Move Forward, Never Look Back

In the dead of winter, a heavy snowstorm hit.

The streets were filled with stranded workers unable to catch a bus, subway, or taxi.

I felt a glimmer of hope when my boyfriend promised to pick me up an hour ago.

But now, two hours had passed, and he called to say he wasn't coming.

Then, I saw his assistant post something on social media.

"On this bitterly cold night, only Mr. Potter is warm."

The image was of two men's hands clasped together.

A shiver ran down my spine.

I felt colder than the freezing winter outside.

I casually commented, "Wishing Mr. Potter finds true love."

***

I glanced out the window at the still-falling snow.

I shut down my computer and got up to leave.

According to George Potter, he should have arrived by now.

My colleague Linda furrowed her brows in frustration.

"Ugh, with the buses and subways all shut down, I couldn't get a ride even after trying for half an hour. How are you planning to get home, Nancy White?"

I replied nonchalantly.

"My boyfriend is picking me up."

Linda immediately squinted with envy.

"I really envy you. You're so lucky to have such a thoughtful boyfriend!"

I smiled helplessly.

Thoughtful? If I told anyone, they might not believe it.

After three years of dating, this was the first time he had offered to pick me up.

And that's only because we had a huge fight last night.

He was trying to make peace this way.

Last night was our third anniversary.

I had made a reservation at a fancy restaurant and asked him to pick me up.

But right before leaving work, he texted to say he had to accompany a client unexpectedly, so I had to cancel dinner.

Ironically, I ended up spotting George's car on the way home.

In the passenger seat sat his pale, slender assistant, Mark Yukio.

So, was this the "important client" he mentioned?

I was struck by a bolt of shock and immediately called him to confirm.

I watched as he ignored my call and turned to chat with his assistant instead.

He had no idea I was witnessing everything from the side of the road.

When he finally returned home reeking of alcohol, he was still spinning excuses.

I sent him the photos I had taken of him and his assistant from the roadside.

Realizing he was caught, he exploded in anger.

"Nancy, what's your problem? Can't I bring my assistant to meet a client? Do you think anyone who's with me is having an affair? You're disgusting and perverted!"

But what he didn't know was that I had done more than take that one photo.

I had also tailed them in a cab and watched as they entered another restaurant.

I saw them sitting by the window, enjoying a meal together.

There weren't any clients in sight, but I couldn't be bothered to argue with him anymore.