He Says the Unloved One Is the Mistress

Rory was a professional racer, and I was his navigator.

That day, we were supposed to scout the rally track together.

But the day before we were set to leave, he bought a plane ticket to go see Malaya without even notifying me.

On the unfamiliar roads, I was driving alone and encountered a blind spot with no one to warn me, which led to the accident and the subsequent car crash. Stanley's team rescued me and brought me to the hospital, where I was in a coma for three full days.

Since waking up, I'd been working tirelessly, trying to remember the road conditions to revise the route book for Rory.

Yet, when he finally came in, he didn't even ask about my injuries or show me any concern.

Rory didn't think he was at fault at all. He looked at my head and face wrapped in bandages and sneered, "You're out of your depth and still pushing forward. How dare you blame others?"

He took a few steps closer, snatching the book from me and flipping through it. His temper seemed to cool slightly, but his tone remained disdainful. "This is all you've got."

Since becoming famous, Rory had grown increasingly arrogant and reckless, believing he could lead the race without a navigator. He had come to disregard my efforts more and more.

My heart ached deeply.

He couldn't even be bothered to deal with me, storming out of the room with the route book in hand.

As I watched his retreating figure, I couldn't hide the hurt I felt inside.

On Twitter, the topic of the scandal continued to spread.

More and more people dug into Rory's past with Malaya.

The bittersweet romance of their once regretful breakup was now rekindled.

Netizens reveled in their touching love story and threw cold jabs at me.

I had long grown accustomed to their venomous comments and paid no mind.

The evidence of our relationship that I had posted was already managed by PR, and I sighed as I opened my video collection, deleting everything related to Rory.

I deleted highlight reels of his racing, fan edits of his looks, and interviews, right down to a CP video I had kept from our early days.

Back then, we were unknown, and he had freely expressed his love for me.

Racing was fraught with danger, and every completed race was a blessing from the gods.

He would hold my hand for encouragement before hitting the track, and after races, our helmets would touch as a substitute for a kiss. We were intimate in secret corners where no one knew.

When I first discovered someone had edited our CP video, I was thrilled and showed it to him.

Rory, in his arrogance, had said, "What's the big deal? When I win the championship, I'll propose with the trophy and make a grand gesture."

But when he was actually in front of the camera, he only said, "Thanks to my partner."

For his career, I had endured so much.

Now, watching that video only brought me endless sadness.

The video's cover was now grayed out, indicating the author had deleted or hidden it.

I clicked on the author's profile and found her latest video was a sweet montage of Rory and Malaya.

My blood went cold, and I felt an indescribable pain in my heart.

The comments section was flooded with that famous quote.

[Only those who aren't loved are the third parties.]

Looking at those words, I suddenly laughed.

Rory made a very valid point.

I closed the video and sent Rory a message.

[Let's break up.]

Then I blocked all his contact information.

I no longer wanted to be the so-called "third wheel" they were criticizing.