He Missed Our Anniversary for Her

On the fifth anniversary of our relationship, Ethan stood me up.

He didn't answer my calls and ignored my SnapChat messages.

I was starting to worry that something might have happened to him. Then a message popped up in our group chat.

It was from Melissa.

My car broke down on the highway, but luckily Ethan came to save me! And we had some amazing sushi too.

The photo showed a table full of premium sashimi, along with a hand peeling shrimp.

That hand was wearing the watch I'd spent half a month's salary on for Ethan's birthday last month.

I actually laughed out loud.

The rage burning in my chest instantly transformed into an indescribable disgust the moment I saw that photo.

I directly tagged Ethan in the group chat. "So this is what you meant by 'urgent meeting at the office and need to work overtime'?"

The group chat immediately went silent.

A full five minutes passed before Ethan slowly replied in the group. "Melissa's car broke down on the road. How unsafe is that for a girl alone at night? I happened to be nearby, so I went to help her out. Do you really need to be this passive-aggressive?"

I was truly speechless.

"Nearby? Your office is in the east district, and she's on the western ring highway. You call that nearby?" I called out his lie without mercy in the group chat. "Today is our fifth anniversary. Did you forget?"

Before Ethan could respond, Melissa jumped in first.

"Stella, I'm so sorry! I really didn't know today was your anniversary. It's all my fault for being such a tomboy and not paying attention to these details. Don't be mad at Etha. If you need to blame someone, blame me."

Her practiced performance as the innocent third party directly triggered Ethan's protective instincts.

Ethan replied instantly. "Why are you taking it out on her? Melissa just sees me as a good friend. When a friend's in trouble, shouldn't I help? Can you please stop being so petty about everything? You're so dramatic!"

Ethan's pack of friends in the group started chiming in too.

"Exactly, Stella. Ethan just went to help out. It's not that big a deal."

"Always going on about anniversaries. Ethan works so hard every day, how's he supposed to remember?"

"Melissa's just got that buddy personality. Don't overthink it, Stella."

Looking at all these messages defending him on my screen, I suddenly felt utterly ridiculous.

Five years of my life. I'd given up better job opportunities for him.

I'd moved with him from a cramped rental to our current small apartment, cooking and doing his laundry every day after work no matter how exhausted I was.

And this is what I got in return. Him peeling shrimp for another woman on our important anniversary, then calling me dramatic in front of everyone.

In the past, I would have cried from feeling so wronged, then frantically called him demanding an explanation, ultimately comforting myself through the cold war that followed.

But now, I just felt tired. Completely and utterly dead inside.

I called over the server and calmly paid the bill.

Then I typed in the group chat. "Fine. Go ahead and enjoy your time with your good buddy."

"Ethan, we're done."

After sending that message, I didn't wait for any response. I left the group chat immediately.

Back at the apartment we shared, I pulled out my suitcase and started packing.

Clothes, makeup, laptop. All my personal necessities went straight into the suitcase.

As for the sneakers and clothes I'd bought him, along with the matching couple mugs and bedding sets I'd personally picked out, I didn't even spare them a glance.

Just as I zipped up my suitcase, the front door clicked open.

Ethan walked in reeking of alcohol.

He saw the suitcase on the floor and his brow furrowed tightly, his tone full of impatience. "What are you making a scene about now? I just went to help Melissa with her car. Making a fool of yourself in the group chat wasn't enough? Now you're playing the running-away-from-home card too? Is this fun for you?"

I didn't even look up, just grabbed my bag and prepared to change my shoes. "Whether it's fun or not, you'll find out eventually. Move. You're blocking my way."

Not only did Ethan not move, he crossed his arms over his chest and let out a cold laugh.

"Where are you going? Who else do you have in this city to rely on besides me? You think you can afford to stay in a hotel?"

He was banking on my frugal habits, convinced he had me figured out, certain I was just bluffing.

I actually laughed. I looked up at this face that I once found so captivating, but now it just seemed unbearably sleazy and arrogant.

"Ethan, I'm telling you one last time. We're broken up. This apartment's lease ends at the end of the month. I've already paid my share of the rent. You figure out your own rent from now on. Don't come looking for me again."

With that, I shoved him aside forcefully and dragged my suitcase toward the elevator without looking back.

Ethan's furious cursing echoed behind me. "Fine! Once you leave, don't ever come back! I'll be a complete idiot if I beg you even once!"

I pressed the button for the first floor.

Sitting in the taxi to the hotel, my phone buzzed.

It was my best friend Jessica sending me several SnapChat screenshots.

Jessica: "Has Ethan lost his mind? Look at this!"

I opened the screenshots.

They were from the chat group with Ethan and his friends.

Jessica's boyfriend happened to be in that group and couldn't stand it anymore, so he screenshot everything and sent it to Jessica.

Ethan had sent a voice message in the group, which when converted to text read: "What a buzzkill. Her temper's getting worse and worse. She actually left with her suitcase."

His friend Marcus replied: "Is Stella serious this time? Ethan, aren't you going to chase after her?"

Ethan: "Chase after her? No way! She thinks twice about buying a cup of coffee because it's too expensive. How many days do you think she can afford to stay in a hotel? She's just acting spoiled."

Right after that, Ethan sent a large red envelope in the group.

"Within three days, she'll definitely come crawling back begging me to get back together. If she doesn't come back, I'll treat everyone to bottle service at the bar this weekend!"

The group immediately erupted with laughter and comments praising Ethan.

I saved the screenshots, then opened Ethan's SnapChat and blocked and deleted him in one smooth motion.

Then his phone number, Instagram, PayPal. Every possible way to contact me, all blocked.

After finishing all this, I tossed my phone into my bag and turned to the driver. "Sir, please drive faster."

Three days?

You'll never see me again in this lifetime.

I was finally free.

The next morning, I slept in until I naturally woke up in the hotel's king-size bed.

No Ethan's snoring, no sound of him smashing his keyboard while cursing at video games first thing in the morning. The feeling was absolutely amazing.

I quickly got up, washed up, and contacted a real estate agent to look at apartments.

At ten in the morning, I found a nicely furnished one-bedroom apartment just a ten-minute walk from my office. Although the rent was a bit steep, now that I didn't have to support that man-child Ethan, my salary was more than enough.

I signed the contract on the spot, paid, and got the keys.

Around noon, my best friend Jessica suddenly sent me several sixty-second voice messages, along with some screenshots.

"I'm so angry! Look at what I sent you!"

"That bastard Ethan? You've already moved out, and he still has the mood to game with that homewrecker?"

"I seriously can't believe this. Do they have any shame at all?"

I opened the screenshots.

The first one was a game stats screenshot.

Ethan and Melissa's duo queue record, from last night at eleven o'clock all the way until four in the morning today.

The second was a screenshot of Melissa's Instagram post from this morning.

The caption read: "Even though my car breaking down on the road was unlucky, having Ethan stay up all night helping me rank up turned out to be a blessing in disguise. He's so amazing!"

Below it was Ethan's comment: "Let's continue tonight."

I actually laughed.

I thought Ethan would at least have lost some sleep last night after making that bet in his chat group while so worked up.

Turns out he turned right around and contentedly helped his good buddy rank up in games.

Jessica was so angry she called me directly. "I want to reach through the internet and slap both of them! Does Ethan even know you two broke up?"

I put her on speakerphone. "Of course he knows. But he thinks I'm playing hard to get. He bet Marcus and the others that I'd definitely come back begging him within three days."

"Disgusting!" Jessica cursed on the other end. "How inflated is his ego? Does he think he's made of diamonds or something? So where are you now? You're not homeless, are you?"

"Don't worry, I've already rented an apartment." I said calmly. "Ethan's trash. Whoever wants to pick him up can have him. I was just blind before."

"Exactly! Good riddance to bad rubbish! The next one will be better!" Jessica sighed with relief. "But what if he never comes looking for you?"

I snorted coldly. "It'd be best if he didn't. I'm just afraid he'll shamelessly try to cling to me later. I've already blocked him everywhere. You don't need to send me anything about his drama anymore."

After hanging up, I looked at my freshly decorated room, my mood soaring.

That evening after work, I ordered myself a super large portion of lobster that I normally wouldn't splurge on.

No need to cook for Ethan, no need to listen to him complain that the food was too salty or too bland, no need to wash his socks for him.

This life of not having to be a free maid in a relationship felt absolutely liberating, every pore in my body celebrating.

Over the next two weeks, I threw all my energy into work.

Not only did I complete my monthly tasks ahead of schedule, but the director publicly praised me at the morning meeting.

Life without a scumbag boyfriend really did make even the air smell sweeter.

Friday evening, just before the end of the workday, it suddenly started pouring rain outside with howling winds.

I pulled out my phone to call a rideshare, but there were over 300 people in queue. No way I could get one.

A few coworkers who were also stuck at the office were complaining nearby.

"This rain is crazy. I should've brought an umbrella this morning."

"My boyfriend said he's coming to pick me up. I'm heading to the parking garage!"

Watching my coworker happily get into her boyfriend's car, I stood there as a memory suddenly flashed through my mind unbidden.

It was also a rainy day last year.

I'd gotten off work without an umbrella and was stuck at the subway station, so I called Ethan hopefully. "The rain's too heavy and I can't get home. Can you drive over and pick me up?"

But Ethan responded extremely impatiently on the other end. "I'm in the middle of ranked! Can't you just get a taxi or take the subway home? Can you be a little more independent and stop always relying on me?"

Then he hung up directly.

That day, I steeled myself and ran home through the pouring rain, getting completely soaked.

That same night, I developed a 102-degree fever.

But Ethan didn't even pour me a glass of water. He actually complained that my coughing was keeping him awake.

Looking back now, I was truly at a loss for words.

What kind of spell was I under to waste five whole years on such a selfish man?

Just as I was gritting my teeth, preparing to hold my bag over my head and just run through the rain to the subway, a low, gentle voice suddenly came from behind me.

"No umbrella?"

I turned around.

It was Adrian Knight.

The representative of our company's newest major investor, who'd been at our office these past few days doing project due diligence.

He was holding a black long-handled umbrella, his entire presence radiating a mature, steady aura.

I froze for a moment, then quickly greeted him. "Mr. Knight, yeah, I didn't bring an umbrella. Can't get a ride, so I'm planning to run to the subway station."

Adrian frowned slightly, glancing at the torrential rain outside. "Where are you headed? I'll have my driver drop you off on the way."

"No, no, I couldn't impose on you like that." I instinctively tried to refuse.

But he didn't give me a chance to refuse.

"Let's go."

He opened the large black umbrella, tilting it significantly toward my side without hesitation, sheltering me completely underneath.

His shoulder was half-exposed to the rain.

A black Maybach was parked steadily at the bottom of the steps.

The driver quickly got out to open the door.

Adrian let me get in first, then folded the umbrella and got into the back seat himself.

Once inside, the driver immediately handed over a clean, dry towel.

Adrian took the towel and passed it to me naturally. "Dry your hair so you don't catch cold."

Then he said to the driver, "Turn up the back seat temperature by two degrees and adjust the vents away from her."

I held the towel, feeling the warm air in the car and the faint woody scent of the air freshener, completely stunned.

"Thank you, Mr. Knight."

"After work hours, no need to call me Mr. Knight. Just call me Adrian." Adrian turned to look at me, his gaze calm without any trace of superiority.

"It's not safe for a young woman to be caught in the rain alone. Next time you encounter this situation, don't tough it out."

Hearing these simple words, an indescribable bitterness and relief welled up in my heart.

They were both men, but the difference was bigger than between humans and dogs.

Ethan wouldn't even come downstairs to pick me up, while Adrian, a boss of such high standing, could attend to details so thoughtfully.

I truly felt what it meant to be respected.

That night, I was suddenly jolted awake by severe cramping pain.

The pain was so intense I was drenched in cold sweat, crawling and tumbling my way to the toilet where I vomited until I felt like I was dying.

Acute gastroenteritis had flared up.

Leaning against the cold bathroom tiles, completely drained, I fumbled for my phone wanting to call 911.

But my hand slipped and I accidentally pressed a number in my recent calls.

The phone was answered almost immediately.

"Hello?"

A deep, slightly nasal male voice came through. It was Adrian Knight.

I froze, only then realizing I'd accidentally called him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Knight, I... I dialed the wrong number..." My voice was trembling from the pain, even my breathing was uneven.

The other end went silent for a second, then Adrian's voice turned extremely serious. "What's wrong? Your voice sounds off."

"It's nothing... just a bit of stomach pain. I called the wrong number..." I tried to hang up.

"Send me your address." Adrian didn't listen to my excuses, his tone brooking no argument. "Right now!"

"Really, it's not necessary..."

"Send your address, or I'll look it up in your employee file directly."

I was in too much pain to argue with him, and that near-death feeling was too strong, so I could only weakly give him my apartment complex name and unit number.

Less than twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang.

I forced myself through the pain to crawl to the door.

The moment I cracked the door open, Adrian strode in.

He was wearing only a slightly disheveled shirt, his hair not as meticulously styled as usual.

Seeing me curled up on the floor, he frowned and without a word, scooped me up horizontally.

"We're going to the hospital."

He carried me out, his steps quick but steady.

In that moment, leaning against his broad, warm chest, I actually felt like crying.

Back when I was with Ethan, I'd had gastroenteritis once too.

It was two in the morning. I was rolling around in bed from the pain, pushing Ethan who was sleeping like a log beside me, begging him to take me to the hospital.

But he groggily turned over, shaking off my hand and yelling at me impatiently. "What are you freaking out about in the middle of the night? You're so high-maintenance! Just take some stomach medicine. Stop making a fuss. I have an early basketball game tomorrow!"

That night, I forced myself to endure until dawn, then went to the hospital alone for an IV.

And now, Adrian Knight, a boss who had no relation to me whatsoever, was speeding through the night to take me to the emergency room.

At the hospital, he handled registration, payment, and getting medication, running around without letting me take a single extra step.

By the time I was hooked up to an IV and lying on a bed in the emergency observation room, the sky was already beginning to lighten.

Adrian sat by the hospital bed. Seeing my complexion improve slightly, he finally relaxed.

"What did you eat last night?" he asked.

"Well... I worked late and skipped dinner. I got hungry at night, so I ordered some super spicy chicken wings..." I said guiltily in a small voice.

Adrian looked at me and sighed, pulling out a thermos from nearby.

"The doctor said you can only eat liquid foods for the next few days. This is oatmeal porridge. Eat some to fill your stomach."

As he spoke, he opened the lid, and a light, pleasant rice fragrance wafted out.

He blew on a spoonful to cool it, then brought it to my lips.

I was so surprised I tried to take it from him. "Mr. Knight, I can do it myself!"

He moved his hand away, his tone gentle but firm. "You still have an IV in your hand. Don't move around."

I mechanically opened my mouth and swallowed that spoonful of porridge.

My stomach felt warm, and my heart felt sour and full at the same time.

This feeling of being carefully cared for and cherished. It had been so, so long.

It turned out being truly cared about felt this good.