Love's Quiet Demise

At the beginning of the eighth year of our relationship, Sean was busier than ever.

Yet in the few messages we exchanged each day, a woman constantly appeared in our conversation.

I asked Sean if he had eaten, and he said his colleague had picked up his meal—it was spicy. I asked if he wanted to watch a movie, and he said everyone was celebrating his colleague's paper, so there was a dinner gathering.

Later, when I got sick and asked if he could come home for a bit, he said his colleague had messed up an experiment and got scolded, so he had to stay and deal with it.

Something about these messages felt off. Soon enough, my intuition was confirmed.

On our monthly date, I got tickets for a concert Sean liked. But during that rare time together, he kept checking his phone. I felt a little annoyed but told myself he was busy, and it wasn't easy for him either.

"Who's interrupting you even on your day off?" I whispered.

"Lavender's modeling after my experiment. She messed up the data, so she's asking me," he replied casually.

Lavender Quinn was Sean's junior colleague. I didn't know what to feel, except pity that after all the effort we'd put into buying the tickets, neither of us had really paid attention.

On the way back, Sean pulled out his phone again. I couldn't take it and slammed it shut.

He frowned at me.

Looking him in the eye, I said teasingly, "You've missed two monthly dates already. I finally got you here, yet you're constantly on your phone. And you keep talking about your colleague. I'm going to get jealous now."

I thought he'd take it lightly and mention her less. Little did I expect him to get angry.

Sean's expression hardened. "Janelle, when did you become so petty? I'm just helping her because I want her to improve faster. That's all."

After that night, he started giving me the cold shoulder. Messages I sent him went unanswered.

On the third day, I got a message from him.

"I don't have any appetite. Make me something light, and bring it to the lab."

Taking it as a signal that we were making up, I took the day off and went to the market to buy ingredients. I cooked as quickly as possible and headed for the lab.

But as soon as I opened the door, I found Sean kneeling in front of a woman, gently rubbing her stomach. His voice, which was always cold and indifferent, was now filled with warmth and tenderness.

"How are you feeling? Better?"

"Much better, Sean."

My mind went blank in an instant. Thoughts raced through my mind, making my chest ache.

The woman suddenly looked up, blushing and pushing Sean away.

"Sean, stop! Someone's here."

Only then did Sean finally notice me at the door. He got up and frowned.

"Jan, this is the lab. Why didn't you knock?"

I gave him a deadpan look and sneered. "If I'd knocked, I wouldn't have seen what just happened, would I?"

Standing beside Sean, the woman stuck out her tongue and whispered, "Miss, you've misunderstood. I've been having period cramps, and it was getting so bad that I couldn't carry on with the experiments. Sean helped me because he had no choice."

Sean walked up to me and reached for the lunchbox. "The lab is short-staffed right now. Lavender hasn't eaten because she's been unwell. Give me the lunchbox."

He sounded nonchalant, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

I wanted to laugh out loud—I had been nothing but a joke all along. Pain gripped me and lashed out relentlessly.

"You rubbed her stomach because she was in pain. You let me cook for her because she had no appetite. When did you start being so attentive to someone else?"

I thought I was screaming my heart out, but my voice was hoarse and broken.

Sean, however, didn't think there was something wrong.

"Lavender's an essential member of the team," he responded evenly. "If she's well, our research can progress quickly. Can you stop projecting your twisted ideas about relationships onto us?"

I gave him a long look, then spun around and left with the lunchbox. I'd rather feed it to a dog than to Lavender.

In the next instant, Sean yanked the box from my hands so hard that I lost my balance and tumbled to the floor with it. The meal I had spent two hours preparing turned into a complete mess.

Sean's expression darkened. "You're making such a scene during lunch hour. Happy now?"

I knelt on the floor in silence, my hands bleeding from the cut caused by the broken lunchbox.

He froze, instinctively reaching out to help me up. But I pushed him away.

Enduring the pain, I hauled myself back on my feet and walked away.