My boyfriend proposed to me but called the wrong name

Chapter 1

At the proposal party, my boyfriend, Alex, knelt down on one knee, holding flowers and a huge diamond ring, and confessed his love to me.

“Sarah, marry me!”

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone gasped.

Alex froze, his face full of regret for calling the wrong name.

I heard his “one true love”, Sarah, laughing nearby.

I pulled her onto the stage.

“You want to propose to her? Go ahead! You two are so in love, I’m totally shipping you guys!”

Earlier last month was my grandpa’s 80th birthday.

I told Alex two months in advance that he absolutely had to be there.

But he still stood me up.

Because his “one true love”, Sarah’s, hamster had diarrhea.

He took care of it all night, so he couldn’t make it to the birthday party.

I roared at him in anger.

He frowned, looking at me coldly, his expression clearly blaming me for being unreasonable.

“Jessica, can you be a little understanding? It’s just a birthday party. That hamster is Sarah’s baby, and it was sick. How could I just ignore it?”

We had a cold war for a month because of this.

This morning, Alex had the flower shop send me a bouquet.

There was a card on it that said “Happy Birthday, see you at the Western restaurant tonight.”

My colleagues were all envious.

I picked up the card expressionlessly and casually gave the flowers to a curious colleague.

I’m allergic to pollen; after so many years, Alex still hadn’t taken that to heart.

But I still softened; I knew he was offering me an olive branch.

After all, we’d been together for so many years; he knew me too well.

Every time we argued or had a cold war, as long as he made the first move, I would calm down.

He thought I was easy to coax.

Actually, it was because I loved him, I cherished this relationship, that I turned a blind eye.

We had been together for eight whole years; he had completely integrated into my life.

He was also certain that I couldn’t bear to leave him, so he dared to do those things that hurt me.

It was my fault for being so spineless, for loving him so humbly.

But now, seeing these flowers, this card.

I felt nothing.

If it had been before, I would have been very excited.

After all, he never remembered my birthday, our anniversary.

Every year, for my birthday, our anniversary, I had to remind him constantly for a long time in advance.

And this time, I hadn’t even thought about it myself.

But he remembered and even booked a table at a Western restaurant.

I thought I would be happy.

But I wasn’t.

There was even a hint of annoyance.

I wondered what tricks his “one true love” would use to lure him away tonight.

I arrived at the Western restaurant fifteen minutes early.

As expected, Alex hadn’t shown up yet.

He was always late for our dates; I was used to it.

An hour passed.

I looked at the time; he was forty-five minutes late.

He still hadn’t broken his longest record of being five hours late.

Two more hours passed.

The waiter apologetically reminded me that they were about to close.

I returned an apologetic smile and ordered the most expensive steak in the restaurant.

Accompanied by melodious violin music, I calmly finished the steak.

I left before the restaurant closed.

While waiting for a taxi on the side of the road, I absentmindedly opened my social media feed.

Alex had posted a photo of Sarah holding a puppy with a birthday hat on its head.

The caption read: “Beans is one year old!”

Seeing the photo, I felt neither anger nor hatred.

I just admired Sarah.

But it wasn’t her fault.

It takes two to tango.

Alex had to be willing to be wrapped around her little finger.

I generously liked the post.

I got in a taxi and went home.

I had lost count of how many times Alex had stood me up.

Given a choice, he always went to Sarah without hesitation.

I had broken down, gone crazy, and raged.

But this time, why wasn’t I sad at all?

Chapter 2

After returning home, I opened the door, and the house was pitch black.

Obviously, Alex hadn’t come home.

Facing the empty house, I felt an inexplicable sense of relief.

In the middle of the night, I was woken up by the sound of the fingerprint lock opening the door.

I was a light sleeper with no sense of security.

In the past, when Alex came home late at night, I would struggle to get out of bed and take his briefcase and suit jacket.

I would ask him if he was hungry and if he needed a late-night snack.

After Sarah returned to the country and came between us.

I would smell the strong perfume of a woman on Alex’s coat.

I would immediately turn into a shrew, yelling and arguing with him.

And his response to me was silence and coming home later and later.

I had several mental breakdowns, but he didn’t care, watching from the sidelines.

He let me pick up the pieces of my broken heart and pretend nothing had happened.

Just muddling through.

Thinking back, I was really pathetic.

Now I’d figured it out, and I decided to let it go.

That look of tears, emotional breakdown, screaming and yelling when Alex came home late.

It must have been disgusting.

Thankfully, it wouldn’t happen again.

It was over, all over.

As I thought about it, I felt sleepy again.

As sleepiness washed over me, I heard Alex softly call my name.

“Jessica?”

I was too sleepy to respond and fell asleep.

It was the best sleep I’d had in a long time.

A kind of relief from unloading all burdens.

The next morning, I got up, grabbed an iced coffee from the fridge, and went straight to work.

No more playing the doting wife, making him a loving breakfast.

I focused on my work all day and didn’t touch my phone.

After work, I finally opened WeChat.

As expected, there wasn’t a single message from Alex.

I went to the food court and packed fried chicken and spicy salad to take home.

As soon as I entered the door, Alex, who hadn’t come home on time in ages, was actually sitting on the sofa.

Seeing me come back with takeout, he frowned in displeasure.

“Is this all you’re eating for dinner? It’s not healthy.”

I shrugged indifferently and said, “I like it, that’s all that matters.”

Alex saw me open the fried chicken and spicy salad, and there was only one pair of chopsticks.

He understood there was no portion for him.

Seemingly realizing that I was still upset because of yesterday, he took the initiative to explain to me.

“Something came up yesterday. It’s not what you think, I…”

I bit into a chicken leg, found my comfort show, and didn’t want him to disturb my happy dinner time.

“I know, it’s fine.”

I casually brushed him off and clicked play.

Alex thought I was still sulking. He paused the TV, walked up to me, and looked down at me.

I looked up to meet his gaze, calmly and without anger.

He didn’t expect me to be so calm, not like the old me.

He had been prepared for a storm, but the waves never came.

I waited for him to speak first, but he said nothing.

Finally, I, feeling sorry for the fried chicken and spicy salad, took the initiative to speak: “What do you want to say? The fried chicken and spicy salad won’t be good when they’re cold.”

A flash of surprise crossed Alex’s eyes, which quickly disappeared. He sneered, thinking this was some new trick I had learned.

“I’ve already explained. Why are you still dwelling on it?”

He was so strange; I had already said it was fine.

Who was dwelling on it?

“I believe you, I understand. Can I continue eating now?”

Alex was choked by my words, his face full of anger.

“What about my dinner?”

Hearing him ask so self-righteously, I had to look up at him again.

“Don’t you think this is unhealthy? Then order some healthy takeout for yourself.”

Of course, I wouldn’t play the mommy role and prepare a healthy and delicious nutritious dinner for him anymore.

“Jessica!”

Alex slammed the table and roared, then realized his attitude was wrong and softened his tone to explain, “You know, Sarah just came back, her parents passed away, leaving her all alone. It’s not easy for a young girl, so what’s wrong with me helping her a little?”

“Just for a birthday, you’re making a fuss? Are you going to die before next year? Won’t you be able to celebrate your birthday next year?”

Hearing him say that, my chopsticks paused over the glass noodles.

What vicious words.

It was a good thing I didn’t love him anymore; otherwise, I would be heartbroken again.

“I understand, I know.”

My light words were like a punch landing on cotton.

Unable to vent his anger, he took it out on a nearby vase.

He punched the vase on the cabinet, and with a bang, slammed the door and left.

I looked at the scattered ceramic shards and said slowly to his back:

“You made the mess, you clean it up!”

Chapter 3

Unsurprisingly, Alex and I were in another cold war.

Before, every time we had a cold war, I would be restless and mentally exhausted.

But now, I felt very relaxed.

For the first few days, Alex stayed out all night in a huff.

I felt like I was back to my single life, watching dramas and eating late-night snacks after work every day.

I didn’t have to worry about whether Alex was with Sarah again and coming home late.

A few days later, Alex came home on his own.

But he still didn’t talk to me and even angrily slept in the guest room.

Not having to share a bed with him made me incredibly happy.

I no longer had to hand-wash his clothes, painstakingly match his suits and ties.

And I didn’t have to get up early to make him a nutritious breakfast.

I used the time I used to make him breakfast to put on beautiful makeup before going to work.

During this time, my colleagues all said that my condition had visibly improved.

They gossiped and asked if something good was about to happen.

Only I knew that I had escaped from a cage.

After work, I no longer had to rush home just to make him dinner.

I had plenty of time to go shopping and hang out with my best friends.

My best friends all sighed in relief that I was finally no longer love-struck.

I had been with Alex for eight years.

I willingly confined myself for eight years.

My goal used to be to take care of our little home.

I devoted myself entirely to the family, to Alex.

I was even willing to quit my job and become a housewife at a moment’s notice if Alex said the word.

I made our home my life’s goal.

Now, I realized I was wrong.

I shouldn’t have put my future on someone else.

Because people change.

Love, in the end, depends entirely on conscience.

But some people just have no conscience!

I transferred my passion for Alex to my work.

My boss appreciated my recent work performance and assigned me a project.

I immersed myself in my work, with no time for anything else.

After a morning of meetings, I finally had time for a break.

I aimlessly scrolled through my social media feed.

I saw a photo posted by Alex.

It was a table of sumptuous lunch.

The photo also clearly showed Sarah’s slender wrist.

On her wrist was a couple’s watch.

It was very expensive, and I vaguely remembered that Alex had changed his watch recently.

If it had been before, I would have definitely made a big fuss with Alex.

But now, I calmly liked the post.

Ten minutes later, my phone rang.

It was Alex.

The last time he called me was probably two months ago.

“What happened?”

Sarah’s laughter came from the other end of the phone.

Was Alex calling to show off?

How childish.

As I was about to hang up impatiently, Alex took the initiative to say, “I’ll pick you up from work tonight.”

I had been working for over four years, and even a typhoon or rainstorm couldn’t persuade him to pick me up from work.

Why was he offering to pick me up today?

Although I felt suspicious, I agreed, thinking, “Free ride, why not?”

“Okay, I get off work at six.”

As soon as I finished speaking, I had to go back to the meeting, so I hung up directly.

Making money was the top priority; how could a mere Alex affect me!

At six o’clock, I finished writing my daily report and walked out of the office building.

Seeing Alex’s car parked not far away, I remembered that he said he would pick me up from work.

I quickened my pace and walked to the car.

I opened the car door and saw Sarah sitting in the passenger seat.