Cheating Scumbag, Break Off the Engagement

I've known Jack Yoxall since we were children.

Given the closeness of our families, I followed him around every day as a child, and everyone knew about my crush on him.

Eventually, our relationship progressed to dating and then engagement, and we became the model couple in our social circle.

But a year ago, when he launched a new project, everything changed.

His work life became more demanding, and he hired a new secretary.

Initially, she didn't catch my attention—her appearance was unremarkable, easily lost in a crowd.

However, I gradually realized my error.

This seemingly ordinary person had somehow caught Jack's special attention.

He started to scold me for preferring steaks, calling it an extravagant and wasteful habit.

When I shopped for clothes, his complaints about the prices were endless, accusing me of reckless spending.

He went as far as to say that the cost of one of my outfits could feed a typical family for a month.

I later discovered he was comparing me to his secretary, Liz McKibben.

Liz grew up in a family that favored sons over daughters and managed to secure a scholarship to college through her own efforts.

Currently, she still sends half of her salary back home.

Jack's sympathy for her led to a growing resentment towards me, whom he saw as a coddled princess.

Last month, I decided to surprise Jack at his office.

His picky eating habits due to work stress had caused frequent flare-ups of gastritis.

Concerned for his health, I monitored his diet closely and hired a chef to prepare his meals.

I arrived at his office, cheerful and carrying a lunchbox, only to discover that he had already eaten.

Inside the office, he gave my lunchbox an awkward look.

My eyes locked onto the pristine little bear lunchbox on his desk, and my heart sank.

Clearly, it was the kind of item a woman would choose.

Doubt began to take root in my mind at that moment.

I forced a smile and inquired, "Where did this lunch come from? Has the company started providing meals? What about the lunches I used to send?"

Just as I finished speaking, the door to the nearby lounge opened.

Liz stood there, surprised, clutching a lunchbox identical to the one on Jack's desk.

They were clearly part of a couple's set.

In an instant, everything became clear.

I scoffed at them both and, right before their eyes, threw the lunchbox into the trash can forcefully.

Liz turned pale and couldn't bring herself to look at me.

I glared at her and coldly told Jack, "Seems like your secretary's got your diet covered well, so I won't bother anymore."

"She can handle your meals from now on."

I left the office quickly, holding back tears, without waiting for an explanation.

After that day, I never again brought him lunch.

Whenever I mentioned the incident, he would dismiss me as being irrational and not as understanding as his secretary.

Gradually, I grew tired of the relationship.

I stopped being as attentive to him as before, no longer sending messages to check if he had come home before bed.

Instead, I started to prioritize my own needs, sending him lists of what I needed so he could make purchases.

A few days ago, Christine invited me out to dinner and asked me with a mysterious tone, "Ginny, have you had some good news recently?"

Confused, I listened as she elaborated, "About you and Jack."

"He ordered a diamond necklace worth over a hundred thousand from my store—it's quite extravagant."

"Even I'm envious."

Knowing that her family owns a jewelry store, I trusted her words.

As she spoke, hope began to stir once again in the still waters of my heart.

The more Christine described, the more excited I became.

But on Valentine's Day, my expectations were shattered.

Instead of the specially ordered diamond necklace, I received only a hastily bought bouquet of roses.

The custom-made diamond necklace was on his secretary's neck.

My feelings, built over more than two decades, seemed trivial compared to his bond with a woman he had known for just a year.

Reflecting on this, I scoffed at myself cynically.

After Jack left, I collapsed onto the sofa, utterly spent.

I covered my eyes with my hand, struggling to hold back tears.

At that moment, it felt as if I could hear the sound of my heart breaking.

I had completely given up.