She Lost Me the Day She Chose Him

Roger flinched and ducked behind Serena.

That lit her up.

“Stuart, don't push it.”

“I'm pushing it?” I let out a short laugh.

“Yesterday was the day my parents set aside to meet their future daughter-in-law.”

“My mother got up before dawn to boil water and slaughter the hog she'd been raising for two years for the holiday feast.”

“You sat down at that table, took a phone call, and left.”

“You told me the company's servers had crashed.”

“And what actually happened?” I pointed at Roger's wrist. “A server crash required you to personally go put a watch on your male assistant?”

Serena went still for a second, her eyes darting away.

“Roger was moving apartments yesterday. He threw out his back lifting a wardrobe and was stuck in his rental, couldn't move.”

“I went to help him deal with a personal emergency.”

“Your family can slaughter a hog any time. Roger's back was hurt and nobody was there to help. That could've been serious.”

She said it without a shred of hesitation, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. My chest went tight.

I nodded.

“You're right.”

“So I won't hold you up from playing savior anymore.”

I yanked my hand free.

Serena stared at her empty palm. Her face darkened.

“Stuart, the resignation handover takes three days. Use those three days to cool off.”

“After that, you come back to work like a good boy, and I'll pretend today never happened.”

She was certain I'd never leave.

And why wouldn't she be? For five years I'd turned down offers from major tech firms to stay by her side, building Vance Technologies with her from a busted garage to what it was now.

Every professional connection I had, most of my savings, all of it was tied up in her company.

She'd grown used to my patience. My giving in.

I didn't argue. I just bent down and picked up the box of personal belongings I'd dropped on the floor.

“Fine. I'll finish the handover.”

I carried the box toward the elevator.

Serena stayed where she was. She didn't follow.

Behind me, I heard Roger's voice, low and careful：“Serena, is Stuart actually mad?”

Serena scoffed.

“He's stubborn, but he knows what's good for him. He just wants me to give a little.”

The elevator doors slid shut.

I took out my phone and rescheduled my train ticket home to three days later.

That evening, I went back to the apartment Serena and I shared.

The place was full of me. The succulents on the balcony, the matching mugs in the kitchen, the hand-stitched throw pillows on the couch. I'd picked out every one of them.

I pulled out the large suitcase and started packing my clothes and books into it, piece by piece, in silence.

At ten-thirty, the door lock clicked open.

Serena walked in smelling like alcohol, carrying a takeout container of congee.

She didn't even glance at the suitcase on the floor. Just set the congee on the dining table.

“Still mad?” She came over and reached for my arm out of habit.

I stepped aside.

Her hand closed on air. Her brow creased immediately.

“I went out of my way to the south side of the city to get you that scallop and seafood congee. Your favorite place.”

“Come eat it while it's hot. After that, we're done talking about this.”

Her tone was that of someone graciously offering a way out.

I walked to the table and opened the container.

The smell of peanut butter hit me full in the face.

I looked up at her.

“Serena, I'm severely allergic to peanuts. Did you forget?”

She froze. Something unnatural flickered across her face for just an instant.

“I……I thought you used to eat it.”

“That's Roger. Roger's the one who likes peanut butter in his seafood congee.”

I put the lid back on, calmly.