No Second Chances for my Cheating Boyfriend

I forced a smile, my fingers brushing against my forehead in a gesture of helplessness.

"So, everyone knew about this. It's almost laughable, isn't it? The person who once treated me so well, the one I thought was different, is the one who betrayed me."

David looked at me with a serious expression, his voice calm but firm.

"Haven’t you heard the saying? Find someone who is good in themselves, not just someone who is good to you."

His words hit me harder than I expected.

Yes, I had chosen James because he loved me, but I had overlooked something crucial.

Sincerity can fade, and love can change. James was no longer the shy boy who blushed when we first met.

I sighed quietly, feeling the weight of everything.

"Where are you headed? Going back to school by high-speed train?" David asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," I replied softly.

David nodded, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I’ll go with you."

At the high-speed rail station, I turned to say my goodbyes. As I boarded the train, I settled into my seat, watching the scenery blur past the window.

All I could think about was one thing: It was time to let go.

The one-hour ride was filled with the persistent buzzing of my phone. James' calls. His dozens of messages.

I saw them, but I couldn’t bring myself to reply.

My mind was consumed with memories of us.

We first met in freshman year. I had just entered school, eager to explore all the clubs and their activities. James approached me then, a friendly smile on his face.

"Hello, Miss. Would you like to know more about the calligraphy club?"

It was that simple sentence that set the course for everything between us.

He confessed to me at a hometown gathering, telling me that he wanted to take care of me. And he truly did. He brought me breakfast, saved me a spot at the library, worked part-time just to accompany me, sent me home for the holidays, and picked me up when I returned to school.

When he graduated and we were faced with the challenge of a long-distance relationship, he held me tightly and promised me something I thought I’d never doubt.

"No matter how far apart we are, you will always be my only one."

In just one year, everything had changed.

And since it had changed, I couldn’t hold on to it anymore.

That day, I sent James the only message I would ever send him again, the final message.

"James, let's break up."

After hitting send, I ignored him completely, turning my focus to preparing my inspection materials.

When I finally looked at my phone again, I found dozens—no, maybe hundreds—of missed calls and unread messages.

"Lila, did you go back to school? You left without saying goodbye, and now you're telling me we’re breaking up? What’s going on?"

"I know I’ve neglected your feelings because of my busy work, but I’m really swamped now. I need to think about our future. You don’t have a job, and if I don’t work harder, how will I support our little family?"

"Okay, stop being angry. I know I didn’t handle yesterday well."

"Lila, I know I was wrong. Can you please pick up and talk to me?"

Reading those messages made me feel nothing but absurdity.

I didn’t reply to him, but what I didn’t expect was for him to go as far as to contact my parents.

I had been with James for seven years, from undergraduate to graduate school. Our families had met. We had built a life together, or so I thought.

After finishing graduate school, he had moved back to our hometown, Springfield. My parents were thrilled about him. Every time I brought him home, they greeted him with warmth and enthusiasm.

I had even planned to marry him after graduation. But now, everything had changed.

"Lila, James called us and said you were angry with him and aren't picking up. What’s going on?"

"Mom, I didn’t lose my temper. I just didn’t know how to explain. Actually..."