It's Easy to Fall Out of Love

I was running into the subway station, drenched and breathless, when I saw Bryan Millan's latest Instagram post.

Today was our eighth wedding anniversary.

We were supposed to have dinner together. I had even taken the day off. But no matter how many times I called, his phone remained unreachable.

With nothing else I could do, I checked out his Instagram.

And in an instant, the blood in my veins turned to ice.

There was a photo of his young female assistant, dressed in a wedding gown, her fingers interlocked with his.

Their faces were turned slightly to the side. They were smiling sweetly at each other.

The caption read: [When you're in love, you want the whole world to know.]

The comments rolled in, all variations of the same shock:

[Bryan finally got married!]

[Congrats! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together!]

My eyes burned. My hands trembled.

I was his wife.

And yet, his friends had never even known I existed.

I had been the one to chase after him. The moment we got together, I had excitedly announced it to the world, telling every friend and relative.

But he never acknowledged me. No wedding. No public posts. Not a single trace of me on his social media.

I had cried, argued, and begged for a place in his life. He always dismissed it with a simple excuse—he wasn't comfortable sharing personal things online.

I had loved him, so I made excuses for him, too. I told myself he just wasn't the type to show off.

But now, with this bright, glaring declaration of love in front of me, I could no longer deceive myself.

Bryan wasn't reserved. He just didn't love me.

The rain kept falling, relentless, showing no sign of stopping.

And I no longer had a reason to wait.

No one was coming to pick me up.

So, I walked home alone. The downpour soaked me to the bone, the cold seeping into my heart, leaving it numb.

It wasn't until midnight that Bryan finally returned.

But this time, there was no warm welcome, no eager smile waiting for him. Only silence, thick and heavy, filling the unlit room.

He flicked on the light, frowning slightly, as if the emptiness unsettled him.

Then, deliberately, he made enough noise to wake me.

"You called so many times that I had to leave the company party early," he said, annoyed. "And now you have the nerve to be asleep already?"

He tossed something onto the bed—a small box.

"Here. Your present."

His tone carried the weight of someone bestowing a favor, like he expected gratitude. He even leaned down, magnanimously, ready to slip the ring onto my finger himself.

The old me would have cried tears of joy, believing this was an act of love.

But now, all I felt was disgust. I pulled my hand away.

His expression darkened instantly. "Lydia, what's wrong with you? Stop acting crazy."

He studied me for a moment, then sneered.

"You're mad about my Instagram post? That was just the company's wedding venue setup. Peggy and I were only pretending to be bride and groom to test it out. The post was just for fun. Why are you being so petty?"

Bryan had never been a patient man.

When I didn't respond within three seconds, he clicked his tongue in irritation and turned his back to me—his usual way of showing anger.

He knew how much I loved him. He knew how terrified I was of losing him.

That's why he never hesitated to push me to the edge.

In the past, this would have worked. I would've immediately panicked, rushed to apologize, coaxed him back—whether or not I was at fault.

But this time, I said nothing.

Minutes passed. I didn't move.

Eventually, he grew impatient. He turned around, ready to scold me—

Only to find me already asleep, my back to him.

Anger flashed across his face. He grabbed my shoulder roughly and flipped me over, about to yell—

Then, he froze.

My cheeks were unnaturally flushed. My skin burned under his touch.

"You have a fever?"

A pause. Then his voice turned suspicious.

"...You're not faking this to mess with me, are you?"