Love, Hate, and Farewell

In the fourth year of our marriage, I realized I didn't love my husband at all.
His hand on my waist made my skin crawl.
Our nightly goodnight kiss felt like torture.
Even his clothes, fresh from the laundry, seemed to carry a foreign, unpleasant scent.
But I was the one who had pursued Nick Shaw so relentlessly. This was the bed Id made, and now I had to lie in it, even if it meant choking back tears.
My unhappiness grew, and I wasted away, day by day.
Until one afternoon, I saw a conversation on his phone:
How could you run out on me at a time like that!
Shes too in love with me. What if she couldn't live without me? I can't be that cruel.
If I hadnt stepped aside back then, would you have chosen me?
Yes.
That day, my mood lifted for the first time in months.
I devoured three whole bowls of egg fried rice.

1
The sofa felt crowded.
When Nick sat down, his long legs, clad in tailored trousers, naturally pressed against mine. I quietly shifted two inches away, letting out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
He didnt seem to notice, surrounded as he was by a circle of fawning acquaintances. This reunion had been orchestrated by an old classmate who needed a favor, and Nick was, without question, the center of attention. He carried himself with an easy confidence, a calm that bordered on aloofness. His usual cool demeanor.
"You're a dark horse, man! A rising star in the business world in just a few years. Leaves the rest of us in the dust!"
"Anna, you're the one who really hit the jackpot! But you'd better keep a tight leash on him. Nick was getting love letters by the bundle back when he was a broke student. Now that he's made it, the women out there must be throwing themselves at him!"
"What's to be afraid of! The way Anna chased Nick back then was legendary! Now shes gone from a feisty girl to a gorgeous socialite. She can handle any stray butterflies that come fluttering around!"
Amid the chorus of flattery, a woman in the corner let out a sharp scoff. It cut through the noise.
"Some people just have all the luck, I guess. It's amazing how a rich girl stealing someone's man can be spun into a fairytale romance. I guess its true what they sayeveryone celebrates the new love and forgets the one who was left crying."
The words hung in the air, and an awkward silence fell over the group.
I turned to look at the speaker. I recognized her as one of the many girls who had sent Nick love letters back in the day. Her face was flushed crimson; she was clearly drunk.
Nick said nothing, merely lifting his wine glass for a slow sip. I understood his silent command: Stay quiet. Dont engage.
Normally, I would have obeyed.
But not this time.
"The way you say that," I said, tilting my head, "you'd almost make people think you and Nick were a couple and I broke you up."
The woman froze, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. "I never said that! Don't twist my words. I was talking about someone else! Are you going to deny that you took advantage of the situation and snatched him from her?"
All eyes were on me now, gleaming with the thrill of impending drama. Her words were nasty, and even if I didn't want a fight, I had to set the record straight.
I looked directly at her. "Sorry to disappoint you, but when Nick and I got together, he was one hundred percent single. And if by 'someone else,' you mean"
"That's enough."
Nick's voice was sharp, laced with annoyance. He set his glass down on the table with a soft thud, the red liquid sloshing inside. "Anna, it's just a joke between classmates. Don't be so dramatic. You're making a scene."
At his words, the other woman shot me a look of triumphant disdain.
I pressed my lips together. Dramatic? Someone insults me, and I'm not supposed to defend myself?
But as I opened my mouth to argue, a familiar sensation washed over me. It happened all the time lately. A certain phrase from Nick, a specific gesture, sometimes just the sound of his voice would trigger this strange feeling inside me.
It was like the seventh bite of a cake that's suddenly too sweet, a balloon shriveled and wrinkled, the bitter aftertaste of tea left out overnight.
All flavor was gone, leaving only a dull disinterest.
Suddenly, the whole argument felt pointless. I closed my mouth.
The reunion ended on a cheerful note, with everyone saying their goodbyes. As we turned to leave, Nick reached to put his arm around my waist. I subtly sidestepped, avoiding his touch.
His lips thinned. He gave me a long, hard look.

2
Later that night, as we were getting ready for bed, Nick emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp. He was an incredibly disciplined man. Despite his demanding work schedule, he never skipped a workout, maintaining a lean, muscular physique. He was tall, with handsome features that could rival any movie star.
There was a time when I was completely captivated by his looks.
But now, the moment the door opened, I silently turned off my phone and closed my eyes.
I felt the mattress dip beside me, his hot breath ghosting across my ear.
"Anna, are you asleep?" His voice was deep, heavy with desire.
As his fingers began to explore, I opened my eyes and pressed his hand down. "I'm a little tired today."
He froze for a second, his voice tight with frustration. "You're tired every day."
"Yes," I said, pushing his hand away and pulling the covers tighter around me. "I've been getting tired easily lately. I'm sorry."
He was silent for a long time, unmoving. I let out a sigh of relief and prepared to drift off.
But then, he spoke into the darkness.
"You don't have to be like this."
I was half-asleep. "Like what?"
A low, cold laugh. "This act you've been putting on lately, in public and in private. It's all because of Sylvia, isn't it?"

3
I was stunned, unsure why he was suddenly bringing up Sylvia. It took me a moment to understand what he meant.
Sylvia. Nick's old flame.
The "someone else" the woman at the reunion had been talking about.
The first time I saw Nick, he and Sylvia were standing side-by-side on a campus path, each holding a stack of books, watching me argue with someone. My new car had knocked over a fruit vendor's cart, and he was wailing for me to pay for damages and his medical bills. No one in the crowd believed me when I said he'd deliberately run into my car. They all accused me of being a rich, arrogant bully.
Just as I was about to be swallowed by their accusations, a clear voice cut through the noise.
"Since when is fault in a traffic accident determined by who's rich and who's poor?"
I whipped my head around and saw him. Nick, in a white shirt, dappled in the light filtering through the trees. Tall, lean, and clean-cut.
In that one glance, he found a place in my heart.
Before I decided to pursue him, I made a special trip to find Sylvia, the campus beauty from the civil engineering department, and ask what their relationship was. They were always together, and everyone assumed they were a couple.
Sylvia toyed with a lock of her long hair, thought for a moment, and smiled. "We're just classmates from the same hometown."
When Nick heard her answer, he was silent for a few seconds before stating, expressionless, "It's just like she said."
I grew up wealthy, pretty, and bright. My parents taught me to be brave in expressing my love. I had never met a boy like Nick before. Satisfied with their answers, I launched a full-blown, public campaign to win him over.
Nick had fought his way out of a poor, rural town and possessed a fierce pride. He rejected me, saying he wouldn't date anyone until hed paid off his ten years of student loans.
But back then, my world revolved around him. A rare smile, an occasional agreement to have dinner, a casual show of concernany of these could send me into a state of euphoria and fuel my determination.
I chased him for two years, and for two years, he rejected me.
What finally broke through his defenses was his mother's sudden illness. His entire family was helpless in the face of the thirty-thousand-dollar medical bill. As Nick grew thinner with each failed loan application, I took out my entire personal savings and gently asked him to accept it.
That day, for the first time, I saw his helplessness, his vulnerability, and his gratitude.
Three months later, he appeared below my dorm with a bouquet of roses. I ran into his arms, my face burning. I was trembling with happiness, and his eyes were red-rimmed too.
"Anna, how can you love me so much? How did I get so lucky?"
At Sylvia's wedding, when she saw Nick and me arrive hand-in-hand, a flicker of something unreadable crossed her face. Later, coming out of the restroom, I saw them standing together on the balcony, talking. It was just like the day I first met them.
The wind carried snippets of their conversation to me.
"...I was waiting for you to say something back then..."
"...Anna is a good girl..."
"...I guess we just weren't meant to be..."
At the time, I thought, everyone has a youthful crush. She was married now, and Nick was good to me. We were on our own paths. That was all that mattered.
But I never anticipated that life could fire an arrow backward, and that it would come with such devastating force.
Six months ago, Sylvia got divorced. She had rushed into a marriage with a trust-fund kid, only to suffer infidelity and domestic abuse. He took their child and his family schemed to leave her with nothing.
She found Nick, looking haggard and broken.
A man always holds a special place for the girl he crushed on when he was poor. The first time she called, Nick was completely thrown. Perhaps to make up for a past regret, or perhaps to show off how successful he'd become, he threw himself into helping her.
For the past six months, he has practically dropped everything for herpaying for lawyers, running around gathering evidence, confronting her ex-husband's family, even spending holidays with her and her child.
At first, I told him how uncomfortable it made me.
He looked at me with disappointment, his voice cold. "Sylvia is from my hometown, and she was our classmate. She's a woman who's been abused and had her child taken from her. She's at the end of her rope. Shouldn't I help her?"
So, time and time again, I was left behind. Time and time again, when I couldn't reach him, Id see him on Sylvia's social media feed. A photo of his back as he helped her look for an apartment. His suit jacket draped over her sofa. Four hands playing with her golden retriever.
Slowly, I stopped saying anything.
When Nick didn't come home, I went to bed early.
When he spent a holiday at an amusement park with her and her son, I bought myself a very expensive handbag.
Sylvias posts no longer stirred anything in me. I almost liked one out of habit.
Nick was pleased with my understanding nature and bought me a large diamond as a gift. I expressed the appropriate surprise and gratitude, but when he leaned in to kiss me, I instinctively coughed and turned away.
He froze, a complex expression on his face.
And it was from that day on that I had a shocking realization:
I think I didn't love Nick anymore.
The thought sent a wave of panic through me. No wonder I recoiled from his touch. No wonder his voice grated on my nerves. No wonder his clean clothes smelled so strangely repulsive to me.
I didn't love him anymore.
But I didn't know what to do.
Divorce? On what grounds? That I'd fallen out of love? Marriage wasn't a game, and I was certain no one would believe that reason. In everyone's eyes, including Nick's, I was madly in love with him.
Because we didn't get along? Nick wasn't an expressive person by nature, but objectively, he treated me wellbetter after marriage than before. When my father's company faced a crisis two years ago, he didn't hesitate to invest heavily to save it.
Because of Sylvia? I knew Nick. He wasn't impulsive. Despite their recent closeness, I was sure nothing physical had happened. At least, not yet.
I truly didn't know what to do. I was trapped. I grew more unhappy, thinner. A pupa in a cocoon, seeing only a gray, hopeless world.
Tonight. Now.
Hearing Nick mention Sylvia's name, I felt a sudden urge. My parents taught me to be brave in expressing love. Shouldn't I be just as brave when the love was gone?
"Nick."
My voice was steady in the darkness.
"Maybe we should"
He cut me off with a sharp click of his tongue. "Alright, I don't want to explain anything more about Sylvia." He rolled over, his voice laced with impatience and restraint. "It's Mom's birthday this weekend. Pull yourself together. Don't show up looking like this and make her worry."
I gazed at the pale moonlight outside the window. A soft, silvery light, just like Sylvia's name.
I let out a long, quiet sigh.

4
I own a small art gallery. It was a twentieth birthday gift from my mother. When a girl is unhappy, she'd said, she needs a place she loves to go to.
In the last two years, I've been spending more and more time there.
On the day of my mother-in-law's birthday, I was a few minutes late to the restaurant because I was overseeing the delivery of a new collection of paintings.
The moment I walked into the private room, I saw Sylvia.
She was holding my mother-in-law's arm affectionately, chattering away in their hometown dialect. They were both laughing heartily. Nick was sitting on a nearby sofa, legs crossed, smiling as he sipped his tea.
When he saw me, his brow furrowed slightly. "Anna, I told you to be here early. What could possibly be more important today?"
I handed the gift to my mother-in-law and offered a brief explanation. She didn't take it, just glanced at me from under her heavy eyelids. "Her own mother-in-law isn't as important as some outsider. I guess she looks down on me for being from the countryside."
I didn't respond. I simply placed the gift in front of her and found a seat. This was how she always talked. For a long time after we got married, her passive-aggressive comments used to hurt me so much I'd cried to Nick about them several times. I didn't understand it. Even if we weren't family, she owed her life to the money I'd given her. Why was she so hostile?
Nick's response was always the same. "My mom had a hard life. For my sake, just try to be more understanding."
But a few months ago, I'd suddenly stopped caring about her attitude. Her barbs and glares bounced right off me. It was like watching a stranger, an old woman talking about someone else's family.
Sylvia smiled. "Anna, your mother-in-law insisted I come and join the fun today. I hope you don't mind."
I looked at her and smiled back. "Not at all. The more the merrier."
"And please don't be upset about all the times I've had to bother your husband lately," Sylvia added. "I'd hate for my problems to affect your marriage."
"Don't be silly. You're from the same hometown, you were classmates. It's the least he can do," I said, popping a Shine Muscat grape into my mouth. I was parched from unloading the paintings.
"Oh, and I should let you know, I couldn't get a cab earlier, so I had Nick pick me up. I told him we should swing by and get you too, but he said it was too far out of the way. He's still the same old Nick, so careless about things like that!" Sylvia said, beaming.
I ate another grape. "I have my own car, it's more convenient. If you ever need him in the future, just call him. You don't have to tell me."
A flicker of surprise crossed Sylvia's face. She paused, then gave a hesitant laugh. "Oh, I couldn't do that."
"It's really not a big deal."
As I finished speaking, I turned and saw Nick staring at me, his gaze deep and tinged with displeasure. I had no idea what I'd said wrong this time. But the confusion lasted only a second before I dismissed it.
Throughout the meal, the three of them conversed entirely in their dialect. I kept my head down, silently scrolling through my phone.
Suddenly, a glass of green juice appeared beside my hand.
Nick's voice was gentle. "I saw you enjoying the grapes, so I had the waiter juice some for you."
I was taken aback. "You juiced Shine Muscats? But I like eating them whole."
I looked up and saw Sylvia staring at the glass in front of me, her eyes gleaming.
"Do you like this?" I asked her, pushing the glass in her direction. "You can have it."
Nick abruptly stood up, his voice cold. "I'm going to the restroom."
Later, I stepped outside to take a call from an employee. As I returned to the room, I heard my mother-in-law's voice, loud and shrill in her dialect.
"Four years and she can't even produce a child. What's the use of keeping her?"
I froze, my hand on the door.
Yes, I could understand their dialect. When we first got married, I did many things for Nick. To improve my relationship with his mother, I had secretly learned their language.
Nick's voice was firm. "Mom, I've told you before, don't say things like that. Anna loves me very much, and she's relied on me even more since her mother passed away. She wouldn't be able to handle hearing you talk like that."
His mother sighed. "If it wasn't for my illness holding you back, you wouldn't have had to sacrifice your own happiness to be with her, and Sylvia wouldn't have married that scumbag. But it's not too late. Things are different now. Back then, her family had money. Now, you're the one supporting her. Just give her a generous settlement in the divorce!"
Sylvia's voice was soft. "Auntie, you shouldn't say things like that."
My eyes widened.
If Nick agrees
A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach.
The room was quiet for a moment. Then, Nick's voice, cold and resolute, rang out.
"I can't betray Anna! We're husband and wife. Mom, she helped you once. Don't ever say anything like this again!"
My feelings were a tangled mess. I didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

5
The final, explosive fight between Nick and me was, predictably, about Sylvia. And her dog.
I came home one day to find Sylvia sitting on my sofa, the golden retriever from her social media posts lying at her feet.
She smiled and explained, "Nick forgot a legal document at home, so I came back with him to get it."
My gaze fell on the crochet toy the dog was viciously tearing apart. It was a knitted rabbit my mother had made for me on her deathbed, forcing her weak hands to work.
"I've given you many things, but they were all bought with money. Before I go, I want to make something for you with my own hands. Every stitch is my love for you. When you see this little rabbit, it will be like seeing me."
After she died, I placed the rabbit on the TV stand in the living room so I could see it every day. I barely dared to touch it, afraid of getting it dirty or frayed.
Now, that rabbit was in the dog's mouth, being kicked and shredded. The yarn was broken, the cotton stuffing spilling out like snow.
A roar filled my ears. I couldn't speak. I moved stiffly, trying to pry the dog's jaws open. My mind was blank, filled only with the sound of Sylvia's shocked cries, the dog's frantic barking, and Nick's sharp yell as he rushed out of the study.
"Anna, are you crazy! It's just a cheap toy, what does it matter!"
Trembling, I held the tattered remains of the rabbit up to his face and shrieked, "A cheap toy? This is what you see? A cheap toy!?"
He seemed to suddenly remember where the rabbit came from. A rare look of panic crossed his face, and he reached for me, flustered. "I'm sorry, Anna! It's okay, we can fix it, I promise I'll get it fixed for you!"
I gritted my teeth and slapped him across the face.
"Get out!" I screamed. "Both of you, get out!"
His head snapped to the side from the force of the blow. Five red finger marks quickly bloomed on his pale skin, stark and shocking. He stared at me, frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Nick, are you okay?!" Sylvia rushed over, her hands hovering nervously over his face. She turned to me, her voice a furious hiss. "I'll pay you back! I'll buy you a hundred, a thousand of them, alright? My dog ruined your toy, why are you hitting him?! Do you have any idea how hard he works every day? Are you even his wife?!"
I felt as if I were trapped under a glass dome. The sounds of the outside world grew distant and muffled. The scene before me fractured into a series of still frames.
The dismembered rabbit.
Sylvia's red lips opening and closing.
Nick's incredulous eyes.
My vision went black, and I fell backward.
"Anna!"

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "296548" to read the entire book.