Chapter 2

Chris arched an eyebrow. "The whole city knows you're my woman. Who would marry you?"

Selina chuckled. "You'll say anything just to save your reputation, won't you? If you're really getting a wedding license with someone else, prove it. We'd love to see who the unlucky man is."

Before I could stop her, she grabbed my bag and yanked the zip open. Everything inside spilled onto the ground. Gastric meds, hangover cures, and a box of lozenges. Mint flavored, the only thing Chris would take.

Yvonne pointed at the box of meds and hid her smile behind her hand. "Look at her. She's just like your nanny! Ten years she dated you, and she doesn't even have her own life! No wonder she can't live without you!"

The crowd cackled again.

Chris said nothing. He stared at a pen in the corner. Yvonne stepped right on it, and the pen shattered.

…

Six years ago, when Chris made the first real money of his life, he had not bought anything for himself. Instead, he took me shopping.

We wandered from the first floor of the mall all the way to the tenth, looking at everything from jewellery to handbags. In the end, the only thing we bought was that pen.

He engraved his initials onto the pen and grinned proudly. "I'll sign our marriage certificate with this!"

Every time he talked about getting the marriage license, I would tuck that pen into my bag. Valentine's, Labor Day, and even this day. I had forgotten to take it out, but perhaps that was fitting.

I did not need it anymore.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Queenie." Yvonne slipped her arm through Chris'. There was not a hint of apology in her voice.

Chris looked at the ground and gulped. "It's broken, but it's okay. I'll get you a new one later."

I shook my head.

Calmly, I said, "No. We've broken up, so it's useless."

His face fell. "What are you up to again?"

Silence fell for a moment. Everyone could see he was angry.

Yvonne chuckled and took out an exquisite fountain pen box from her bag. "I saw this overseas, and I thought it would suit you. Out with the old, in with the new."

Chris took it. "You know me so well."

Someone immediately chimed in, "Yvonne's so thoughtful."

"Chris doesn't need anyone else to worry about him."

I looked at the scattered meds and smiled.

For ten years, I took meticulous care of Chris. When the company's cash flow was in trouble, I was the one who went with him to plead with our clients.

When he had a bad gastric episode and could not even stand up, I was the one who went to all the pharmacies in town late at night to get him his meds. Then, at the beginning of this year, Yvonne came back.

Chris wanted to fulfill the unfulfilled dreams of his boyhood. He would make reservations at the restaurants Yvonne wanted to go to. He would remember every little thing she brought up.

I was his girlfriend, but I was nothing more than a stranger in that situation. My birthday was last month, and for some reason, Chris started preparing it two weeks beforehand. He told me cryptically, "I have a big surprise for you."

He lit up the candles himself on my birthday. I was moved, but then he went serious.

"I've been thinking about this, and I want to tell you something. After Yvonne came home, I realized I couldn't forget her. Let's break up."

My knife hovered over the cake, and silence fell. Then, someone burst into laughter. "Why aren't you crying? I'm going to lose money if you don't."

That was when I realized it was another betting event with me as the butt of the joke. It was also the moment I realized I was exhausted. I refused to stay a doormat and play these cruel games with those two.

I didn't care whether the breakup was real or just another joke.

"Fine."

Chris' smile froze. "What?"

"I said, fine. Let's break up."

Everyone went quiet.

His smile disappeared, and his face fell. "You're taking a joke that seriously? We've dated for ten years. Do you really think anyone else will take you?"

I said nothing, but his frustration mounted. "You love to start a scene. You should take some time to calm down. Get out. You're an eyesore."

How ironic. The birthday girl was getting kicked out of her own birthday party. So I did exactly what Chris wanted.

I left.

And after that, I stopped showing up. I stopped calling. Stopped waiting. Stopped being an eyesore.