An Heiress's Groom, My Ex's Regret

After hanging up the phone with Hayley, I returned numbly to the small rented apartment I shared with Christine, which was less than 30 square meters.

The air was a mixture of cheap perfume and a damp, musty smell. I once thought this was the smell of home, but now it made my heart ache painfully and made me feel like vomiting.

Christine did not come back until late at night. She pushed open the door, her face showing just the right amount of weakness and exhaustion. She was also holding a crumpled diagnosis certificate in her hand. Her voice was aggrieved as she looked at me with deep affection but also reluctance. She told me about the severity of her illness and the need for 1.5 million dollars.

"Micah, I know you've been working hard for me. We'll get married when I recover. I will make you the happiest groom in the world."

If I had heard this a few hours ago, I might have been moved to tears and would have done anything to raise that life-saving money for her.

Now, I could only smell the lingering strong alcohol smell and the cologne of strangers on her from afar. That expensive liquor they casually mentioned as costing 300,000 dollars was quite strong.

I did not ask about her well-being or inquire about how much more was needed for her medical expenses, as I usually would. I just looked at her quietly.

The face that I once loved now felt extremely strange and ugly.

She probably noticed my unusual behavior too. Her eyes flickered a few times as a hint of panic appeared. "Micah, why aren't you reacting? I said I'm sick, and the doctor said I need 1.5 million dollars for treatment. Don't you care about me anymore? You're the only one I'm counting on. If you don't care about me, I'm going to die."

I looked at her, suddenly feeling exhausted. I did not even have the strength to question her about the emerald pendant or expose her lies.

"Christine, aren't you tired of this act?"

Her mask of deep affection finally crumbled. "Micah, don't you love me anymore? You're so indifferent to me. Do you think you're all that for raising money for my medical treatment? Let me tell you. I can live perfectly well without you!"

Finally, she slammed the door shut and left.

A bitter feeling washed over me. This was her usual tactic — using this method to force me to submit and waiting for me to comfort her, beg her, and give her everything. However, this time, I did not move.

I slumped onto the cold floor and looked around the tiny unit we once shared. Every item seemed to reek of her hypocrisy, which I found incredibly ironic.

How much of her sweet talk was genuine? How much of her deep affection came from the heart?

I took out my phone, ready to completely delete all her contact information, when a notification popped up on the screen for a friend's livestream. The profile picture was of one of Christine's best friends.

Somehow, I tapped on it.

The livestream was brightly lit and filled with revelry. Christine sat in the center, surrounded by several handsome male models. Her face was glowing, with no trace of her illness or heartbreak. She was arm in arm with her best friends, boasting animatedly about her "men-taming skills." Then, I heard my name.

"Micah..." Christine took a big gulp of her drink, her tone flippant and smug. "...is just a simp and an ATM! He wouldn't dare utter a sound if I said a word! I'm telling you, he'll be crying and begging me to come home within three days!"

The livestream immediately erupted in laughter and flattery. "Christine, you can't say that! What butler is so handsome and capable at the same time? You're lucky! You have someone making money to support you during the day and someone warming your bed and waiting on you at night. Tsk tsk tsk, we're envious! I just wonder if his body can handle all that?"

"Exactly! He usually seems so serious and honest, but he must be really good in bed! He's probably learned a lot of positions to please Christine!"

They talked about me without restraint, using the most filthy language to speculate about our private matters.

The comments on the screen echoed their sentiments, and the barrage of vulgarities assaulted my eyes. I could not take it any longer, so I abruptly shut down the livestream. My stomach churned as I rushed to the bathroom, vomiting violently, as if trying to expel all the betrayal and disgust of the past three years.

WhatsApp, phone, Messenger... My hands trembled as I blocked and deleted all of Christine's contact information. I thought, 'Goodbye, Christine. I'm done!'