I Broke Free from His Love Chains

As Ruby's invitation hung in the air, Andy smiled and replied: [Okay.]

His fingers paused, scrolling through the chat history with me.

Days had passed without a word exchanged between us.

The last message was still lingering from when I had asked: [When will you be back tonight?]

No response came.

That evening, he was once again summoned to attend to Ruby's personal affairs.

Andy frowned with a hint of discontent etching on his features.

In the past, it was I who initiated the conversations, his replies as capricious as his moods.

Each quarrel ended with me swallowing my pride, extending an olive branch.

Yet, this was the first time we had endured such a lengthy cold war, and I had yet to yield.

He often admonished me not to intrude on his space.

Now that I truly refrained, he should have been content.

But his brows remained knitted as if grappling with an unforeseen dilemma.

His fingers danced across the screen, typing and deleting words in hesitation before finally sending a message.

[Have you figured out how to apologize to Ruby?]

Five minutes passed, but his phone was silent.

Half an hour later, there was still no response.

Andy slammed his phone down with irritation. "Let's see how long you can hold out."

At that moment, a colleague burst in with a parcel in hand.

"Andy, this seems to be for you."

Glancing at the signature, he added, "Looks like it's from your wife, right?"

Andy took it. His expression was sullen as he casually opened the box.

Inside lay the anniversary gift I had meticulously prepared a week in advance.

This year marked our third wedding anniversary. A cherished tradition we had faithfully maintained was the exchange of heartfelt gifts.

However, the serene waters of our celebration were rippled by an unexpected turn: Ruby's return disrupted Andy's memory. He seemed busy day and night.

But I still prepared a gift for Andy.

The gift was a U-shaped latex pillow, which was designed to alleviate the strain on Andy's cervical spine from his frequent naps at his desk.

I chose it after two weeks of searching.

"Andy, you're one lucky guy!" the colleague exclaimed.

"Your wife is so thoughtful, unlike my wife who barely cares me!"

But Andy remained cold, a trace of scorn curling his lips.

"She's just playing these petty tricks."

With that, he discarded the pillow, not even sparing it a second glance.

"You don't want it?" the colleague asked, surprised. "If you abandon it, I'll take it."

Andy didn't even lift his head.

"I'm unwilling to use anything that woman sends.

"Take it if you like it."