I Didn’t Lose a Man. I Lost Dead Weight

The cold wind made me more alert as I wiped away my flowing tears. Turns out that when there is no love, there's not even a chance for an explanation.

I laughed bitterly and closed my eyes, my heart full of disappointment. I took a cab back to the house we once shared, ready to say my final goodbye.

As soon as I stepped in, I was confronted with a scene that I would never forget. I stood in the hallway, looking at the two people on the couch, oblivious to my presence.

"Jameson, no! Be gentle, I can't bear it!"

"In order to treat the bruises on your legs, I need to apply pressure, silly girl."

Is this healing? It was unheard of!

Yara's fair, soft legs were wrapped around Jameson's shoulders, swaying rhythmically. I shook my head vigorously, trying to dispel the image but couldn't.

With Jameson's eyes reddened and his body tense, my stomach churned.

I rested my hands on the hallway, the noise alerting them both. They turned to look at me simultaneously.

"You're back," Jameson said.

I put down my keys and walked past them. "Keep up the massage. Your junior is still hurting."

No sooner had I spoken when Yara's face turned pale.

Jameson spoke impatiently, "What are you being sarcastic about now? Will it ever end?"

"Yara is young, and you've caused her such pain. I'm cleaning up your mess, and yet you still haggle over it," I replied, lowering my eyes to hide my sarcasm.

"Did I say anything? Didn't I tell you, as her senior, to take good care of her?" I returned flatly.

A glimmer of suspicion flickered in Jameson's eyes, unable to understand why my attitude had changed so quickly.

Yara gave me a long look, slightly curling her lips.

Just as I was about to enter my room, a pungent burning smell filled the air.

Jameson's face turned ashen as he dashed to the kitchen, quickly turning off the gas. He came out, glanced at me for a second, then immediately looked away.

"What are you staring at? Food got burnt, and you don't know how to turn off the heat? I can't believe how you manage as a girlfriend," Jameson snapped.

Looking at the blustering Jameson, my last thread of hope shattered completely.

"If that's what you think, there's nothing I can do," I said wearily. "I'm tired, I'm going to rest."

Jameson hadn't expected me to talk back, his face instantly darkening.

Yara ran over, pitifully coughing a few times. "Don't blame Jameson. It's my period, and my stomach hurts badly. That's why Jameson made me some brown sugar water. Sorry, Evelyn, blame me and not Jameson."

Jameson embraced her tenderly, taking a blanket to wrap her up tightly and carrying her back to the couch.

Watching Jameson's attentive care, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. I remembered years ago when I had painful menstrual cramps and asked him for a cup of brown sugar water, only to be dismissed as being overly dramatic.

"Make it yourself, I have an important meeting today," he had said.

Eventually, I passed out in pain.

Jameson had massaged my abdomen, complaining the whole time, "You're an adult, can't you take better care of yourself? You made me get scolded by the doctor, what a disgrace."

At that time, I was immersed in his rare tenderness, taking all the blame upon myself, with pain more from heartache than the physical cramps.

I quietly turned to my room to pack my things.

I opened the door and found the bed sheets crumpled, with spots of liquid and Yara's clothes scattered all over. Unable to control my nausea, I rushed to the bathroom, clutching the toilet as I vomited.

Wiping my mouth, I heard Yara's voice at the door.

"Evelyn, what's wrong? Haven't you seen such scenes before?"

I stood up, pushed past her, and continued packing my clothes.

"Mind your own business and take care of yourself."

After a long silence, she spoke again. "Aren't you curious why I came to see Jameson?"

I turned back to meet her gaze without speaking.

Yara sat on the edge of the bed, staring straight at me. "I originally had no intentions of coming. But since you had to flaunt your happiness on Instagram, and I can't stand seeing others happy."

She blew on her manicured nails, her ring finger's diamond ring catching my eye.

The longer a couple is together, the less passion there is; no one can avoid it.