We have been dating for ten years, but Vincent Carter has never been romantic toward me.

However, before our wedding, he has someone deliver a delicate bracelet and an elegant dress to me.

I take photos of them happily, only to find a card tucked inside the dress that's not addressed to me.

Just as I'm about to contact Vincent, I see a post from Emily Foster, his childhood sweetheart, on her social media.

"Someone stole something that belongs to me!"

That's also how I find out Vincent has also bought her an apartment.

The address stated on the card is for the unit downstairs.

The gift is meant for unit 701, but it's delivered to me by mistake.

I pick up the items and go downstairs, just in time to see Vincent gently comforting her in his arms.

The moment he sees me, his face darkens with irritation.

"Can you stop overreacting? You're always suspicious for no reason. Emily and I grew up together. If we were going to be together, you wouldn't even be in the picture!"

If it were before, I would've been furious and demanded an explanation.

But now, I simply let out a chuckle and toss the gifts onto him.

"I wish you both the best, then."

The dress lay on the floor.

Vincent Carter narrowed his eyes and kicked the dress aside. It felt as though the kick landed right on my face.

"If you still want to get married, stop overreacting all the time. Stop making a scene. Emily and I have things to deal with. Go home and reflect on your behavior."

It was the same accusatory words as always. But this time, I felt nothing at all.

After walking out, I sent the photo I'd just taken of the two of them hugging to the family group chat.

Then, I added, "Congratulations to Vincent on his new relationship. The wedding's off."

Vincent, who rarely replied in the group, quickly explained, "We were just leaning in to look at a file."

Then came another round of accusations, saying I was overly sensitive and suspicious.

"Charlene, do you have to keep making a scene just because I didn't bring you to a business meeting? I didn't say anything when you went shopping with another guy, did I?"

Instantly, the group chat was bombarded with new messages.

My dad started sending several long voice notes in the group.

He scolded me, saying I should be grateful Vincent was even willing to marry me, that this was just a mistake all men would make.

After yelling at me, he warned me to make up with Vincent.

Those words kept ringing in my ears.

If people didn't know any better, they might have thought he was Vincent's father.

After my mom passed away, my dad started drinking and yelling at me every day.

I grew up under years of shouting and hitting. When I met Vincent, I thought he would be my salvation.

But ten years of being with him had shown me exactly what kind of person he was. He was nothing like the version he showed to others.

In front of Emily Foster, he was the perfect gentleman, pouring all his affection on her.

And in front of strangers, he was always polite and considerate.

But with me, all I got was blatant disgust and constant, aggressive scolding.

He enjoyed scolding me in front of other people the most so he could watch me panic, flustered and helpless.

Then, in the end, he would pretend he didn't want to argue and softly apologized.

That way, everyone else would think I was the one making a fuss, while he stood tall on the moral high ground.

But this time, I wasn't going to let him get away with it.

Only someone who still wanted to stay would keep clinging on.

I had given up on loving him, and I wouldn't let him come home just because he was with Emily now.

When Vincent came back, he was holding a gift bag and the dress that had been dirtied underfoot.

"Why didn't you clean up? You're really mad? You wanted the gifts, right? This one's for you. The dress is still wearable. You just need to wash it first. Quit making a scene."

He tossed the filthy dress right onto me.

I used to want a sense of ceremony. I hoped Vincent would remember my birthday and our anniversaries, even if it was just by going out for a meal.

But every time I brought it up, he didn't care at all.

"I'm exhausted. If you want all that sentimental crap, go find someone else. I can give you gifts, but I don't like you asking for them. Besides, you stay home all day. What's the point of having that stuff?"

Everything he said made it clear—he looked down on me for even asking, even though in the beginning, he said he liked the feeling of being needed.

He liked that I waited at home for him.

In Vincent's mind, I probably ranked lower than a maid.

As for the sense of ceremony, he wouldn't even spare me some time to go out for a meal. Yet, with Emily, he would offer up delicate jewelry and beautiful dresses courteously.

I saw one of Emily's posts on social media.

On her slender wrist was that delicate bracelet.

They were dancing hand in hand.

And that filthy, trampled dress was right in front of me now.

I balled it up and tossed it into the trash.

Then, I looked at Vincent and spoke calmly. "I don't want to keep dirty clothes, and I don't want a dirty man either."

Vincent stared at me with a cold, threatening look.

"Charlene, who gave you the confidence to say something like that? You're spending my money! If you weren't with me, where would you go?"

I opened my mouth to speak.

In these ten years, I had barely spent a cent of his money.

He said he wanted me to stay home and wait for him, so I found a remote part-time job that let me do just that.

Most of our expenses over the years were covered with the money I earned.

I hadn't even gotten the chance to refute when there was a knock on the door.

I couldn't be bothered to respond to his aggressive tone as I took the cake from the delivery guy.

Vincent glanced over with a cold expression, then froze.

"Tenth anniversary?"

Today was our ten-year anniversary.

I had started planning things days ago—figuring out how we'd spend the day, putting together a menu, and ordering a cake.

I had really been looking forward to our first decade together.

Pressing his lips together, Vincent took the cake from my hands.

"Work's been a lot lately. When I'm free, we'll go out to buy a dress and some jewelry."

He set the cake aside and reached for my hand, trying to pull me to sit with him on the couch.

"Charlene, stop dwelling on all this petty stuff. Emily's just like a sister to me. Nothing's going on between us."

Like a sister?

I still remembered our one-year anniversary.

That day, he went out drinking with his friends. He had too much, and I went to pick him up.

One of them asked him, "Are you really fine with giving up like this?"

Vincent replied, "Emily said she only sees me as a brother. If that's the case, Charlene's the best option."

Back then, I naively believed I could win his heart.

But now, I realized the ending was decided long ago.

At least I was lucky enough to still have the courage to walk away.

"It's fine. Go deal with your work," I said.

Vincent paused, looking at me in surprise.

He was already used to me giving in and compromising, so he didn't think I'd make a fuss.

He thought this would all blow over, and we'd sit down to eat the cake together.

"Come on. Let's eat the cake."

This was actually the first time we'd ever sat together on our anniversary.

Before, I used to wish more than anything that he'd just come home and be with me.

But now, all I wanted to do was cut him off completely and chase after a life that was truly mine.

I came out of the kitchen, ready to cut the cake.

However, I was suddenly alone in the room.

The cake I had left on the table was gone.

Vincent had left so suddenly, but still remembered to take the cake with him.

He didn't even bother to change his shoes.

I sat down and took out my phone.

Sure enough, Emily had just updated her social media.

"My period suddenly came, and I was craving something sweet. My knight brought me cake in five minutes!"

In the photo was the very cake I had bought.

Vincent had even liked the post.

I left a comment. "Enjoy the cake."

A moment later, my phone lit up. It was a voice message from Vincent.

"Come downstairs for a bit. Emily's not feeling well. I'm taking her out to get some medicine. Make her a bowl of ginger soup, and remember to take the ginger pieces out. Hurry up."

I listened to Vincent's voice message, a little dazed.

In the past, whenever I cooked something with ginger in it, he would scold me endlessly for it, saying that someone like me would be fired even if I were a live-in maid.

It turned out that he wasn't the one who couldn't eat ginger.

I tossed my phone aside, not planning to respond. But after a moment, I decided to go down and take a look anyway.

Vincent was gently massaging Emily's lower abdomen.

The second he saw me, his face darkened.

"Took you long enough. I asked you to come down, not drag your feet. I really don't know what you're even good for."

Emily reached out, placing her hand over his lips gently.

"Vince, don't say that. It was my fault for asking you to come here."

"Alright, enough. Emily needs you. Why are you still standing there? Go make the soup! If you're going to keep being so petty, then we'll cancel the wedding!"

He threw those words at me and walked out with Emily in his arms.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, letting out a cold laugh.

"Well, canceling the wedding with a scumbag is a win for me."

After they were gone, I looked around the apartment.

Clothes were scattered all over the living room.

On the couch, there was a set of clearly used lingerie, still damp with visible stains.

I forced myself to suppress the nausea rising in my chest.

So, this was what Vincent meant by being busy with work.

He had indeed been busy, just not at the company, but in Emily's bed.

The entire place was decorated with luxury in mind.

Even the couch was a high-end designer piece, and the purse casually thrown on the table was from an international brand.

I still remember a few days ago, when I reminded Vincent our tenth anniversary was coming up, he assumed I was trying to ask for a gift.

He pointed his finger at me in annoyance. "Tenth year anniversary? Why do you still want to celebrate stuff like this? You're not young anymore. Just cook something at home and be done with it. Stop daydreaming. We're about to get married, so we need to save money. No one acts like you, you know?"

I wasn't young anymore, but both of us had come from our youth together.

As for Emily, she wasn't just young and beautiful, but she was also the one he had always wanted but could never have. She was his true love.

Quietly, I recorded everything in this place on video and backed it up to cloud storage.

Then, I went home and started packing my things.

I dated Vincent for ten years. Looking back, I didn't think he ever really gave me anything.

He said this apartment was to give me a "home", but it never belonged to me.

In the end, I left quietly.

All the clothes and jewelry were things I bought myself with my own money. Yet, he accused me of being materialistic.

Suddenly, it hit me. This relationship really wasn't worth it.

He prepared lavish, expensive gifts for Emily.

But when I packed up to leave, everything I took with me was something I had bought for myself.

Once my suitcase was packed, I messaged my childhood best friend, who was living abroad.

She called me back instantly.

Holding back my tears, I uttered, "Madison, I regret everything. I shouldn't have trusted him. I want to start over. I want to leave this place."

Madison Stewart cursed me out for a bit, then moved on to cursing Vincent.

I finally had an outlet to pour out all the pain I had been bottling up.

Back then, Madison used to scold me for being blinded by love. She told me I would regret it one day, but I just wouldn't listen.

I remembered the look in her eyes when she left for abroad—she was so angry and disappointed in me.

"I've booked you a flight. Pack your stuff and get over here."

With that, Madison hung up.

I stared at my phone, and tears finally spilled.

These ten years were finally coming to an end.