On Our 8th Anniversary, He Went to His Mistress

On the night of our eighth anniversary, my boyfriend Fernando suddenly went off the grid when he was supposed to be with me.

I called him countless times. No one answered.

The next morning, just as I was about to call the police, Fernando called back:

Last night my coworker Ellis's mother-in-law suddenly passed away. I went to help out. Left my phone in the car, didn't notice.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but something felt off.

After hanging up, I sent Ellis a message:

"I heard your mother-in-law passed away. My condolences. Is there anything I can help with?"

Three minutes later, Ellis called:

"Hello, Juliet, did you send that to the wrong person? My mother-in-law is alive and well!"

I quickly apologized to Ellis.

After the call ended, my heart felt a sharp pain.

This man who had loved me for eight years had lied to me.

I opened my chat history with Fernando.

The last message was from me, at 4:12 AM:

[Where are you? I'm really worried about you.]

Scrolling up, there was yesterday's conversation.

When I got home, I'd sent him a photo of the cinnamon cookies my mom made for me.

He replied with a "so jealous" emoji.

Below that was a video call from him. He was curled up on the couch, the camera shaking around.

Mom had called me to help with something, interrupting the video call. After I hung up, he sent a message.

He said he missed me. He said this Christmas we'd go back together and ask my mom for permission to marry me.

Eight years ago today, he confessed his feelings to me.

He said that if he ever deceived me in this lifetime, he'd be hit by a car the moment he stepped outside.

Fernando valued his life.

Not long after we got together, he spiked a fever of 102 degrees.

When the doctor went to draw blood, he held me and cried secretly.

He said he'd looked it up online and was afraid he might have leukemia.

Choking up, he said he hadn't lived enough yet, but he needed to settle his affairs.

He said his $80,000 in savings should be splithalf to his parents, half to me.

He said if he was diagnosed, I shouldn't wait for him.

I stroked his head, wiping away his tears, laughing at him for acting like a child.

But I also thought to myself that someone so afraid of death who dared to make such a vow would surely keep his word.

But we hadn't even reached a lifetime yetnowhere near itand he'd already lied to me.

Fernando was extremely superstitious. For him to risk his life fabricating this lie, that person must be very important.

My phone suddenly vibrated. I hesitated for a moment but still answered.

Let me hear it. Just in case.

"You sent Ellis a message?!"

Fernando's voice was low but couldn't contain his anger.

"Yeah."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You said her mother-in-law died, so I went to comfort her. Is there a problem?"

There was two seconds of silence on the other end.

"Juliet, you're checking up on me."

"I'm not."

"Not? Then why did you send Ellis a message?"

Fernando's voice suddenly rose.

"No one in Ellis's family died at all. I was too tired and said the wrong thing. You rushing to send that messageif word gets out, how am I supposed to face people at the company?!"

I gripped my phone, my fingers growing cold.

Clearly he was the one who lied, but every sentence seemed to tell me I was the one in the wrong.

A heavy sigh came from Fernando's end.

His voice suddenly softened.

"Juliet, I know you're worried about me, but what you did really embarrassed me.

Ellis is my supervisor. What will she think of me after this? Will she still think of me when opportunities come up?"

"Juliet, we've been together eight years. Do you really not trust me?"

My nose suddenly stung.

Eight years. Fernando knew exactly how to make me feel guilty.

"Alright, Juliet, I got too emotional. I'm sorry."

Probably because I hadn't spoken for so long, Fernando's tone completely softened.

"The family emergency was Enzo from Ellis's office. You added Enzo on Twitter at the last company dinner. If you don't believe me, go ask."

After hanging up, I hesitated for a long time but finally found Enzo's Twitter.

I clicked in and sent "Enzo."

But what I received was a notification that I'd been blocked.

Blocked.

I could still see Enzo's Twitter updates this morning.

Fernando was closest to Enzo at the company.

He told me to verify it, and Enzo blocked me.

After the call ended, Fernando sent no more messages.

For our eighth anniversary, we'd originally planned to go to Disneyland together.

But he said he had to work overtime.

He said we were close to saving enough for a house down payment, and he wanted to work overtime to earn more money.

So these past days, when Fernando's messages were few, I never thought much of it.

But now...

After dinner, I posted a Twitter update with a photo of the pasta my mom made.

[The holiday is almost over. I'll miss my mom's cooking.]

I set it so only Fernando could see it.

After posting, I began to wait.

One hour, two hours, three hours, four hoursno response.

Eight years. Fernando had liked every single one of my Twitter posts.

I once asked him, you're so busy with work, how can you always notice my Twitter posts right away?

He stroked my hair and smiled. Because I care, I pay attention all the time.

My fingertips rubbed against my palm. My finger accidentally swept across my phone screen.

The page switched to Fernando's Instagram.

Just one minute ago, he'd updated his story.

The photo was of the evening sky, with a location tag near our house at that little park.

The caption read: [Busy day done. Finally can catch my breath.]

There was only one comment:

[You worked hard today. Next time, my treat~]

Fernando replied almost instantly:

[It's a deal. No backing out.]

I clicked on the profile of the person who replied to him.

It was a young woman with chestnut-colored hair.

At Fernando's last company dinner, she wasn't there.

At 1:45 AM, Fernando liked my Twitter post.

Then he sent me messages, still in an exhausted tone:

"Juliet, I'm literally dying of exhaustion. Didn't expect overtime on our eighth anniversary would be this busy."

"At least in two more days you'll be back. Remember to send me your train ticket. I'll pick you up."

"You must be asleep, right?"

"Good night. I miss you so much."

I stared at these sentences from Fernando for a long time. Then I changed my train ticket.

Mom didn't expect me to come back two days early.

All morning she hurriedly stuffed things into my bag.

"Juliet, when you get back, treat Fernando well. That boy came from nothing. It wasn't easy for him to get where he is today."

"Tell him for me, thank him for the money transfer, but I can't accept it."

My hands stopped packing.

"When did he send you money?"

"Just now. Didn't he tell you?"

"When exactly?"

Mom put her phone in my hand.

"See for yourself."

I opened Mom's phone. It was at 7 AM.

He'd transferred $2,000 to Mom and sent a message:

[Auntie, I have to work overtime this time and couldn't go back with Juliet to see you. Please accept this money. This Christmas I'll definitely go back with Juliet and call you Mom.]

Thinking about how I hadn't replied to Fernando's messages from last night until now,

my hands suddenly went weak.

Fernando really knew how to manipulate my emotions.

I forced myself to calm down, stuffed the phone back to Mom, and smiled.

"Not taking it is right. After all, who knows what will happen in the future."

"Don't talk nonsense!"

Mom smiled and touched my face.

"Your dad said yesterday, boys as sincere as Fernando are hard to find these days. You need to treasure him."

"I know, I know."

I cut off Mom's nagging.

"By the way, don't tell Fernando about me coming back. I want to surprise him."

Mom laughed.

"Alright, I know."

At 3 PM, I arrived at the apartment Fernando and I rented.

Fernando wasn't home.

After entering, I put down my suitcase and looked around. Everything seemed normal.

I immediately checked the home surveillance footage.

But three days agothe night I leftthe surveillance had been turned off.

I went to the kitchen. It looked the same as when I left.

But in the trash can lay a receipt from the supermarket. From yesterday.

It was mostly daily necessities, but at the end were three boxes of condoms.

The brand Fernando had begged me to try multiple times.

I thought the flavored ones were weird and never agreed.

I clutched the receipt and headed straight to the bedroom, pulling open the nightstand drawer.

The condoms Fernando and I regularly used were still there.

Of those three new boxes, only one remained.

I opened the closet. In the most accessible spot, Fernando's pajamas were neatly folded.

Fernando never folded clothes, especially not pajamas.

Every time, I followed behind him organizing things.

But those pajamasI didn't fold them.

I yanked the folded pajamas out of the closet.

I immediately saw the chestnut-colored long hair on the pajamas.

With trembling hands, I took out my phone.

I found Fernando's Instagram, clicked on the profile of the girl who replied to him.

I stared at her chestnut-colored long hair, frozen in place.

The colorthe same. The lengththe same.

I suddenly pulled back the pillows on the bed.

Under my pillow were some overlooked, unprocessed chestnut-colored long hairs.

I stumbled into the bathroom.

Near the shower drain, I saw more of that chestnut-colored hair.

My stomach suddenly began to convulse. I leaned over the toilet and dry heaved.

I sat limply on the floor.

My fingers accidentally scrolled through that girl's profile.

Three years ago, she posted a photo of intertwined fingers.

The caption:

[Tonight, I bloom for you.]

I recognized it immediatelythat hand crumpling the bedsheets was Fernando's.

Three years ago.

I scrolled down frantically.

Finally, four years ago, in a large group photo from Fernando's company, I saw that girl.

She was his coworker.

But in all these years, I'd never seen her at any of Fernando's company dinners.

For him, she was willing to hide herself like this.

I forced down the nausea churning in my stomach and sent Fernando a message:

[I'm back. I know everything.]

An hour later, hurried footsteps came from outside, along with a tearful female voice:

"Fernando, it's my fault. Let me in. I'll explain to her."

"No!" Fernando deliberately lowered his voice,

but you could still hear the dominance and protectiveness in his words.

The Fernando outside the door seemed like a different person from the one I knew.

When he was with me, he was gentle and easygoing.

But the current him was decisive, firm yet tender.

I couldn't control myselfI got up and walked toward the door.

I really wanted to see the Fernando outside that door, and that chestnut-haired girl.

I gripped the door handle. The people outside were still arguing.

I yanked hard! The door opened.

That chestnut-haired girl was curled up in Fernando's arms, crying.

Fernando's hand kept stroking her long hair, his eyes full of heartache.

Watching Fernando's hand linger on that chestnut-colored hair,

in an instant, the hairs from under the pillow and from the bathroom seemed to extend out and wrap tightly around me.

The people outside clearly saw me too.

Fernando abruptly released his hold on the girl.

The girl wiped her tears and stepped forward.

"I'm sorry, Juliet. This is all my fault."

"Slap!"

I couldn't hold back. I raised my arm and slapped the girl across the face.

As my hand swung toward Fernando,

he suddenly rushed forward from behind and shoved me away hard, fiercely protecting that rabbit-like girl behind him.

"Juliet, what are you doing?!"

Resentment and fury surged in Fernando's eyes.

But my gaze fell on the girl's ring finger.

On her ring finger was a large engagement diamond ring.

It was the exact model Fernando bought when he proposed to me three months ago.

My nails dug hard into my palm.

I turned abruptly and rushed toward the bedroom, yanking open the left drawer of the vanity.

I opened the ring box. The ring was gone.

I ran out like a madwoman and grabbed the girl's wrist.

I forcibly removed the ring from her finger.

Under the dim hallway light, I looked at it. The engraving on the ring's band wasn't "Juliet."

That ring was this year's limited edition.

When Fernando and I went to buy it, it was the last one.

I shoved the ring in Fernando's face.

"Is this ring mine? Or did you buy two from the start?!"

"I begged Fernando to buy it!"

The girl stepped in front of Fernando first.

"Juliet, I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I know I'm not worthy of Fernando. I just wanted to secretly walk part of the road with him."

I looked past the girl's head, staring hard at Fernando.

"So you bought two from the beginning?!"

No wonder the sales associate who sold the ring wouldn't let us sign that one-of-a-kind true love agreement.

No wonder on the day we bought the ring, he said he forgot his ID card and used his father's to purchase it.

No wonder that day the sales associate saw him and said, "You're here again."

So Fernando took her to buy it first.

So that true love agreementhe signed it with her first.

These past days, that girl came to the house, saw the identical ring in the drawer, and must have gotten angry.

So Fernando threw mine away.

Perhaps he also promised her daily that he'd marry her soon.

Perhaps this very morning, he spoke to her mother the same way he spoke to mine.

My heart felt like it was stuffed with a soaked toweldull, painfully suffocating.

"Juliet, let me explain."

"Juliet!"

Before Fernando could finish speaking, the girl suddenly dropped to her knees at my feet with a thud.

"I'm sorry. I promise I'll break things off with Fernando immediately!"

"But I'm begging you, can you please give me back the ring?"

I shifted my gaze back to the ring in my hand, glanced at the girl, pulled a cold smile, and extended my hand out the window.

"Don't."

The girl suddenly sprang up and lunged at me.

I was originally standing near the staircase. She charged at me,

and her whole body slammed into mine. We rolled down the stairs together.

The violent collision tore open the girl's dress.

I looked at the special petal-shaped scar on the girl's shoulder and froze.

The first year Fernando and I were together,

he told me his father had an affair when he was younger and brought a woman home.

That woman had a little girl with her. The little girl had a petal-shaped scar on her shoulder.

Because of that woman, his mother committed suicide.

After his mother died, his father kicked that woman and child out of the house. I heard that woman had a miserable life afterward.

I suddenly looked at Fernando. "Fernando, so it's her."