Loving You is Too Exhausting

Simon's voice was deep and magnetic, carrying a strange sense of intimacy.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Three months ago, my favorite singer came to perform in the city. The tickets were in such high demand that they sold out almost instantly. After staying up all night, I finally managed to snag two. Overjoyed, I immediately shared the news with Simon.

But his reaction was cold. He frowned, sneered, and said, "Valerie, I don’t expect you to ease my burdens, but at least don’t add to them."

Before I could respond, he tore the tickets in half and threw them into the trash.

Then he slammed the door and left.

I didn’t understand. It was just a concert—how could it possibly "add to his burdens"?

It wasn’t until recently, when I stumbled upon Abigail’s secret social media account, that the truth emerged.

It turned out Abigail also liked this singer. To fulfill her wish to meet him, Simon had gone out of his way to organize a private dinner.

During the dinner, Simon even attempted to persuade the singer to sign a residency contract with his company’s performance venue.

But negotiations fell apart, and the two parted on bad terms.

Coincidentally, that was when I got my hands on the tickets again. And he, full of frustration from his failed plans, vented all his anger on me.

What he’d forgotten was that the person who originally admired this singer wasn’t me—it was him.

When Simon confessed his feelings to me, he played one of the singer's songs. That moment stayed with me, etched deeply in my heart.

Now, my vision blurred as tears welled up.

He fought for tickets for Abigail out of love. For me, it was just a fleeting sense of guilt.

How ironic.

Seeing I hadn’t responded, Simon called my name again.

I replied calmly, "Okay."

Where things began was where they should end.

Every love story deserves its conclusion.

"Number 255, Valerie Lewis."

After hanging up, I heard my name being called from the consultation room.

The doctor, busy entering data into the computer, confirmed once more, "Are you sure you want to terminate the pregnancy? Your fallopian tubes are already blocked, making it difficult to conceive. After this, it may be nearly impossible to get pregnant again."

I nodded. "Yes, I’m sure."

Shortly after, I went to the OR.

The harsh white lights of the operating room flickered on and off.

It felt as though something was being forcibly taken from me, a piece of myself torn away.

After the procedure, I hailed a cab and left the hospital, trembling.

The pain in my abdomen and the ache in my back lasted the entire night. I barely slept, only drifting off briefly at dawn.

Simon only returned home the afternoon of the concert.

To protect myself from the cold, I bundled up tightly, my layers drawing his attention.

"It’s not that cold out today. You don’t need to wear so much," he commented.

I replied simply, "I’m worried it might get colder tonight."

It was only then he noticed my pale complexion. Concern flickered across his face.

"Are you feeling unwell? Did you catch a cold?"

I shook my head. "I’m fine. Let’s go. The concert will start soon."

Even though he gave me a doubtful look, he said nothing more.

The venue was crowded, and as we handed in our tickets, I nearly stumbled. If not for Simon’s quick reflexes, I would have fallen.

"Thank you," I said distantly as I steadied myself.

Simon adjusted his tie and smiled. "Valerie, when did we become so formal? Are you still upset about—"

His phone rang, cutting him off.

The moment he answered, his expression darkened. "What? I’ll be there right away."

He stuffed the tickets into my hands, his urgency palpable. "Valerie, something just came up. I can’t stay to watch the concert with you. I promise I’ll make it up to you next time!"