I was just... so tired.

From the room, Ava’s delicate voice floated toward me. "Jason, I’m a bit hungry..."

Jason’s reply was gentle. "What do you want to eat? I’ll make it for you."

I couldn’t take it anymore.

Grabbing my bag, I stormed out of the door, the night air cooled against my face, but it couldn’t shake the chill in my heart.

...

Memories flooded my mind, crashing over me like a tidal wave. The sweet past now felt like sharp knives, stabbing me repeatedly in the chest.

Jason had always struggled with his stomach. Because he couldn’t cook, I took it upon myself to care for him—making fresh meals for him three times a day. His stomach couldn’t handle spicy food, so I gave it up, even though I loved chili.

He liked fish, so I bought the freshest catch every day, even though I was allergic to the smell.

I treated him like a mother would, making sure every little detail was perfect. But now, looking back, I see how foolish I was.

He could cook. He knew how.

But he pretended to be helpless, using me like a free maid, taking my care for granted.

I opened our chat history—seven years’ worth of messages.

They used to sparkle with the happiness and sweetness of our love. But now, all they did was leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

I scrolled to a conversation from a month ago.

[Emma, I’m working overtime tonight. Can’t have dinner with you.]

[Emma, I’ve got a client tonight. Can’t go to the movies.]

[Emma, I’m busy tonight...]

A string of "can’ts," each one landing like a slap to my face, harsh and unrelenting.

I kept scrolling, backtracking to two months ago.

[Jason, you’ve been working overtime a lot lately. You need to take care of yourself.]

[I know, Emma. You’re so good.]

[Don’t overwork yourself. Come back early.]

[Okay, I will.]

I continued scrolling—three months ago, four months ago.

The contrast between my care and his indifference was so stark it almost hurt. And then, it hit me: six months ago, Jason had started pulling away.

He’d been working late, and going on business trips more often. Back then, I was naïve enough to think it was all for us—that he was working hard for our future. I understood, I sympathized.

But little did I know, all that 'hard work' was just him sneaking around with Ava.

I kept scrolling, reaching messages from a year ago.

[Jason, I saw Ava today... she seems to have feelings for you...]

[Don’t overthink it. She’s just a friend.]

[But...]

[Emma, trust me.]