After the Breakup, I Rejected His Redemption

Blood rushed to my head and my cheeks began to burn. My head ached again and there was a slight ringing in my ears.

Seeing my pale face, William put away his emotions and frantically searched for my medication. "Haven't you been to the hospital? Did you miss taking your medicine last night?"

I gently raised my hand, wanting to tell him the medicine was in the drawer beside me. William's phone suddenly rang on the table. The contact name was "Grape." William didn't like eating fruit.

I always had to coax and trick him into eating some. But there was one exception that he loved. Grapes.

He looked at me, hesitated for a moment, then picked up the phone and turned his back to me. "Hello, speak slowly. Okay, don't worry, I'm coming."

William took a deep breath, his back to me, clearly conflicted. "Do you know why her things exploded? She was trying to commit suicide. If something happened to her right under my nose, what good am I ... I really can't ignore her."

"But believe me, I have no feelings for her anymore." While saying these words, he never turned around. Like a hero driven by an overwhelming sense of duty.

Before leaving, he said softly, "Since you're sick, don't get so angry. It's bad for your health."

I couldn't even tell if he was seriously advising me. The living room was empty, just me.

Ignoring the cold sweat on my forehead, I used all my strength to pull open the drawer, took out the pills and swallowed them dry. Leaning on the coffee table for a long time, my mind gradually cleared.

I never told William that my condition was not optimistic, afraid it would make him sad. He always thought I had a simple headache. I had carefully planned how to prepare him psychologically, so he wouldn't be devastated by my departure. All those preparations felt meaningless at this moment.

I stared blankly out the window. My hand suddenly touched the moisture-proof paper at the bottom of the drawer. The texture felt strange. Frowning, I lifted the paper. Underneath was a concert ticket dated last December.

A cold chill spread through my heart. Last December. I remembered clearly, William said he had a business trip to Denver and couldn't spend Christmas with me.

When he came back, he brought a bunch of souvenirs to make up for it. I loved the small pink furnace from the Denver Museum. He proudly told me that many people couldn't get their hands on it, but he bought several different types.

I asked him, "Then why did you only bring back one? Where are the others?"

He laughed foolishly, "My colleagues took them. They’re bunch of wolves."

I mechanically walked into the room, rummaged through the drawers and found William's spare phone. He hadn't used it for a long time and many apps had logged out. Only a few were still logged in.

Among them was the order history I wanted to see. For that concert, he bought two tickets. A couple's package. They visited almost all of Denver during those days.

I kept checking. The movie ticket orders seemed endless. Some movies we watched together, some we didn't. But without exception, he bought two tickets for each. Various entertainment activities for two.

Escape rooms, pottery, concerts, plays. It was clear his life was very fulfilling. Clutching the phone, I leaned against the headboard. I couldn't understand how he managed it. To me, his work schedule seemed so regular.

Our relationship seemed so good. How did he manage to have such close interactions with another woman within the gaps of our love? When William returned, he brought a lot of groceries. He rushed into the bedroom to find me, excitedly saying he wanted to cook something good for me.

I threw the phone in front of him. William's face instantly darkened. Almost simultaneously, he angrily threw down the bags he was carrying and paced the room.

Finally, flushed with anger, he asked me, "Is it because I said she was my ex-girlfriend that you keep harping on this? I told you we have nothing going on!"

I looked at him indifferently. What kind of mindset did he have saying these things? Was he so addicted to playing the role of a faithful boyfriend that he deceived even himself?

I replied calmly, "You know I hate lies the most."

He replied, "I never lied to you. Everything I've told you is true!"

I insisted, "And what about the things you haven't said? Concealing part of the truth is also lying."

He tried to speak earnestly, "But those are my past. You can't erase someone's past."

I pointed to the dates, "We've been together for three years. How many movies have you seen with her in those three years? Do you want me to count them for you? Last year, you went to Denver with her. Do you think that's appropriate?"

William's voice grew louder, "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd ask so many questions. I really don't like it! After we broke up, we're just friends. If there's a movie you don't like, is it wrong to see it with a friend who does?"

"That concert too. Do you even know that singer?" I kept asking.

His eyes flashed with disdain. At that moment, I suddenly felt that arguing was pointless. He genuinely believed he was not at fault.

William, perhaps thinking his attacks weren't strong enough, suddenly said, "You're so sensitive and difficult, no wonder your parents don't want you."