How To Strengthen Emotional Connection With My Boyfriend?

Is it LOVE? Really? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Two brothers separated by fate, and now fate brought them back together. What will happen to them? How do they unlock the questions behind their separation? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My fiance, Wayne Garner, has a rare condition called hyper-empathy syndrome. Yet somehow, I'm the only person he cannot empathize with. When I develop acute gastroenteritis and the cramps become unbearable, I force myself to call Wayne and beg him to take me to the hospital. After listening to me, Wayne simply says, "Andrea has a slight cold. I have to take her to the hospital first. Hang in there." I remember during our first family dinner, Andrea Graham calls him and says she's feeling down, and he rushes off to be with her. I instantly tell him we should break up, but he grabs my hand and keeps promising it will never happen again. After that, he does keep his promise and stops responding to Andrea's requests for help. I secretly rejoice, believing that staying by his side long enough will eventually correct his misplaced empathy. But now, the same thing happens all over again. The pain in my abdomen keeps getting worse, leaving me with no choice but to dial the emergency number with trembling hands. While I'm in the ambulance, an Instagram notification pops up. Andrea has posted a photo of herself with Wayne at the hospital. The caption reads, "It's only a minor cold, yet someone still takes the time to bring me to the hospital. It feels so nice to be someone's top priority." Another wave of sharp cramps passes. I look at the job offer from Warler in my inbox and accept it. Wayne, I'm really leaving you this time.

I had stayed up all night to get the merchandise. It was then callously discarded by my boyfriend. On that stormy day, I knelt beside a dumpster and searched through bags of trash. Yarden Scott stopped in his tracks. “What are you looking for?” “My merch.” I did not look up. “I reminded you three times. It was in the left drawer of the sideboard.” His shirt was soaked from the rain. He subconsciously said, “Yvonne’s car broke down. I went to pick her up. I forgot.” He forgot. Last week, he threw away the commemorative ticket stubs I had stayed up all night organizing because he thought they were scraps of paper. The month before, he threw away the brooch my grandmother left me because he thought it was an old button. Every single time, he brushed it off with the same excuse. I gave a mocking smile. “You always remember everything when it comes to Yvonne, don’t you?” Yarden carefully wiped the hair tie Yvonne Jordan had left behind and answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s your best friend. That means I have to treat her very well. “If I keep her happy, our relationship will last. Isn’t it all for your sake?” I watched his practiced movements and felt completely drained. I could not say another word. I had reminded him countless times before not to touch the drawers in my study. He ignored me and threw away my collection of rare stamps. I told him again and again that I was allergic to mangoes. At a group dinner, he still ordered a mango shake for me. But when Yvonne casually mentioned that she had trouble sleeping, he started sending her music to help her sleep every single day. If Yvonne wanted to eat at her favorite restaurant, he would pull every string he could to get a reservation. To him, everything about me was a burden. Everything about Yvonne was worth his time. If that were the case, then I should not bother him any longer.

I come across an announcement while scrolling through my social media feed. The suspense thriller that my boyfriend, Thomas Sheridan, and I didn't get to watch in the movie theaters is now available for streaming. Remembering that Thomas has a subscription to the streaming service, I ask him for his login details. However, Thomas rejects my request. "I don't like sharing my streaming history. Besides, you're always watching those brainless romance flicks. I don't want the app to recommend those movies to me." My heart twists painfully upon hearing his words. I silently fork out 100 dollars to pay for my own annual subscription. When the afternoon rolls around, I stop by my best friend, Lydia Wakeford's place to grab some things. She's curled up on the couch, watching a show on her tablet when I arrive. A notification suddenly pops up on the screen. "Your progress is being synced with the main account, 'Tom.'" I'm briefly stunned before I ask, "Are you using Thomas' account?" "That's right. He gave me his login details when I asked. He must have agreed to my request because of you. I'm so lucky." Their lists of recommendations and streaming histories are neatly displayed on the tablet. Thomas isn't willing to share his personal sanctuary with me, but he has already welcomed another into it with open arms. During dinner, I'm just about to tell Thomas and Lydia how I want to spend my birthday tomorrow when I hear them talking about movies. "The movie that we watched a few days ago is still playing in the movie theaters, Tom," Lydia says. "Why don't the three of us watch it together? What do you think?" Thomas places his fork down and nods. "Sure. But Riley's scared of horror movies. It'll be better if it's just the two of us." "Alright then," Lydia says, sounding a little regretful. "I'll watch a romance movie with you next time, Riley." I nod silently. Thomas and Lydia continue to discuss movies as they sit at the dining table. Neither of them remembers that it's my birthday tomorrow. I suddenly feel like I'm the onlooker who's watching their romance unfold.

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

My boyfriend goes viral after uploading a video of him being lovey-dovey with a woman. Everyone praises him for being handsome and a good boyfriend, but I don't even have the courage to like the video. Why? Because the woman in the video isn't me.