Youth without regret

Chapter 1

I graduated from college, and the guy I’d been dating since forever, promised to marry me.

At my graduation ceremony, he proposed to the fake heiress, Janelle Miller.

And everyone’s favorite golden boy, Gary Peterson, after successfully proposing to Janelle, declared his love for me.

For five years of marriage, he was tender and doting.

Until I overheard a conversation between him and his friend.

“Gary, Janelle’s famous now, do you still need to keep up the act with Jennifer?”

“It doesn’t matter, I couldn’t marry Janelle anyway. Besides, as long as I’m around, Jennifer won’t be able to interfere with Janelle’s happiness.”

And his cherished scriptures, every page inscribed with Janelle’s name:

“May Janelle be free from her attachments, may her body and mind be at peace.”

“May Janelle get everything she wants, may her loved ones be free from worry.”

……

“Janelle, I have no fate with you in this life, I only wish to hold your hand in the next.”

Five years of delusion, shattered in an instant.

I set up a fake identity and planned a drowning.

From now on, we will never see each other again, not in this life or any other.

1

After confirming the final arrangements for my staged death, I hung up the phone.

In two days, I’ll be gone forever, just like they wanted.

A faint sandalwood scent drifted in from the doorway, and I looked up. It was Gary.

He hugged me, his voice gentle. “Who were you talking to?”

“Nothing, just gallery business.” I smiled, trying to sound casual.

He kissed the top of my head and murmured, “Why so much going on lately? I’ll make you something light tonight, something good for your stomach.”

Married to Gary for five years, he’d always been tender and doting.

Everyone said that when a good man falls in love, it’s forever.

I thought this was my happily ever after.

But now, I finally understood. This marriage wasn’t my happiness; it was his protection of Janelle.

Gary gently stroked my shoulder and then said, “By the way, the Millers are having a celebration tomorrow, Janelle’s pregnant, and they’re also celebrating her being in the International Art Exhibition. You don’t have to go. I’ll drop off a gift and come right back to you.”

“But the exhibition, I…”

He cut me off, his tone gentle but firm. “You shouldn’t go to the exhibition. Haven’t you been saying you want a baby? This is a good time to rest at home and prepare.”

I lowered my eyes, hiding the turmoil inside.

We’d been married for so many years, but we didn’t have any children.

I’d thought it was just bad timing, but now I realized, he probably didn’t want children with me.

He probably didn’t want me at the exhibition because he was afraid I’d overshadow Janelle.

He kissed my forehead, seemingly unaware that my heart had sunk to the bottom of the ocean.

“The day after tomorrow is your birthday. I’ve already prepared a surprise for you. May you have peace and happiness every year.”

Peace and happiness every year.

I repeated the words, suddenly finding them jarring.

Every birthday wish he’d ever given me included those same words.

And now, I finally understood their true meaning.

They were never for me.

“Okay, I have some plans for my birthday too. You have to make time for me.”

He nodded. “Of course, whatever my Jenny wants.”

I looked up and smiled at him.

Gary, what a performance.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I gently moved Gary’s arm from around me.

I accidentally knocked his prayer beads off the nightstand.

Picking them up, I felt something odd on their surface.

In the dim light, I looked closer. Each bead was engraved.

Janelle.

In that moment, my heart completely shattered.

2

The next morning, I said to Gary, “Let’s go to the Millers’ together.”

His expression stiffened for a moment, but quickly returned to normal. “Okay, we’ll go, drop off the gift, and come right back.”

I knew he didn’t want me to go, afraid I’d disturb Janelle.

But I just wanted one last look at my family.

After all, tomorrow, I’d be leaving.

At the Millers’, everyone was celebrating Janelle’s pregnancy and her participation in the International Art Exhibition.

Janelle was the center of attention, everyone praising her, saying her painting in the competition was sure to win.

They mentioned the painting had been inscribed by the calligrapher “Nian,” a perfect pairing, a masterpiece of art.

Janelle’s face changed when she saw me, but she quickly regained her composure.

With a polite smile, but a mocking tone, she said, “Jennifer, you’re here too? Are you this free these days?”

I ignored her provocation, my eyes fixed on the painting on display.

It was a piece so familiar it hurt.

A painting I finished years ago and kept in my private collection, never shown to the public.

My painting. How did it get here? How did it become her “competition piece”?

Janelle smirked at me and leaned closer, her voice soft but laced with challenge, “Do you like the painting, Jennifer?”

I glared at her, about to speak, when she suddenly gasped, “No—”

Before I could react, she stumbled backward, clutching her stomach, a pained expression on her face.

The room erupted in chaos.

“What happened?!”

“Janelle’s pregnant! How could you bump into her?!”

“Get a doctor!”

Amidst the pandemonium, I heard a panicked cry: “Janelle!”

Others might not have recognized it, but I did instantly.

It was Gary’s voice.

The concern in his eyes was almost uncontainable, shattering my last shred of hope.

Noticing my gaze, Gary quickly composed himself.

He turned to me, his voice gentle but laced with reproach. “Regardless, Janelle is pregnant now and you shouldn’t have pushed her.”

Just then, news arrived. The painting had made it to the finals, with a high chance of winning.

A flash of uncontainable joy crossed his face, an expression I’d never seen in five years of marriage.

I asked him quietly, “Why is Janelle’s painting the same as mine?”

He stiffened slightly, but quickly regained his composure, feigning ignorance. “Maybe it’s a coincidence, maybe her style is similar to yours…”

I gave a cold laugh and said nothing more.

That painting was from my private gallery. Only a few people had the key.

And the inscription…

It was a pseudonym, but the handwriting was identical to Gary’s when he copied Buddhist scriptures.

How that painting ended up here, and who was responsible, was obvious.

That painting was meant to be my fifth-anniversary gift to him.

Now, realizing our marriage itself was a sham, the painting became meaningless.

I smiled, my voice so flat it was impossible to decipher my emotions.

Gary seemed to sense something was off. He looked startled, then suggested, “Why don’t we leave now? Find somewhere to relax.”

I looked up at him, a faint smile playing on my lips. “Let’s go yachting. A night cruise, and we can watch the sunrise tomorrow.”

3

In the car, he started talking about tomorrow’s plans: “I’ve prepared a birthday surprise for you. After things calm down, we can start planning for a baby, okay?”

I listened quietly, staring out the window, not responding.

As the car started, his phone rang.

He answered, his brow furrowing, his voice strained.

I turned to him, my voice calm. “If you have something to do, go ahead.”

He hesitated. “Jenny, I…”

“It’s fine, I’ll go to the yacht and wait for you.”

I didn’t see the caller ID, but I knew there was only one person who could make him react that way.

Alone on the yacht, I took out my phone and opened Janelle’s social media.

A newly posted photo caught my eye, captioned: “Someone’s here with me during this exciting time, brought me late-night snacks, and stayed to chat. Thank you for always taking care of me.”

The comments were filled with flattery: “Your husband is so good to you!” “This is what a truly doting husband looks like!”

But my gaze was drawn to a hand in the photo.

The prayer beads on the wrist were unmistakably familiar – Gary’s.

I called his phone, but Janelle answered.

“It’s so late, Jennifer, why are you calling me? Don’t tell me you’re looking for Gary?” Janelle’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Give it up. He’s not coming home tonight. It’s a shame, my dear sister, you just can’t keep a man. I practically handed him to you on a silver platter, and you still couldn’t hold on.”

I hung up, turned to the yacht staff, and said, “Let’s go.”

“Aren’t you waiting for anyone else?”

I murmured, “No, it’s just me.”

The yacht started, cutting through the dark sea, heading for deeper waters.

He didn’t show up all night.

I leaned against the deck, staring blankly at the sea, the past five years flashing through my mind.

His tenderness, his companionship, his promises… every moment like a shard of glass, piecing together a broken picture.

All the pretense, all the lies, now so ironic and ridiculous.

Before sunrise, I made one last call to him.

This time, his phone was off.

I stared at the screen and set the phone recording and the video evidence of me creating the painting to upload automatically.

After that, I walked to the stern, taking one last look at the faint light on the horizon.

Then, I jumped into the cold water.

Elsewhere, Gary hurried away from Janelle’s, saying, “I have to go. It’s her birthday tomorrow, and I promised to watch the sunrise with her.”

Janelle stopped him, annoyed. “Gary, I need you now too…”

Gary shook his head. “No, not tonight.”

Just then, his assistant found him.

“Mr. Peterson, your wife jumped into the ocean!”