I’ve been in love with Max Carter for six years.
He gave me a ring and said we’d meet his parents this weekend.
"Here, take this and go get a haircut. My mom likes girls with short hair."
That weekend, I wore the simple ring he gave me and waited all day at the salon, but Max never showed up.
Later, I checked my phone and saw a post from his cycling partner.
[Someone ditched meeting his parents just to make my winter cycling dream come true. Guess who’s getting punished tonight!]
Normally, I’d be furious and call him a dozen times to demand answers.
But this time, I was too exhausted.
——
It was a cold December day, the kind where the rain feels like ice and I was standing outside a closed salon, waiting for Max.
Today was supposed to be the day I finally met his parents.
Last night, Max had told me his mom liked short-haired girls, so I reluctantly went to the address he gave me and cut off the long hair I had grown out for three years.
He said he’d go buy a gift and pick me up before lunch.
I waited.
And waited.
Six hours went by and I called him eight times. He didn’t answer once.
My phone was down to 1% battery when I saw a post from his cycling friend, Jane. It was a selfie of her and Max, all smiles, making hand signs together.
[Someone ditched meeting his parents just to make my winter cycling dream come true. Guess who’s getting punished tonight!]
Ditched the meeting?
Max said he’d postpone meeting his parents, but did he even bother telling me?
I cut off my hair to please him, to impress his parents. But he abandoned me, on what was supposed to be an important day.
Then my phone buzzed.
It was Max, probably remembering me at last.
"Where are you?" he said casually, "Oh, forgot about meeting the parents, right? Perfect timing—Jane and I are cycling at Quentin Lake. We’ll meet them some other day."
There was no apology, no remorse—just a statement, as if he were merely informing me of a change in plans.
Quentin Lake, of course.
How could Max leave Jane for me?
Max and I had been college sweethearts, dating on and off for six years. We were so close to marriage, yet here I was, abandoned again, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on me.
Recently, Max had become obsessed with cycling and joined an online cycling community. That’s where he met Jane, a yoga instructor. Ever since he met her, Max seemed to forget about me altogether.
He’d spend hours chatting with her in the group but couldn’t be bothered to reply to my texts. He told me I was "too much" and that my concerns were pointless.
But he remembered every detail about Jane. He knew when her time of the month was and would remind her to take it easy, even bringing her soup.
Meanwhile, he forgot mine. And when I cried from the pain, all he could say was, "Women are so dramatic."
So today, he’d skipped meeting his parents for Jane’s winter cycling dream, leaving me behind once again.
I stood in the freezing rain, staring at my phone while cheerful music played on Max’s end of the line.
Suddenly, Max seemed so... boring.
"Max," I said quietly, "did you forget I’ve been waiting for you all day at the barber shop?"
"I’ve waited for you so many times before. I’m not even mad this time—just tired."
Max didn’t care. He scoffed, sounding annoyed, "What’s the big deal? I’ve waited for you before too. We’re even now. This was just an accident—I’ll take you to meet them next time."
Next time.
I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.
It’s true, Max had waited for me before. Once, after months of begging him to take me cycling, he finally agreed. I was so excited I jumped for joy and ordered a cute cycling outfit online.
But on the day of the ride, I stopped for ten minutes to grab breakfast and he left without me.
There was always a "next time" with Max.
I wanted to go to Disneyland. He said next time.
I wanted to try a popular escape room game. He said it was too expensive, so we’d do it next time.
I craved crab roe buns from the north side of town. He said we’d get them next time we passed by.
I was always waiting.
And Max was always pushing me aside.
Now, standing in the rain, miles from home, with no umbrella or taxi in sight, I made up my mind.
"Max," I said softly, "let’s break up."
Chapter 2I finished the sentence calmly.
Max, on the other end of the line, wasn’t really listening. He was busy talking to Jane about some movie character. Another conversation going nowhere.
Just as I was about to hang up, I heard a light “tsk” in my ear. Max had heard me after all, but he didn’t care.
“Again? When have you ever really broken up with me? In the end, you’re the one crying and begging,” he said mockingly, like a cold needle straight to my heart.
But this time, it didn’t hurt.
I wanted to tell him I was serious this time, but before I could speak, Jane’s sweet, playful voice chimed in from his side:
“Sorry, Sadie, for making you miss meeting Max’s parents today! I really wanted to come to Quentin Lake, so he brought me instead…”
Beep.
My phone died. Out of battery.
I couldn’t even defend myself.
The clock behind me ticked away, marking the hours. I’d been waiting from morning until night—eight hours. Max would never think my phone had died. He’d assume I was just mad at him.
It was raining hard. I curled up in the corner, shivering, with my legs numb and swollen from squatting for so long.
Three hours later, the rain finally stopped.
I stood up and began walking toward the main road. My body shook with every step. It was freezing. I’d dressed lightly, hoping to look good for meeting Max’s parents, but now the thin autumn coat was no match for the damp night air. The cold wind bit at me, my teeth chattered and my vision started to fade.
The next thing I knew, I had fainted in the middle of the street.
When I woke up, I was in a hospital. A passing taxi driver had found me and brought me in.
He didn’t say much, just handed me a cup of warm water.
“Had a fight with your boyfriend, huh? No matter how bad it gets, he shouldn’t leave you stranded in the road like that. It’s dangerous!”
He wasn’t wrong. He’d figured it out. Max had left me behind.
It took me six years to realize it.
I smiled, holding the warm water. “It won’t happen again. Thank you.”
The driver nodded and waved it off like it was no big deal. Then, as if remembering something, he handed me my fully charged phone and held up two fingers.
“Your ‘Baby’ called. It rang for about two seconds. I didn’t answer.”
Two seconds.
Max really couldn’t be bothered.
I smiled at the driver. “It’s fine, thank you.”
“He’s already dead to me.”
The driver seemed to understand and didn’t push any further.
There was a message from Max waiting for me on DayChat.
[Come on, what’s the big deal? It’s just meeting my parents. We’ve been together for so long. Just wait a little longer, I’ll take you next time.]
I didn’t bother replying. I blocked him and deleted his number.
After the IV drip and paying the hospital bill, the driver kindly offered to take me home. Before I got out, I quietly left 30 dollars on the back seat.
“Thanks for everything.”
The driver waved it off again. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
I nodded, forcing a smile. “I will.”
When I got home, I went straight to the attic and dug out an old suitcase. In that big house, there was barely anything that belonged to me.
Max came from a poor family. His biggest dream was to pass the civil service exam in Bremont. After we graduated, he begged me to give up the teaching job I’d landed and come to Bremont with him so he could focus on the exam.
I couldn’t say no to him and I didn’t want to break up. So, I took all my savings and moved to Bremont to support him.
Max didn’t let himself down. He passed the civil service exam the very next year.
But he let me down. He let down this one-sided love I had chased after for miles.
People always say online that women shouldn’t spend their money on men or cross mountains and rivers for someone. That person won’t remember, won’t be touched.
You’ll be the only one feeling anything.
How true those words turned out to be.
It took me 20 minutes to pack, filling just half the suitcase. There wasn’t much left in that room that was mine.
Chapter 3Just as I was about to leave, Max suddenly came back. He was supporting a pale-looking Jane and anxiously shouted at me, “You’re already home, so hurry up and make some soup for Jane! She’s having terrible cramps!”
I held onto my suitcase, unfazed. I didn’t say a word. I just walked past him and headed for the door.
Max got furious. He quickly rushed over, grabbed my suitcase and smashed it to pieces.
“I said she’s got cramps! I told you to make the tea! Didn’t you hear me? Why are you acting like this? Who are you trying to impress?”
He was mad at me. Over his cycling buddy.
It was almost laughable. He was never like this before.
Back when I was helping him out, Max only had eyes for me. He’d call me “Baby,” tell me I was working too hard and say how much he appreciated me. He even promised to buy me a big house once he passed his civil service exam. That promise was just as hollow as it sounds now.
I looked down at the broken suitcase and the mess all over the floor.
Without thinking, I slapped him—hard.
“Give me a hundred bucks,” I said.
I held out my hand. “Didn’t you want that soup for Jane? Give me a thousand. It’s going to be expensive.”
I wasn’t joking. Max probably didn’t realize it, but I come from money. I had left my family and moved to Bremont for him, breaking ties with everyone I knew.
A cliché story, I know. But a painful one, too.
Max scoffed, pulled out his phone and started tapping on the screen.
That’s when I remembered. I took out my phone and held it up to him.
“Sorry, you’ll have to scan to pay. Your side chick deleted my contact on DayChat.”
Max’s eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance, but he scanned the code.
“If you wanted money, you could’ve just asked. No need to play games,” he sneered.
When the payment went through, I didn’t respond. I turned around, went into the kitchen and started making the soup. Max stood there watching me, probably worried I might poison Jane.
As if I would.
I’m generous. I even added two extra teaspoons of salt.
Then, out of nowhere, Max said, “Sadie Knight.”
I paused, looking up from the soup. What he said next caught me completely off guard.
“Let’s get married. Both of our parents can meet this weekend.”
I didn’t even flinch as I stirred the soup. Instead, I gave him a strange look.
“Did you lose a game of truth or dare?” I asked. I wasn’t even trying to be sarcastic.
It wasn’t the first time Max had “proposed.” Just a few months ago, he took me up some desolate mountain and at the top, he knelt down with a bunch of wild grass in his hand and yelled, “Sadie, let’s get married!”
It was a scorching hot day and the air felt thick with the heat and the crowd. I won’t lie—my heart skipped a beat. My pulse quickened and I said “yes” without thinking.
But then Jane started laughing. The whole group went silent, but her laughter echoed around us. It was unnerving.
I thought she was losing it.
But then Max started laughing, too.
After Jane finally stopped, clutching her stomach, she looked at me and said, “Don’t feel bad, Sadie. Max was just joking. We lost a game of truth or dare last night!”