The Seven-Year Itch: I Finally Gave Up on Him

[It's over here.]

I sent a message to Eason.

[There was something wrong with the company. Melody said that a client came temporarily.]

[Take a taxi back.]

[Okay.]

Both of us knew that he wouldn't come to pick me up.

Even so, he and I would complete such a routine.

Because there was nothing else to say.

I flipped through the chat history with him recently. Not a single chat record was more than ten words.

What appeared the most was the sentence he had sent.

[I won't be back tonight.]

And Melody.

[Melody and I...]

He was on a business trip with Melody, met the client, and went to the airport with Melody.

Eason had an advantage. He wouldn't hide it from me.

But he had never thought that what I cared about was not whether he reported it or not, nor whether he would come to pick me up or not.

Instead, he mentioned Melody seven times out of ten.

I minded that a lot.

I had lost my temper with him dozens of times over this.

I could even memorize his reply.

"Just work."

"She's my secretary. We work together."

"You know that without her, the company can't have been established."

"You think too much. Don't be so petty."

The taxi driver saw me coming out of the hotel and smelled of alcohol. He told me, "Miss, did you drink? Do you want to call your family to pick you up later?"

No one could pick me up.

I shook my head and rolled down the window.

The night view of the city flashed by one after another.

All of a sudden, I wondered if it was because I was too ostentatious back then.

I wore a wedding dress too early.

So I couldn't get married until now.

But what would happen after I married him?

Would it always be like this?

Looking at the people coming and going outside the car window, for the first time, I wondered if I really wanted to marry Eason.