My Fiancé Called Me Crazy While Comforting Another Woman

She was thrilled. “I knew it! You’re the type who sees what really counts. With your dual mentors from Dothan, staying in the admin department wastes your skills. Once the overseas work settles in, the director position at the main office will be waiting for you.”

Halfway through, she stopped.

“It’s only… this stretch abroad will last around five years. Aren’t you close to getting married? Your husband….”

“We won’t be getting married.”

After ending the call, I pulled out a suitcase and started sorting.

The cups we painted together.

The charms we tied together at the church.

The things we bought were matching sets.

Every one of them turned into trash, stuffed straight into garbage bags.

During that stretch, Zaria kept texting me.

A photo of a broad hand rubbing her stomach.

[Chase said my tummy aches. He has this special rubbing trick that makes it go away. Astraea, has Chase ever rubbed your tummy before?]

A hot plate of pot pies was shown late at night.

[I offhandedly said I wanted chicken soup, and Chase drove fifty kilometers to buy them for me. Nothing tastes better than chicken soup, and nothing is more fun than Chase, hehe.]

After dragging my suitcase to the trash area and throwing everything out, I blocked her.

There was no sadness.

Only a huge, freeing ease.

By the time Chase came back, it was already noon the next day.

The moment our eyes met, he seemed briefly startled by the makeup I had put on purpose.

Smiling, he walked toward me and reached for my hand.

“Good girl. Since you know you were wrong, come eat. I bought chicken soup for you.”

The cheap plastic box held only a few torn skins.

He rubbed his nose awkwardly.

“I rushed home, so they got shaken apart. Let’s just head out to eat.”

I pulled my hand away.

“Probably no time today. I’m having dinner with my girl friends.”

He froze, his voice jumping up. “You dressed so nicely and even did your makeup, wasn’t it for me?”

I stared at him, completely lost. “Didn’t you say I look awful when I dress up? Why would I dress up for you?”

I clicked my tongue in frustration, slid around him, snatched my bag, and headed outside.

Chase always complained when I wore bold colors, saying they made me look cheap and immature.

Anything shorter than the knee was “trying to lure people.”

If I put on makeup, he laughed at me, saying I was “painting over my age.”

He especially disliked it when I spent time with girlfriends.

For years, to please him, I cut down my social life and packed away the dresses I loved.

I wore bland, loose office outfits each day, bare-faced, riding to work like someone twice my age.

All this while I hadn’t even turned thirty.

Meanwhile, at the company, Zaria turned her uniform into a tight skirt, wore full makeup, curled her hair into big waves, and he praised her for “having spark” and being “eager in her job.”

It was then I understood.

When someone was biased, nothing you did was right.

Luckily, I no longer had to worry about what he thought.

When my girl friends heard I was dumping Chase and heading overseas, they were stunned.

They knew too well how pathetic I used to act around him.

When they realized I was finally waking up, they almost set off fireworks

They took turns cursing at him; apparently, they’d disliked him for ages.

To send me off right, we finished one round of drinks, then hit a karaoke room, staying out until two in the morning.

When I came home, Chase hadn’t gone to sleep.

He sat on the sofa with a dark expression. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

I replied lightly, “Maybe I didn’t notice it.”

His expression turned even worse. “Astraea, I haven’t eaten anything yet.”

I slid through a silly clip a friend sent and nodded with no real focus.

“Then order takeout. At this hour, the rider should get here quickly.”