Melodramatic Romance の短編小説 &BiasAwakening小説

My wife, Carla Clayton, suddenly develops a serious illness, so I rush to the hospital to donate a kidney to her. But the anesthesia wears off, and I hear Carla tell the nurse, Betty Farrell, to throw the kidney they've removed from me into the trash can after surgery. Unable to bear watching this, Betty says, "Carla, I know your husband, Trevor Draper, refused to throw the match and surrender the championship title back then. "And that drove your first love, Ivan Huston, to jump off a building, leaving him partially paralyzed. But surely you wouldn't go so far as to betray Trevor's love for you just to get back at him, would you?" Carla lets out a sigh. "Trevor was the one who wronged Ivan first, and I promised Ivan I would get justice for him 99 times." "But aren't you afraid Trevor will divorce you if you keep doing this?" "As long as none of you tells him, he won't find out. There are only three times left anyway. Once I've repaid this debt, I'll spend the rest of my life treating Trevor well to make it up to him." My heart turns ice-cold. Since Carla loves Ivan so much, I'll walk away and let them have each other.

On the eve of my wedding, my friends threw a joint bachelor and bachelorette party for Natalie Cole and me at a bar. After a few rounds of drinks, someone suggested a game of Truth or Dare. The bottle landed on me first. My younger brother, Kayden Wilson, grinned. "I dare you to take off your pants. Let's see what you've got." The whole table immediately erupted in cheers. I glanced at Natalie, but she kept her head down and continued scrolling through her phone without a word. Hence, I took off my pants and stood there in nothing but my underwear. In the second round, the bottle landed on me again. My sister, Hannah Wilson, raised her glass and asked half-jokingly, "Logan, I dare you to admit you're pathetic enough that you can't live without a woman." My face burned, but everyone was staring at me, waiting to see if I'd ruin the mood. I closed my eyes and said hoarsely, "I admit it." Eventually, the bottle landed on Natalie. Her friend, Veronica Reed, grinned. "I dare you to tell your soon-to-be hubby what you were doing behind everyone's back last night." Natalie paused for two seconds before she looked at Benjamin Henderson beside her, her eyes full of affection. "He got drunk and insisted I take him back to his hotel. Then he threw up all over himself, so I helped him shower and changed him into his pajamas. He said he didn't want to sleep alone, so I held him until morning," she revealed. The private room fell silent for a moment before suggestive laughter erupted around the table. Benjamin playfully tickled her and scolded her for embarrassing him by revealing his secrets. But I stood there frozen, unable to say a word. Finally, Veronica pointed toward the little quickie wedding chapel attached to the bar. "Then I dare you to take Benjamin over there, get married, and have it annulled afterward." Benjamin's eyes lit up as he looked at Natalie. I looked at her too. Natalie gave an exasperated smile, took his hand, and walked toward the chapel as the crowd cheered them on. At that moment, I suddenly felt there was no point in going through with our wedding the day after tomorrow.

My girlfriend, Quinn Simmons, my best friend, Seth Johnson, and I were one the outs. When I apologized to Quinn, she just fingered her nails. Then I tried to talk to Seth. He scrolled through his phone and turned a deaf ear to me. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I begged for their forgiveness, but my efforts were fruitless. In high school, Quinn and Seth asked me which electives I intended to take. Seth gave me the cold shoulder for a whole month after I chose the same electives as Quinn. Seth threw the 20 apology letters that I wrote for him into the trash, saying, "I don't really care. You two are a couple. I'm not forcing you to choose the same electives with me." During our university days, both Quinn and Seth rented places off campus and asked me to move in with them. When I chose Seth, Quinn chased me out of her place with a frosty expression, saying, “Go find your new roommate. Just leave me alone.” Quinn's disregard lasted two months. I kept chasing after her, trying to coax her the whole time. One day, I accidentally tumbled down the stairs. My whole body shook as I clutched my injured leg, but Quinn didn’t even spare me a single glance. She just stepped over me. Ten minutes ago, we were choosing a movie to watch. Quinn wanted to watch a sci-fi film, while Seth wanted to watch a romance movie. They asked me to choose again. In the end, after I chose a comedy, they spent the entire time ignoring me and chatting among themselves. "I want to watch a romance movie," Seth said while looking at Quinn. "It's fine if you don't." Quinn scoffed. "Can you watch something logical for once? What's so interesting about a romance movie anyway?" As Seth rolled his eyes, a flash of panic flickered across Quinn's eyes. She sighed and said, "Fine. We'll watch whatever you want to watch." I stood rooted to the spot, clutching the three tickets for the comedy movie. Suddenly, I didn't feel like watching the movie anymore.

Seren Grant is extremely protective of her personal space. We've been dating for three years, yet I still don't have the access code to her apartment. Whenever I want to spend the night at her place, I have to let her know in advance. She always came downstairs to let me in herself. She says it's about maintaining boundaries, and I respect that. Until one day, I arrive early and am just about to call her when the elevator doors open. Her colleague, William Baker, swipes his key card to get through the security entrance. Then, he presses his fingerprint against the lock on her apartment door. The door opens. When he turns around to see me, he freezes for a moment. "What are you doing here? Seren said tonight isn't a good time." When I ask him how he has access to her fingerprint lock, he simply responds, "I registered my fingerprint last year. I come over often to feed her cat." She never even told me she had a cat. She said she was allergic to cat fur and couldn't have pets. Using that excuse, she turned down my suggestions that we get a cat together three separate times. Later, when I came across William's social media posts, I learned that she'd given him the cat as a birthday present. I deleted all the messages I had sent to Seren asking her for permission to visit. Seren Grant, your boundaries only ever apply to me. Meanwhile, he's had a place in your home all along.

My girlfriend was known for being frugal and extremely stingy. When the chicken drumstick I loved went up by a dime, she decided they were too expensive and stopped buying them. When I got sick, she thought drinking warm water would be enough to make me better. Even the marriage certificate's nine-dollar processing fee was too much for her. She thought it was a waste of money. When the marriage certificate finally became free to acquire, I put on the only discounted suit she had been willing to buy for me and arrived at the city hall two hours early. I was eagerly waiting for her. Instead, from a distance, I saw her sitting by the lake with Henry, the male assistant she had hired six months earlier. A street photographer approached with a camera and asked if my girlfriend wanted some photos. Each photo cost a hundred dollars. I thought she would refuse on the spot, curse him for overcharging, and walk away. But she glanced at Henry beside her and said, "Henry, come to think of it, we've never taken a photo together. How about we take some?" Henry waved it off and said it was too expensive. The photographer quickly added that there would be a discount if they took more pictures. My girlfriend calmly retrieved her phone and transferred one grand to him. "No discount needed. Take a hundred photos of me and my junior. Put them in an album." I silently watched as my girlfriend and Henry posed intimately for a hundred photos. The time we'd agreed to meet finally arrived. My phone lit up. [I asked around. Although the marriage certificate itself is free now, we still need to take three ID photos. That's at least twenty dollars. That's enough to pay for one of our meals. Besides, getting the certificate is just a formality. We can still spend our whole lives together without it.] I quietly typed out a reply. [Okay. Let's not get married then.] I didn't want her anymore either.

My CEO fiancee, Lexi Wyndham, had no patience for incompetence, yet she repeatedly made excuses for her incompetent assistant, Lachlan Hayes. During the hiring process, she noticed that his profile looked remarkably similar to mine. Worried that our rivals might target me, she kept him on as my double, someone who could take my place whenever I was in danger. She bought him designer clothes, took him to exclusive events, and even put my projects under his name to build up his reputation. As time went on, she grew increasingly protective of him, insisting it was all so he would be willing to take my place when the time came. Then tensions with our rival company escalated. Lexi would rather send the bodyguards assigned to protect her to me than let Lachlan stand in for me. In the end, our rivals kidnapped me and locked me in a basement, where they tortured me for ten straight days. By the time I was rescued, there was not a part of me that was not badly injured. I had nearly died down there. The next day, Lachlan was diagnosed with liver disease. Lexi drugged me and forced me into the operating room to donate my liver to him. Her voice was gentle. "Lachlan has to be saved for the moment we truly need him to stand in for you. We can't use him too soon, or they'll get suspicious and everything we've done will be for nothing. "He has to stay alive until the day we need him. I'm making you donate your liver for your own good. Don't overthink it. Once you're discharged, I'll marry you." But she did not know how badly I had been injured. The liver donation only made my condition worse, and I was already dying. I would not live long enough to see the wedding she had promised me.

Damon Westbrook was kidnapped and held in the mountains for three months, subjected to every kind of humiliation. Three hellish months ground away every bit of fight he had. After his rescue, he developed severe PTSD. He hurt himself. He tried to end his life. Nightmares came every night. Through it all, Eleanor Carrington never left his side, holding him and comforting him again and again. "Damon, I'll always be here. When you're better, we'll get married." To help him heal, Eleanor brought back Marcus Keane, a former upperclassman of hers in college, who was finishing his doctorate in psychology overseas. The first time Damon met Marcus, he seemed calm and gentle, considerate in every way. "Don't be afraid. Eleanor and I will make sure you recover completely." Damon was deeply grateful. He cooperated with every treatment. Even when the sessions left him wishing he were dead, he gritted his teeth and endured. He believed everyone was doing everything they could to save him. Until tonight. The sliding glass door to the balcony hadn't closed all the way, and two low voices carried clearly to him. Eleanor and Marcus. Marcus took out a cigarette, his tone light. "When my research hit a dead end, I had no choice but to come to you for help. I never expected—" Eleanor turned her back to the wind and lit it for him. "Once the experiment is done, your dissertation is guaranteed to win the top international award." Marcus exhaled a stream of smoke and chuckled. "I only said in passing that a real case would be nice. I never thought you'd arrange a kidnapping yourself—let alone the kidnapping of the man you're about to marry."

We're playing "Never Have I Ever" at a bachelor party when my girlfriend, Veronica Smith, draws a card that reads, "I have never betrayed my best friend." The moment her words fall, the room freezes as if someone hit pause. Everyone looks at me at the same time. Three seconds later, they wordlessly pick up the drinks in front of them and down them in unison. I am the sole winner of this round, which means I get to ask the losers a truth question or give them a dare. Hence, without hesitation, I ask, "How did you betray your friend?" To my surprise, everyone remains dead silent. My close friend, Ian Lachlan, is about to take his punishment shot when Veronica, who has been silent for a long time, holds his hand down and looks at me. "Don't make things difficult for them. I'll tell you. The truth is, I've been with Ian for five years. I'm pregnant, and I can't let our unborn child be illegitimate." In an instant, tears well up in his eyes, and he can't even bring himself to look at me. Bridget Rochelle, my cousin, also comes clean. "To be honest, we've known all along. Ian and Veronica tied the knot in their hometown last year, and we all attended their wedding. Your adoptive parents accepted it too. They just asked us not to tell you for the time being." At that moment, the party lights hit my eyes, and everyone's faces blur. Their confessions echo in my ears, one after another. Turns out, for seven years, I've been living a lie.

On the third meeting with his girlfriend’s parents, Sebastian Haynes, received another text from his childhood friend, Kylie Miller. “I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Tucker. Something came up. I gotta leave now.” Melanie Tucker reached out and grabbed his arm, whispering, “Do you really have to leave right now? My parents spent so much time on dinner. At least eat something before you go.” He placed his phone in front of her. Kylie’s message was a short “It’s getting foggy.” “This is our code,” he said, his tone dead serious, as if Kylie would die if he didn’t show up at once. “Kylie struggles with severe depression. Whenever she’s on the edge, she sends this to me. I promised her that once she sends this line, no matter what I’m doing, I’ll drop everything and go to her. No exceptions.” “Can’t you go after dinner?” Melanie pleaded. “It’ll take two hours at most.” “Melanie, Kylie doesn’t send the code out of whim. It means she’s at her breaking point. I won’t be able to live with the regret if anything happens. I’m sorry.” He looked toward her parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I’ll make it up to you another day.” He walked out without looking back even once. The front door slammed shut with a heavy bang, startling her parents. “Did something happen? Sebastian left in such a rush.” Melanie forced a faint smile as she stared at the untouched roast beef and dinner spread on the table. Over five years, Kylie had sent Sebastian that same “It’s getting foggy” message hundreds of times. Whenever they were out on movie dates and he got her text, he would leave halfway through. On New Year’s Eve, just as they were waiting for the firework show, he had abandoned her for Kylie’s sake. One time when Melanie was burning with a 104-degree fever, he had left her lying limply in bed and bolted into the night to find Kylie.

Ruth Jensen is determined to cure Zeke Carlton of his jealous streak. Every time he gets jealous, she buys her assistant, Calvin Ward, a present—everything from jewelry to expensive cars to villas. Zeke goes from throwing hysterical fits to going completely numb. One day, Ruth buys Calvin gifts for the 99th time. She looks at Zeke, who's shaking all over, his face drained of color. She says disdainfully, "Zeke, I can't stand men who are jealous and possessive. If you never learn to be generous and graceful, then I'll just keep treating Calvin well." But this time, Zeke doesn't question her like he usually does, nor does he ask her for money. He's actually gone to the office to pick something up today. To his surprise, he walks right into Ruth throwing a birthday celebration for Calvin there. The place is crammed full of gifts she's gotten Calvin, piled so high there's barely room to walk. At the door, a few workers are hauling in boxes while gossiping. "Careful. These are all this season's new releases Ms. Jensen bought for Mr. Ward. If we break anything, we'll never be able to pay it back!" "How many times has it been this month? Every time Ms. Jensen does this, she buys him stuff worth millions of dollars…" Zeke feels like someone has sliced his heart open. Every time he asks Ruth for money to keep paying his grandmother's medical bills, she always complains. Yet she doesn't even bat an eye when she buys Calvin these insanely expensive luxury goods. Zeke turns to leave, but Ruth frowns and calls out to him. "Are you actually stalking me all the way to the office now? It's Cal's birthday today. Did you deliberately come here dressed like that just to be an eyesore?"

In my past life, Noah Luther, my brother, runs away from his engagement. The bride, Julia Zimmerman, shows no resentment and simply switches the arrangement to me right on the spot. She is courteous and thoughtful toward me after the wedding, but that all changes when Noah crosses someone abroad and has his limbs crushed. She actually spends the whole night in the study after learning of that incident. I assume Julia is worried about my safety when she sends over a dozen bodyguards to me the following day, a gesture that touches me deeply. I suddenly lose consciousness out of nowhere the next day. Then, I get abducted to an abandoned factory and have my hands and legs crushed bit by bit. It's so painful that I try to bite my tongue to commit suicide from the agonizing pain. Julia walks in slowly, looks at my condition, and says wistfully, "So that's how much pain he went through back then." When Noah trips and falls during rehabilitation and loses a tooth, Julia violently pulls out my tooth with pliers that very same night. She looks at my bloody mouth and says calmly that she's only doing this for my sake since I eat too much. Soon after, I "happen" to fall down the stairs when Noah sprains his back, forcing me to stay in bed for three months. Julia even breaks a cup and drives the shards into my hand when Noah accidentally slices his finger while chopping vegetables. Noah later dies in a car accident abroad. Julia drags me to a bridge over the river and jumps off with me, saying, "You're just a stand-in for him. He's dead now, so you shouldn't live either." I open my eyes and find myself back on the day Julia arrives to talk about the wedding arrangement. Noah has already fled through the back door, so she looks at me coldly and says, "I'll marry you, then." I merely smile and say, "I'm already in love with someone else, so please find another person for this marriage, Ms. Zimmerman."

Rhys Lockhart, a brash and unruly trust-fund heir, comes back home from abroad and discovers he's already been married off without his consent. His bride is Elara Waverly, the head of Waverly Corp, and a full eight years older than him. Rhys naturally wants no part of it. So, when he hears she's the disciplined, immaculate type with a serious thing about cleanliness, he makes a point of it. He shows up in ripped streetwear and a backward baseball cap, a row of silver studs lining his ear. His parents turn red with embarrassment and move to apologize, but Elara simply leans forward with quiet composure, her slender fingers gently steadying them. Her voice is cool and clear. "This arrangement already asks too much of Mr. Lockhart. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me." Rhys freezes, and he slowly lifts his head. Beneath the cool detachment in her gaze, her amber eyes are filled with warmth.

“Milana, did you secretly marry Miles Garrett while abroad? Does Ernest know about this?" Milana Orr was just touching up her lipstick and staring at her striking reflection in the mirror. Then, she remarked in an utterly unconcerned voice, "Oh, leave it already. I’ve got the call on speakerphone." Her best friend, Clarice Rivers, dropped her voice to a sharp whisper, "Is Ernest with you?" Milana smiled, then turned around to glance at Ernest, who was seated on the couch and waiting for her to finish getting ready. She smiled coyly, "Yeah, he’s sitting right behind me, but it's fine. It's not like he can hear us anyway." After a brief silence, Clarice spoke again, in a slightly sharper tone this time, "He lost his hearing and became disabled because he tried to save you when you tried to end it all by jumping into the river." "That’s exactly why I went and got married overseas instead." A complex look surfaced in Milana's voice as she cut Clarice off. "But I'm going to stay right here in the country, and we’re going to have a grand wedding together in a week. "That's my way of repaying him for taking care of me over the last five years. "As for the actual marriage license... Well, let’s just forget about that for now." Meanwhile, Ernest was clutching the edges of the magazine so tightly the paper crumpled.

My best friend and my girlfriend's graduation trip vlog blew up online, racking up millions of likes. The comments were full of people swooning over their picture-perfect love story. Someone finally asked who the guy sitting quietly in the corner was. Suzanna Jones replied to the comment: [Just some random guy. I don't know him.] When I sent her a screenshot, she explained impatiently. "You stutter when you talk. Putting you on camera would only make you look ridiculous. "Elliot and I are only pretending to be a couple so he can make enough money to pay for his mom's medical treatment, so stop getting jealous over nothing." For the past year, I had practiced speaking to my phone every single day, all for the relationship-announcement video she had promised we would make. Now, I could finally speak without stuttering. However, she did not know that, because she had not been patient enough to listen to me in a long time. Just like now. Before I could say a word, she turned and walked away, hand in hand with Elliot Walker, stepping straight back into her camera frame. During their seven-day trip, Elliot filmed thirty-two videos. She appeared in every single one. She patiently listened to him ramble about anything and everything, never letting a single thing he said go unanswered. The last part of my heart that had been fighting to hold on finally went quiet. I lowered my head and deleted the relationship-announcement I had practiced hundreds of times. If I was nothing more than a background extra in her world, then so be it. She would not have a part in the of my life anymore.

After Yvonne Preston's childhood sweetheart, Oliver Emerson, hits someone while drunk driving, she gets on her knees and begs me to take the fall for him. "Ollie's father saved my life. Can't you endure this for my sake? Once you get out, we'll get married." I nod with tears in my eyes, only to discover after entering prison that my two-month sentence has been turned into six years. I attempt to retract my statement, but all I get in return is a brutal beating. "We've been told to keep a close eye on you. Who the hell do you think you are? You should take a good look at yourself before you start thinking you have a chance with Ms. Preston!" I'm beaten until my eyes are red and swollen, and the last thing I see before I lose consciousness is Yvonne holding Oliver's hand on television as they announce their engagement. My heart turns to stone, and after six agonizing years that feel like an eternity, I'm finally released from prison. However, as I quietly board the train with my luggage, Yvonne's assistant, Juliette Parker, appears in front of me. "Ms. Preston wishes to see you, Mr. Clark," she says respectfully.

On the day I sold my house, my best friend asked me. “Aren’t you getting married soon? Why are you selling your new home?” I signed the transfer agreement and replied, “Because I’m breaking up with him.” We were supposed to buy a particular couch for our new home. Caleb Graham said he had not managed to snag it yet, so he asked me to wait a little longer. Then, I saw that very couch in Claire Silva’s Stories. She had specifically tagged Caleb. [It’s the one I’ve been waiting for so long! He still knows me so well!] In the comments section, Caleb simply replied, [Don’t mention it.] That was followed by a bunch of trivial chatter between the two of them. I stared at that Stories post for a long time. Then, I canceled the order for the matching pajamas. I scrolled back through my order history. I had ordered over a hundred packages. They were all for furnishing our new home. At first, Caleb would enthusiastically pick things out with me. Later on, he did not even bother to reply to my messages. It was because Claire, his first love, had gotten divorced. His attention toward me and our new home had shifted elsewhere. “If a buyer contacts us, I’ll let you know right away.” The real estate agent slid his business card across the table. I reached out to take it. Then, I cast one last glance at this place. ‘Caleb, I admit that I regret it,’ I thought. Seven years had passed, and I no longer wanted to build a home with him.

During a parent-child activity at kindergarten, the teacher asks the children to draw what they want to be when they grow up. The other kids draw princesses, dinosaurs, and astronauts, but my five-year-old son, Evan Jepsen, draws a cell phone. Across its screen, he's written a message in crooked letters. "Incoming call from Annette." "Why do you want to be a phone?" the teacher asks, puzzled. "Because Daddy loves his phone more than anything," Evan replies earnestly. "When Mommy asks him to come to dinner, he gets annoyed. But whenever Annette calls, he smiles right away." The classroom falls silent, and I stand frozen in place. "Once, Mommy had a fever of 102°F, but Daddy said he was busy and couldn't take her to the hospital," Evan continues. "But when Annette said her stomach hurt, he canceled a really important meeting and carried her to the car himself. "One day it was raining, and Daddy promised to pick me up. But then Annette called, and he made Mommy and me get out of the car. "Daddy said Annette's brother saved his life a long time ago, so he promised to take care of her forever." Evan looks up at me, his voice growing softer. "If Daddy wants to repay Annette's brother, why are we always the ones he leaves behind? "If I become Daddy's phone… would he hold me all the time too? Would he listen to me when I talk, just like he always listens to Annette on the phone?" I pull him into my arms and wipe away my tears. "Sweetheart, you don't have to become a phone," I choke out. "I'll take you away from your daddy, who never seems to notice us anyway."

On the very first day of our marriage, Jasper Clarke, a renowned gynecologist, laid down his terms. "My time can mean life or death for my patients. You can't afford to waste it. I may not be able to be there for you day to day, but I'll set aside half a day every month just for you. That's the most I can offer." I understood how demanding his job was, so I nodded and agreed. From then on, I ate alone, went to doctor's appointments alone, and spent my days in an empty house. I never once disturbed Jasper. That changed in my third month of pregnancy, when I began showing signs of a threatened miscarriage. For the first time, I booked a specialist appointment with Jasper. The moment I pushed open the door to his office, his smile froze. "What are you doing here? Get out! Don't take up a spot another patient needs!" Before I could say a word, he called in the next patient. A young pregnant woman walked in behind me, carrying a bouquet of white jasmine. She sat down beside Jasper. As the door closed, I saw him stand up, his left hand resting at her waist and his right hand covering hers as he took the bouquet. I waited outside for four hours, but Jasper never called in another patient. A nurse came over to inform me. "Ms. Wells is Dr. Clarke's VIP patient. He saves every Wednesday for her. If you're not feeling well, I can help you make an appointment with another doctor." My phone lit up with a calendar reminder. The half-day I had been looking forward to all month would be over in five minutes. My hand stilled against my lower abdomen. Suddenly, I could not feel the pain anymore. After a long moment of silence, I spoke softly. "I'd like to schedule an abortion."

My dad may be an idiot, but he's loaded. I may be useless at everything, but at least I'm pretty. My older sister, Yvonne Quinn, is the only smart one in the family. She has grand ambitions, so she has no interest in inheriting our little family business. In the end, Dad makes the call and picks the poorest but most even-tempered guy among the top-ranking students to marry me and join the Quinn family. As it turns out, Dad has an excellent eye for people. Yannick Jordan really is the perfect husband. He's strikingly handsome and refined, gentle and patient by nature, and thoughtful and attentive in everything he does. In just two years, he becomes a rising star in the business world, and I become the Mrs. Jordan everyone envies. But he has one fatal flaw: he's far too devoted to his career. Once our honeymoon is over, I'm left enduring two long years of a marriage in name only. If I want to see him, I have to book an appointment a month in advance. If I want to have dinner with him, I have to wait until he's done with countless meetings, business engagements, and negotiations. But Yvonne never has to wait. After all, she and Yannick aren't just partners in a joint venture. They're also trusted allies who always have each other's backs. Together, they weather malicious schemes from rival companies, survive the darkest days of a financial crisis, and work side by side through countless nights until dawn breaks. Everyone praises them as an unbeatable power couple in the business world, a match made in heaven who seem unstoppable together. But I'm the only one who feels like a thorn between them.

On the day of our fifth anniversary, I got into a fight with my boyfriend, Tyrus Aberg. My best friend, Claire Dawson, sent me a screenshot. [Proxy Girlfriend: Thirty Days] Below it was Tyrus' reply. [Approved.] Every time we fought, Tyrus would deliberately have Claire act as his proxy girlfriend. He said I only dared to pick fights with him because I felt too secure in the relationship. He figured that as long as Claire got close to him and made me feel threatened, I would get jealous and tearfully beg him to reconcile. Three years ago, after one argument, he and Claire changed to matching couple profile pictures. "You've got one day to think it over. She'll be my proxy girlfriend for now. I'll only reconcile with you when you apologize." One day turned into three days. What started as switching profile pictures escalated into dates, hand-holding, and hugging. The last time I refused to cave for a whole week, he moved in with Claire. Claire spent the night wearing his shirt and showed up to parties with him as his girlfriend. He said, "You'll only feel jealous when Claire becomes my proxy girlfriend. "She's your best friend. No matter how close she and I get, it doesn't count as cheating." After this fight, he extended Claire's stint as his proxy girlfriend to a full month. A video call came in right after. "Lay-lay, it's your fifth anniversary today. "If you don't apologize soon, I'll be the one going home with Tyrus to meet his parents this Thanksgiving." On the other end, friends started laughing and counting down. They were all waiting for me to get jealous, cry, and beg Tyrus to reconcile, just like always. But I just left the three-person "Proxy Girlfriend" group chat. [A month is too short.] [Make it permanent this time.]