The Unloved One

1 The day after my engagement, I stumbled upon a forum post online: [What's the psychology behind people who knowingly become the other woman?] The top comment immediately hit with that "profound truth": [FYI, the unloved one is the side chick!] [Even though my boyfriend already has a fiancée, I don't consider myself to be interfering in their relationship.] [He gives me his time, money, and love. Every night he expends his energy on me, while his fiancée, who knows how long it's been since she's been 'satisfied'~] Someone below asked how she could be so sure they weren't. This ID, "Stargazing Bunny," immediately replied: [I put my exclusive temporary tattoo on that part of him—it's a bunny, you know~ Every time he comes to me, I check. If it's not there, I don't let him touch me. He guards it so carefully!] [After all, I’m young and fresh, and his fiancée is old and withered. Only a fool wouldn’t know who to choose.] [Yesterday was his fiancée's 28th birthday, and he didn't even go back to spend it with her. He just sent a "Happy Birthday" at midnight, oh, and he sent it while we were "exercising" in my bed. He even asked if it was exciting, so annoying~] My fingers froze. Yesterday was my 28th birthday. … Almost instantly, I knew. Harrison Thorne was cheating. I scrolled down further. Stargazing Bunny's profile had other posts. The previous one, posted three days ago: [Today I casually mentioned wanting to try that private kitchen on the West Side, and Mr. T drove me there at noon. It took over three hours round trip, just for me to have a meal. I fell asleep on the way back, and he let me rest my head on his arm the whole time.] [His fiancée called to ask if he was coming home for dinner, and he said he was tied up at work. After hanging up, he winked at me and said, "Now, you are my work"~] The accompanying photo was of a steering wheel. Outside the window was that familiar old street on the West Side. No wonder that day, Harrison, who said he had a meeting. When he returned, he brought me the signature dessert from that West Side private kitchen. He said a colleague was passing by while on a project and knew I liked sweets, so he specifically had them bring me a portion. Even with his busy schedule, Harrison still thought of me. That feeling of being cherished moved me deeply. Now, it just made me sick to my stomach. Scrolling further back. Stargazing Bunny had posted a fashion dilemma: [Help me choose, ladies. Which outfit should I wear to the movies with Mr. T tomorrow? He usually wears business casual, and I don't want to be too formal or too casual. I'm so torn.] The photo showed two small dresses spread out on a bed. I bet she chose the pale yellow floral dress. That night, Harrison, who had never commented on my outfits before, uncharacteristically asked me why I didn't wear floral dresses. Because I was too busy with work, I usually just wore whatever was most convenient. Afraid I'd misunderstand, Harrison immediately hugged me and explained: "Of course, my wife looks good in anything. I was just thinking that when I have some free time, I'll take you on a beach vacation. You've always wanted to go to the Maldives, right?" "Dresses look even more beautiful on the beach, especially bright colors like pale yellow, they give off such a sunny vibe..." "And with some curled hair, it would make for great photos!" Turns out he wasn't describing an outfit; he was describing a person. I took a deep breath, suppressing the dull, throbbing pain in my heart. Last month, Stargazing Bunny posted two movie ticket stubs. [The most classic romance movie, of course, has to be watched with the one you love.] The showing time was 5:20 PM. That day was our five-year anniversary, Harrison’s and mine. He was very earnest when he first pursued me. He'd bring me an umbrella when it rained, and wait downstairs when I interned late into the night. When I couldn't write my thesis, he'd help me outline it, patiently, again and again. My roommate said, "Guys like this are rare nowadays, you have to hold onto him." I did hold onto him. For five years, Harrison was always good to me. He remembered my period, what I liked and disliked to eat, and all our important dates. He truly hadn't forgotten. But he had broken his promise. 2 My fingers trembled, barely able to scroll the screen. I flipped to the very beginning. Last September, "Stargazing Bunny" posted several consecutive updates. [Today at the gym, I met a super charismatic man! I was warming up, and he was running next to me. After finishing a set, I looked up and found him looking right at me. He even smiled.] [When I was changing equipment, I accidentally knocked over my water bottle, and he immediately came over to help clean it up, asking if I got burned. His voice was so nice, a deep bass; it must be so sexy when he's breathing hard~] [Today I saw a woman on his phone's lock screen. He said she was his fiancée, but not as pretty as me.] [Damn it, why is such a disciplined and gentle man already taken? I don't care, I have to get him!] Harrison had maintained a gym routine for many years. But he wasn’t very diligent in going every week. It seemed that it was from last September that he started frequenting the gym. At the time, I had discomfort in my lower back from sitting too long at the office and also thought about exercising. But Harrison said his gym was too far from my company and inconvenient. He actively helped me find another, nicer gym nearby and bought me an annual membership. I thought he was being considerate, thinking of me. Turns out, this was the real reason. That man who swore he loved me, wanted to spend his life with me, and promised eternal fidelity. All his "overtime" and "busyness" for the past six months. He wasn't working hard for our future; he was spending all his time with another woman. For a moment, I wanted to storm directly into Harrison’s company, in front of everyone. Throw the evidence in his face, demand to know why he did this to me. Humiliate him completely, ruin his reputation. But such a public showdown seemed so ugly. Five years together, why should it come to this? I braced myself on the table and staggered into the restroom. Splashing cold water on my face, I calmed down slightly. Picking up my phone, I refreshed the page. "Stargazing Bunny" had just posted a new update. [Tonight, he said he had a business dinner, but he really just didn’t want to go back to face that old woman~ Anyway, he’s here with me. We ordered crawfish and beer. He peels shrimp so seriously, more seriously than he takes off his own clothes, hehe.] The accompanying picture showed a man's hands peeling shrimp, his knuckles distinct. Above that, his collar was slightly open, revealing a sexy collarbone and Adam's apple. This angle, this action—I was all too familiar with them. Once upon a time, Harrison used to sit across from me like this, peeling and deveining shrimp for me. I worried he was working too hard, but he just smiled and said: “What’s so hard about serving my wife?” “Anyway, in this life, I’ll only ever serve one woman: you.” My phone suddenly vibrated. A message from Harrison: [Wife, I’ll be home a bit late. Want me to bring you some late-night food? Crawfish, do you want some?] I stared at that line of text for a long time. Every time he said that before, I would send a happy emoji. I paused, then typed: [No thanks, I’m not hungry.] He replied instantly: [Okay then, get some rest if you’re tired.] The sound of the lock turning. I looked at the clock, 10:30 PM. Harrison pushed the door open, carrying a cake box. Seeing me sitting in the living room, he froze for a moment, then walked over with a smile. “Didn’t I tell you to go to bed early? Why are you still waiting for me?” He placed the cake box on the coffee table and opened it. It was a strawberry cake from my favorite shop. “Passed by and saw their new seasonal limited edition. Thought you’d definitely like it, so I bought it. Consider it a belated birthday treat. I’ve been so busy lately. Thank you, my wife, for being so understanding and generous, for understanding that your husband’s work is tough and he can’t always be with you.” He spoke, reaching out to touch my head. His tone was natural, his movements fluid. No different from any ordinary night over the past five years. I looked at him. That familiar face, those gentle eyes, that hand rubbing my head. He didn’t look like a cheating man at all. But that hand, an hour ago, hadn’t it touched another girl? Touched every inch of her skin? I closed my eyes in disgust, pulling away from his touch. Harrison’s hand froze in mid-air. “What’s wrong, wife?” “You don’t look so good. Did you encounter a difficult client again?” I calmly explained, “No, just a little tired.” “Then I’ll cut you some cake. Eat a bite and then go to bed, okay?” I watched him lower his head. The contents of that forum post flashed repeatedly in my mind. “Sent birthday wishes while ‘exercising’ in my bed,” “his fiancée is old and withered,” “the unloved one is the side chick.” The unloved one is the side chick. Perhaps in some people’s eyes, love is a competition where first come, first served doesn’t matter. As long as the first one isn’t firmly chosen, they can be righteously replaced by the next. “Harrison.” He looked up, still holding the cake knife. “Hm?” I looked into his eyes, enunciating each word: “Do you have anything else you want to tell me?” 3 That was the last chance I gave Harrison. As long as he confessed proactively, we could part amicably, preserving his last shred of dignity. And it would have brought closure to my final lingering sentiment for our five-year relationship. “What do you mean?” “Helen, what’s gotten into you today?” Harrison’s expression also paused. Perhaps it was guilt. Perhaps it was a test. For the first time in five years, I couldn't read the man in front of me. “Harrison, are you hiding something from me?” The fingers gripping the cake knife tightened slightly. Just for an instant, then his expression returned to normal as he continued to cut the cake. “Hiding what from you?” His voice was gentle as he offered the first slice he cut to me. “Did I upset my wife by secretly buying a strawberry cake without telling her?” The scent of strawberries wafted over. My favorite smell. Before, every time I smelled it, I couldn't help but lean in and kiss him. Now, looking at that slice of cake, I just felt nauseous. “Answer my question.” The smile on his face slowly faded. He placed the cake on the coffee table and sat across from me. His hands were clasped on his knees, his posture relaxed. But his gaze was fixed on me. “Helen, did something happen to you?” He was observing me. After five years of being together, I could discern the meaning of his every micro-expression. At this moment, the corners of his mouth were slightly downturned, and there was a faint crease between his brows. It was his tense posture when facing an uncertain situation. “Harrison, I’m asking you right now. Answer me first.” Silence spread between us. His phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the screen, didn’t answer, and immediately pressed to dismiss the call. “Work stuff. I’ll call them back later.” I casually said, “Call them back now. What if it’s important?” “Nothing is more important than you.” Harrison had said that countless times. Each time, I believed it. Now, it only felt ironic. “Helen.” He called my name seriously, his gaze focused. “I don’t know if my recent lack of companionship has made you overthink. But I can tell you, I’m not hiding anything from you. It’s been five years, you know best what kind of person I am.” I was silent for a moment, then asked again, “Where were you this afternoon?” His eyes flickered slightly, then quickly returned to normal. “At the office. I had a meeting until after one.” “Who did you have lunch with?” “Ordered some takeout, just grabbed something quick.” “And tonight?” Harrison paused. “Didn’t I tell you? I had a business dinner. Smell me, I still have the scent of alcohol on my breath.” He said, trying to lean closer to me. Seeing my disgusted expression, he looked hurt. “Alright, alright, I know my wife doesn’t like me drinking. I’ll go shower right away.” The sound of rushing water from the bathroom. I stood at the door, hearing a muffled voice from inside. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me when I’m home? What if she finds out? She seems to have noticed something lately…” “No way, she’s the only daughter-in-law my parents recognized long ago. I can’t break up with her. Just be good. Besides going public, I’ll give you whatever you want.” “Little minx, next week you won’t be able to get out of bed. See how I’ll satisfy you.” Hearing this with my own ears, I thought I would be heartbroken to the point of tearing myself apart. But in reality, there was only a dull, spreading numbness. Perhaps my heart had truly given up. At 3 AM, Harrison was already asleep. His phone lay on the bedside table, screen down. I picked it up; the password was my birthday, unchanged. I checked it, and there was no abnormality. Just when I thought he had cleaned everything, I suddenly remembered he had a so-called work-only private account. Switching over, there was only one contact named [Ms. Bunny]. The chat history was dense. Besides daily exchanges, it was mostly indecent flirtation and teasing. Before he left in the morning, she asked: [Are you up?] He replied: [Both I and it are up.] Accompanied by a picture of a blanket bulging. At noon, he sent: [So conflicted, don’t know what to eat.] She replied with a selfie wearing lace: [How about eating me?] After saving all the evidence, I put the phone back in its place. Turning my head, I looked at the man's sleeping profile. I suddenly remembered something. My hand reached for his pants. Just as I started to pull them down, Harrison noticed my movement. He groggily opened his eyes and pressed my hand down. “Wife, do you want to? I’ve been so tired from work lately. Let’s do it another time.” Was he really tired from work? Or had he expended all his energy on that Ms. Bunny? I remembered the glimpse I had just caught. The bunny tattoo. “Harrison, wake up. Tell me the truth.” “Who is that woman?”