Love’s Bitter Pill

My heart ached with bitterness, and I couldn’t help but feel that all my years of effort had been in vain.

Charles and I had been together for seven years.

When he said he wanted to start his own business, I gave him every penny of my savings to help him open a clothing company.

I worked tirelessly, brainstorming designs, creating clothing, and networking with models. There were days when I was so busy I didn’t even have time to eat.

Skipping meals became a habit. To keep our biggest clients happy, I often had to drink with them. Sometimes, it was to the point of throwing up, only to pick up the glass and keep drinking.

Under my efforts, Charles’ clothing factory went from a small, unknown operation to one of the most successful in the industry.

However, in the process, my stomach problems worsened, becoming almost unbearable.

I never told Charles about any of it because I didn’t want our relationship tainted with pity.

Yet, he gave all the credit to his assistant, Beverly.

“If it weren’t for Bev, I’d never have achieved this level of success.”

If all of this meant so little to him, maybe it was time to cut my losses.

When Charles came home that evening, I had just taken the medicine prescribed by the doctor.

The bitterness lingered in my mouth, but it couldn’t compare to the bitterness in my heart.

He handed me a takeout container.

“Sarah, you’re always pretending to have a stomachache, aren’t you? Well, this is Beverly’s favorite chicken noodle soup. I went out of my way to get it for you. Satisfied now?”

His so-called concern was laughable.

I didn’t reach out to take it. “I’m not eating that. Just leave it on the table.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, his face darkened, and he slammed the container onto the table.

“Sarah, this is ridiculous. Stop throwing tantrums. It’s exhausting. I’ve had a long day, and now I come home to your attitude?”

“Why can’t you learn from Bev? When I’m tired, she always knows how to comfort me. She even gives me massages.”

At the mention of Beverly, his expression lit up, and a small smile tugged at his lips. It was like he was savoring some fond memory.

I had told Charles countless times that I was allergic to chicken.

Time after time, he’d bring it home and insist I prepare dishes for him. If he ever paid attention, he’d notice I never touched them.

When I didn’t respond, Charles moved closer.

“Okay, I get it. You’re mad because I haven’t made your identity public.

“Fine. Once we wrap up this international fashion show, I’ll announce it. Happy now?”

I gave him a bitter smile and shook my head. I didn’t need that anymore.

Just as I was about to tell him how I really felt, his phone rang.

“Charles, I can’t sleep. Can you come over and keep me company?”

Charles chuckled, his mood instantly lifting.

“You silly girl. I told you not to drink so much coffee today, didn’t I? Now you can’t sleep.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and glanced at me, looking a bit awkward. In no time, he regained his composure.

“Uh, a client wants to discuss something urgent. I need to head out.”

I didn’t even look at him. I just nodded indifferently.

After he left, I took a long, hot shower. As I scrolled through my Instagram feed, a new post from Beverly popped up.

It was a video of her lying in a man’s arms.

In the background, a man’s voice could be heard singing a lullaby.

Her caption read: [Haha, Charles still treats me like a little kid. Even though I’m already twenty, he sings me to sleep.]