A Fabrication of Seven Years

In the seventh year of my long-distance relationship with my girlfriend Quinn Summers, I quit my job without telling her and traveled more than six-hundred miles to Oceanton.

I only wanted to surprise her and ask her to marry me.

When the receptionist heard I was looking for Quinn, her expression slightly shifted. "Our CEO Ms. Summers is still in a meeting. Please wait a moment."

I was surprised. Quinn had never told me she had been promoted.

During our video call last week, she had even complained about how stressful work was and how far away a promotion felt.

When I turned around, I heard the receptionist whispering to her coworker. "So… This is the guy Ms. Summers is keeping on the side? Seriously, he has some nerve, coming all the way to the company."

"If Mr. Gomez finds out Ms. Summers is cheating during their marriage, this is going to be very bad."

I was about to turn back and tell them they had the wrong person. Quinn was not married, and I was her real boyfriend of ten years. But before I could speak, a man in a black suit walked in from the revolving door.

The receptionists immediately fell silent and greeted him with deep respect. "Mr. Gomez."

The man was on the phone, his voice low and gentle. "Honey, I'm downstairs. You must come with me to your prenatal checkup today!"

A clear female voice came through the phone, agonizingly sweet. "I know, honey. The meeting's almost over. Wait for me at the guest lounge."

I had listened to that voice for seven years. I knew it far too well.

It was my girlfriend, Quinn.

There was a soft thud as my backpack fell to the floor. When I crouched to pick it up, a prenatal report slipped out and fluttered down beside my foot.

It said the mother was twelve weeks pregnant. Under the "Mother's Name" bracket was Quinn's full name.

All this time, Quinn had told me she was busy and could only answer my calls once a week.

There was a time when Quinn finally agreed to a video call, and I saw a hickey on her neck.

"It's just a mosquito bite," Quinn explained at once. "Have you ever seen anyone else around me during all these years?"

I believed her. I even apologized and said I was being too suspicious. Now she had become someone else's wife. She was even carrying his child.

The man took the prenatal report from my hand and thanked me with a smile. When he saw me standing there, frozen, he asked, "Are you here to see Quinn too?"

I nodded.

"Then let's go up together. My wife always takes forever in meetings."

The words "my wife" hit me without warning, driving straight into my heart and leaving it bleeding.

In the guest lounge, the man finally introduced himself. His name was Hector Gomez, and he was also the head of the Gomez family based in Oceanton.

"My wife talks tough, but she's softhearted. She always says she's busy, but she still comes with me to her prenatal checkup every time," Hector said, grinning ear to ear as he looked at the report in his hand. "She's been working overtime a lot lately. She says she wants to earn enough money for the baby's formula. The whole company belongs to her family, but she still makes up excuses like that to humor me."

I clutched the backpack in my hand and forced down the anger in my chest.

Quinn had told me she was just an ordinary employee, that she was always being pushed around at work and could barely hope for a promotion. For seven years, she had always used the distance between us as an excuse and kept putting off getting married.

So, after I finished my last project at the end of the year, I quit my job and came all the way to Oceanton, hoping to marry Quinn.

Footsteps echoed outside the door. Then, several men in suits passed by the guest lounge and greeted Hector one after another. "Mr. Gomez, waiting for your wife again?"

When Quinn walked into the guest lounge, her coworkers beside her immediately teased her. "Ms. Summers, your husband is here to check on you again!"

Hector stepped forward and held her waist naturally, his tone faintly distressed. "Honey, what meeting took this long?"

"It ran a little late today. It won't happen again," Quinn said as she kissed his chin and calmed him down gently.

But when she looked up and saw me, the smile on her face froze. After just one second, she collected herself and asked coldly, "Why are you here?"

Hector turned to look at me. "Honey, who is this?"

The coworkers exchanged glances, then smiled and explained to Quinn.

"Who else could he be? He must be Ms. Summers's friend."

"Don't worry, Mr. Gomez. Everyone knows how much Ms. Summers loves you."

Quinn stepped forward and separated Hector from me, her tone distant and polite. "He's just a classmate from university."

She turned to the assistant beside her and said, "Please escort this gentleman out. Don't let him interrupt everyone's work."

I looked at her in disbelief, but her eyes were entirely on Hector.

When the assistant came to ask me to leave, Quinn only focused on holding Hector's hand. "Let's go, honey. We should get to the prenatal checkup."

Hector lowered his head and kissed her, smiling as he said, "My wife is such a good girl."

As he passed me, Hector looked back. "Honey, isn't it rude to leave your classmate standing there?"

Quinn did not look back at me. "He's just a classmate I barely know. How could he be more important than you?"

Tears fell before I could stop them, and the other passing employees watched my humiliation with scorn.

Ten years of relationship, seven years apart, and a journey of more than 600 miles. All I got was "a classmate I barely know" in the end.

There was still a message Quinn had sent three days ago on my phone. The text went: [Conrad, give me a little more time. Once my job is stable, we'll get married.]

I had quit my job and traveled all this way for her because of what she texted. But I never imagined it had all been a lie.