you. When are you and Auntie planning to arrive?"

Grief engulfed me like a tide, leaving my heart heavy and lifeless, as still as dead water.

After losing my mother, I reflected deeply and came to understand so much more.

With a calmness I hadn’t felt in days, I said, "We’re not coming. Have dinner without us."

Her voice immediately rose, sharp and accusing.

"Harris, you better think this through!"

"My parents invited you over mainly to talk about our wedding. If you’ll back out over something so trivial, then maybe we shouldn’t even bother discussing marriage."

I nodded, my tone unwavering. "We shouldn’t."

"Leigh, let’s break up."

For a moment, she was completely silent, stunned into disbelief. In the seven years we’d been together, we had fought, argued and disagreed, but never had the word "breakup" crossed my lips.

She couldn’t fathom that I had actually said it.

Then, cutting through the silence, Wendell’s voice emerged beside her.

"Leigh, my stomach seems to be acting up again. Could you help me back to the room to rest?"

Without hesitation, she replied, "Of course," and then spoke sharply into the phone, "Harris, you said it yourself. Fine, we’ll break up. But don’t come crawling back to me later."

I didn’t say a word, ending the call without another thought.

By the time I had buried my mother, the seventh day of the New Year had arrived. In all that time, Leigh hadn’t called or messaged even once.

Her social media stayed eerily silent, while Wendell’s was a flurry of activity, updated like clockwork every single day.

One day, it was photos from the flower market; the next was from a temple fair and the day after that, it was a skiing trip.

Each photo, perfectly framed, featured Leigh, her presence unmistakable. The comments section erupted with excitement.

“Congrats, class rep! You’ve finally ended up with Leigh, the campus beauty.”

“True love always finds its way. Best wishes to both of you.”

“I’ve always said it—you're a perfect match.”

“Class rep, when’s the wedding banquet? We’ve been waiting forever!”

***

At home, I sat on the sofa, staring out at the snow that gently fell outside, frozen in place for the entire afternoon.

As darkness fell, the sound of keys turning in the lock echoed from the entryway.

Leigh had returned.

She paused for a moment when she saw me on the sofa.

“Harris, it’s dark. Why didn’t you turn on the lights?”

I lifted my gaze to her briefly but said nothing.

Leigh kicked off her high heels and walked over, sitting beside me.

“What, still mad at me?”

As she leaned in closer, I caught the sharp mix of cigarette smoke and men’s cologne on her.

Her crimson lips brushed toward mine, but I pulled back ever so slightly.

Leigh froze.

In the past, no matter how heated our arguments had been, her tenderness and kisses always soothed my anger.

But now, not only had I rejected her, but she also saw the disdain in my eyes.

Her brow furrowed. “Harris, how long are you going to keep this up?”

“It’s the New Year; I don’t want to argue with you.”

I pressed my lips together, remaining silent.

Her expression softened slightly. “I admit, leaving you both stranded on New Year’s Eve was thoughtless.”

“But Wendell had a serious stomach issue; I couldn’t just leave him alone.”

“Besides, I promised I’d apologize to your mom personally.”

“And just because of something so trivial, you and your mom missed the dinner.”

“Do you have any idea how much effort my parents put into that New Year’s dinner?”

“Do you know how disappointed and angry they were when you didn’t show up?”

“If it weren’t for Wendell speaking up for you, our engagement might’ve been off the table.”

Leigh pulled a gilded red invitation card from her bag and placed it on the coffee table.

“The engagement party is already set for the Portland Winter Light Festival. My parents have everything arranged.”

“I’ll call your mom right now; I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

I took a deep breath, struggling to keep my emotions in check. “There’s no need. We’ve already broken up.”

“And she won’t answer your call.”

Leigh’s brows furrowed even deeper. “Harris, you’re an adult. Can you stop acting like a child?”

“Do you know how much your mom dotes on me?”

“She’s told me she dreams of the day I marry you.”

“How could she possibly not answer my call?”

Her words pierced through me like an invisible hand, tightening around my chest until I could barely breathe.

She wasn’t wrong. My mom truly adored her and treated her as if she were her own.

If Leigh casually mentioned craving soup, my mom would be up before dawn, buying the freshest ingredients.

If Leigh complained about a cleaning service, my mom would show up herself, rain or shine, to tidy up.

When Leigh fell ill while I was away, my mom rushed her to the hospital, pushing herself to the brink of exhaustion despite her heart condition.

After seven years of living together, my mom had showered Leigh with as much love as she had given me.

So, when the Ellis Family invited us for New Year's dinner, my mom didn’t hesitate for a second.

Wanting to leave a lasting impression on her future in-laws, she began her preparations at the crack of dawn:

Styling her hair, applying foundation, carefully drawing her eyebrows…

She even pulled out the formal dress she had cherished for over a decade.

I tried to convince her that the weather was too cold and it wouldn’t be suitable for the New Year.

With a gentle smile, she assured me it was fine. She could wear a coat over it and with the cars picking us up and dropping us off, she wouldn’t catch a chill.

Besides, the formal dress had been a gift from my father on their wedding day.

Wearing it, she said, would be her way of honoring him.

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she spoke.

I fell silent for a few seconds, no longer trying to change her mind.

On the way to the Ellis Family’s ancestral home, my mother chatted and laughed with Leigh, her voice light and full of warmth.

But when Leigh’s phone rang, Wendell’s name flashing on the screen, her smile disappeared as if it had been wiped away with a single stroke.

She suggested we take a cab ourselves, but I refused.

In this heavy snow, hailing a cab seemed impossible and I couldn’t bear the thought of my mother enduring the cold.

My mother caught the sudden shift in Leigh’s mood and gave me a knowing look.

Always the dutiful son, I couldn’t go against her wishes, so I finally stepped out of the car.

Who could have known that less than a minute later, my mother, unable to endure the bitter cold, would collapse from a heart attack?

The more I replayed that moment in my mind, the colder my heart became and the deeper the ache settled within.

I wanted to slap myself.

If only I had been firmer, maybe my mother wouldn’t have died.

Seeing my silence, Leigh finally snapped, her patience thinning.

“Harris, I’m so disappointed in you,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

“Fine, since you’re so stubborn, I’ll let your mom decide who’s right and who’s wrong.”

As she reached for her phone, a ringtone sliced through the air, a distinct, familiar tone, one I’d heard only on New Year’s Eve.

Leigh’s expression faltered for just a moment before she quickly stepped onto the balcony to take the call.

Faint voices filtered through, but they were distant, muffled.

“Who are you…? What? Wendell’s drunk and passed out on the roadside?”

“…Alright, thank you. I’ll be there right away!”

Leigh rushed out, not even sparing me a glance or offering an explanation.

It was the same decisive, almost callous manner she’d shown when she abandoned my mother and me that night.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

No matter the situation, Wendell would always occupy a sacred spot in her heart.

If that was the case, it was time for me to leave.

My mother’s most cherished wish was seeing me marry and have children, had always been to visit Luxembourg.

It was where she and my father first met, a place filled with memories too beautiful to capture in words.

Yet, in all these years, I’d failed to make that wish come true, too consumed with taking care of Leigh.

Now, I had made up my mind. I would set off on a journey around the world with my mother’s ashes and Luxembourg would be the final stop.

As I delved into the details of the trip, Wendell’s social media updates caught my eye once more.

I had no intention of looking, but somehow, my fingers betrayed me, clicking on the screen.

The first photo showed Leigh, someone who had never so much as stepped into a kitchen, cooking noodles.

The second photo captured her feeding the noodles to Wendell, her face glowing with concern, tenderness and warmth I had never known her to show me.

The third photo was of her cleaning stains off the carpet and sofa with meticulous care.

A wave of bitterness and sorrow flooded my chest.

Last year, during the Autumn Luminary Festival, I had drunk three bottles of red wine with a client for a key Ellis Group project, vomiting until my head spun.

When Leigh found me passed out on the sofa, she was utterly at a loss, eventually calling my mother for help.

While my mother worked tirelessly to care for me, Leigh stood at a distance, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the smell of my sickness.

But when Wendell was in need, there wasn’t a trace of disgust in her eyes, only care that seemed to surpass the duties of a real wife.

Leigh didn’t return that night, nor did she show up the next few days.