In the past, whenever I was upset, Daniel would cook a meal to apologize, but he always seemed to forget that I was allergic to seafood. When I reminded him, he scratched his head, offering a sheepish smile. “I forgot! I’ll remember next time,” he said.
I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. How could he forget? Didn’t he know how much Helena loved seafood?
I realized then that my love for Daniel had come to an end.
For the first time, he sat down at the table and carefully peeled shrimp, filling my bowl with food. “I’m sorry about the ring. I’ll buy you a bigger one when I get back,” he promised. “You know Helena is my first love, but you’re the one who’s been with me the longest. You should be the one I marry.”
I turned my head away, suddenly feeling the weight of his words. They were so beautiful, yet reality felt entirely different.
How many times had I heard him whisper Helena's name at night? Each time, Daniel would dismiss my concerns, insisting I must have misheard it as Helena. Back then, I didn’t take it seriously; I thought time would prove everything.
But after eight long years, I could no longer deceive myself—Daniel only loved Helena. Perhaps it was the first time in ages that he’d seen me cry, but he simply sighed and repeated, “I still say the same thing. As long as you apologize to Helena, I’ll never speak of you unruly again.”
It dawned on me that my sincerity was met with nothing but his unreasonable demands. I couldn’t understand why he would embrace me, whispering promises of forever, if he didn’t love me. If he truly didn’t care, wouldn’t it be better to just break up openly? Instead, he twisted the knife deeper into my heart, leaving me drained and in pain.
When he noticed I hadn’t touched the seafood, a flicker of panic crossed his face. “I forgot you were allergic,” he said, hastily removing the dishes. His apology was there, but it felt hollow. “I won’t forget next time.” It was always “next time,” but I knew there would be no next time.
“It’s impossible to apologize,” I replied softly. “There’s no future for us.” No matter how much he pleaded, I remained unyielding. In a fit of frustration, he swept all the food off the table and stormed out, leaving the door wide open behind him.
A moment later, I saw him in Helena’s social media posts, and the ache in my heart intensified. “It’s still the same as when we first fell in love,” he had written. “Whenever you’re unhappy, you just crawl into my arms.”
I picked at some leftovers before retreating to the second bedroom. Once inside, I pulled out my phone, hesitating for what felt like an eternity before finally clicking the button to call my best friend.
"Nicole, I... I want to give up on him."
As soon as I heard her voice, the weight of my emotions crashed over me, and I could no longer hold back the tears. All the hurt and grievance I had been suppressing spilled out uncontrollably.
When everyone else suspected that I had been the one to expose Daniel and Helena’s relationship, only Nicole stood by me, ready to defend me against their accusations. “I told you Daniel was a man you couldn’t trust, but you wouldn’t listen,” she had said, her voice filled with concern.
“Forget it,” she continued, “I’ll book a flight for you tomorrow. Come stay with me and just relax for a while.”
I cried until my tears ran dry, then quickly packed my things. I couldn’t bear the thought of being in the same room with them; the mere idea made me feel physically ill.
But just when I longed for some peace, Daniel’s calls pierced through the quiet of the night. When I finally picked up, his exasperated voice rushed in.
"Why didn’t you answer? Forget it. What brand of ointment is the most effective? Helena got bitten by a mosquito, and now she’s itching like crazy. Hurry up and send the ointment from home!"
I glanced at the clock—it was three in the morning. Helena was calling me for mosquito bite ointment. It was almost laughable how absurd the situation was.
When I was bitten, Daniel would merely cross his fingers and say a little prayer for me, never bothering to offer ointment or even a moment of genuine concern. I had always thought that was normal, but hearing his anxious tone for Helena made the disparity clear. It hit me like a ton of bricks: there was a world of difference between love and indifference.
Daniel continued to urge me, but I simply replied, "Okay," and was about to hang up when he added, "Hurry up, I'll wait for you at the door." I cut him off mid-sentence.
Afterward, I glanced at the countless missed calls from him and decisively turned off my phone. I was done being disturbed at odd hours for something as trivial as a mosquito bite.
I was jolted awake by a knock at the door just after dawn. When I opened it, Daniel stood, stubble on his face and a look of determination in his eyes.
"I asked you to deliver the ointment. Why are you at the hotel?" I asked, keeping my tone cold and my expression guarded. I didn't want to engage with him—after all, nothing I said ever seemed to come out right.
"Gianna, stop making a fuss. I won't press you about this any longer," he said, his voice softer. "But don’t forget, we still have a wedding to attend tonight."
I crossed my arms, holding my ground. "You can handle the wedding dress, the photos, everything else. It’s your show."
At this point, he still thought I was just making a fuss.
I nodded slightly, signaling that I understood.
Daniel seemed taken aback by my lack of tears; he opened his mouth to say something but then fell silent.
"Let’s go, then... Let’s start with the wedding dress," I said, keeping my voice steady.
He instinctively opened the front passenger door and waited for me to get in, as he always did. But for me, the front seat no longer felt like my place. Instead, I climbed into the back seat, creating a clear boundary between us.
Daniel stared at me for several seconds, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Why don’t you sit in the front?” he finally asked, his tone questioning.
I ignored his question, my thoughts consumed by visions of wedding dresses. The last time I had chosen a style, it was to please Daniel, never considering what I truly wanted. This time, I was determined to be my own bride.
However, instead of heading to the wedding dress shop, Daniel turned the car around to go home and pick up Helena first. When she hopped in, she smiled and casually opened the passenger door, pouting her lips as if she were about to kiss him. She quickly settled into the co-pilot seat, and Daniel instinctively wrapped his arms around her.
After a moment, she seemed to remember my presence and pushed Helena away awkwardly. “Gianna is here too? Why didn’t you say anything? There’s no teacher here to complain to you.”
I continued to listen to Daniel’s weak attempts at justification. “Gianna, don’t think too much; it was Helena who said she wanted to pick a wedding dress for herself.”
Bored and disinterested, I turned my gaze out the window, tuning them out completely.
In the bridal shop, Daniel eagerly selected the most beautiful and expensive wedding dresses for Helena, while I was left with a torn, yellowed second-hand dress. Eight years of love paled in comparison to the allure of his first love. Frustrated, I tossed the shabby dresses to the ground and set off to find a wedding gown that truly represented me.
As I stepped out of the dressing room, Daniel’s gaze was fixed on Helena, completely ignoring me as I admired myself in the mirror. Suddenly, Helena insisted on taking a group photo. But the moment the shutter clicked, she elbowed me out of the frame. The wedding photo that should have featured me was now a snapshot of her smiling face.
“Miss, your husband seems…” the photographer began, but I waved my hand dismissively. Daniel was no longer important to me.
I wore my wedding dress alone, capturing the most beautiful photo of myself—unaccompanied by the man who should have been at my side. Meanwhile, Daniel had already left to dine with Helena, oblivious to my absence. His image had already appeared in her circle of friends, leaving me feeling more invisible than ever.
"I bit my tongue while eating, but luckily Daniel blew on it, and it healed quickly!" I smiled, giving her a thumbs up.
When I got home, I finally checked my luggage. Just as I was about to close it, I found a letter written by Daniel. My heart sank as I read the words: "Please investigate this matter thoroughly and never let Gianna go." Each stroke of his pen seemed to accuse me, insisting that I was the one at fault.
I looked up at the house, feeling a heartache that left me numb. It was clear now. Daniel had always loved Helena, and I had merely filled the void when he was lonely. I couldn't help but laugh bitterly at my own foolishness.
The truth had been there all along, especially since I discovered that Daniel had reserved a room to post photos of Helena. I should have understood then that this love was never truly mine. He claimed those photos were given to him by friends, and I forced myself to believe it, choosing to ignore the nagging suspicion that he was still infatuated with her.
Now, seeing the reality laid bare before me, I had nothing left to say. I placed the wedding dress and photos I had bought that day back in the house and headed for the airport alone.
“Everyone is waiting for you to appear. Where are you?”
I glanced at Daniel's endless messages on my phone and made my choice. I turned off the device, resolute in my decision to break free.
"Let's break up."
