Loving You is Too Exhausting

Before I could respond, Simon had already put on his coat and hurried out the door without a backward glance.

For the first time, I didn’t ask where he was going. I didn’t even call to check.

The onboarding email from the company arrived quickly. They requested I start in two weeks. Without hesitation, I agreed.

Two weeks would be enough time to settle everything.

That night, I slept unusually well.

The next morning, as soon as I got up, I saw that Simon had already prepared breakfast.

"I bought your favorite porridge. Hurry and eat it while it’s still warm," he said, looking surprisingly cheerful.

I remained indifferent. "No need. I’m meeting a friend for breakfast. You can have it yourself."

Just half an hour earlier, Abigail had updated her social media.

[I casually mentioned wanting steamed buns from this breakfast shop, and my friend queued for two whole hours to get them. He spoils me so much!]

Since our marriage, Simon had never voluntarily bought me breakfast, let alone waited in line. Yet for Abigail, it seemed effortless to enjoy such privileges.

The thought tightened something in my chest, and I quickened my steps toward the door.

Seeing me reject him so decisively, Simon abruptly stood up and grabbed my arm, his voice rising in anger. "I apologized last night, ate dinner with you again—what more do you want?"

"Valerie, why are you being so unreasonable?"

I was puzzled. "I'm not being unreasonable."

I truly wasn’t. But Simon didn’t believe me. He sneered coldly.

"From last night until now, you didn’t even call me once. This morning, I specially bought breakfast, and you still give me the cold shoulder. If this isn’t throwing a tantrum, then what is?"

I rubbed my temples and sighed. "Didn’t you say you had work to do last night?"

I couldn’t understand—wasn’t this indifference exactly what he wanted?

Simon faltered, unable to respond immediately. It took him a while before he finally spoke.

"You think I don’t know you? If you were truly so understanding, we wouldn’t have fought so many times before."

"I know you’ve always been insecure because you were fostered by my family, but that doesn’t mean you can be so controlling."

Simon’s parents and mine had been close friends. When I was ten, my parents died in a car accident, and the Lewis family took me in.

It was Simon’s grandfather who personally gave me a new name.

Every time we argued, Simon would subtly or overtly criticize me for my lack of security and my controlling tendencies.

In the past, I would have exploded and argued with him. But this time, I didn’t care what he thought anymore.

I just wanted to leave, but Simon kept rambling on.

Unable to hold back, I interrupted him, "We’ve known each other since we were kids. Do you even know that I’m allergic to fish?"

Simon fell silent, and I gave a bitter smile. "Did you not notice, or do you not remember?"

Either way, it hurt so much that it was hard to bear. Well, it didn’t matter anymore.

I grabbed my bag, walked out the door, and didn’t look back.

Simon opened his mouth as if to say something but remained silent.

An hour after leaving the house, Simon, who rarely ever called me, had already rung me five times.

I flipped my phone over on the table, ignoring it completely.

My friends found it unusual, especially Brian.

He leaned close and asked quietly, "Are you really planning to give up? Aren’t you afraid your husband will be furious?"

I replied nonchalantly, "What does it matter to me?"

Since marrying Simon, I’d barely gone out for meals with friends. Even when I did, I wouldn’t touch a drop of alcohol.