Only When My Love Was Gone ，Did He Realize His Mistake.

At the office, I overheard a new hire talking about preparing for a qualification exam related to our work. A wave of shame washed over me.

She had just graduated and was already thinking ahead about self-improvement. Meanwhile, I'd been in this industry for years and still felt lost, drifting aimlessly, with no clear direction. The only person I could blame was myself for being so consumed by daydreams of love.

After graduation, I had one simple dream—marrying Daniel.

Yet here I am, still waiting for that dream to come true.

Back then, my entire life revolved around Daniel. For him, I once fantasized about quitting my job to become a full-time housewife, if he asked me to after marriage. To my younger self, taking care of the family, raising kids, and living life with Daniel was the ultimate happiness.

But looking back now, I realize how much of a failure I was.

In love, I gave so much but received nothing in return. Daniel wouldn’t even offer me a single promise about marriage.

As for my career, I was still stuck, with no progress in sight.

Then, just when I felt like giving up, the new hire reignited a long-lost determination in me. Her hard work and drive reminded me that I couldn’t continue down this path of self-destruction.

I decided to change. I began asking my colleagues for advice, buying study materials, and preparing for the qualification exam. After work, I stopped wasting time. Instead, I buried myself in my study materials, reading until I was too exhausted to continue.

In the past few days, Daniel seemed to still be angry with me, coming home late every night. This, however, gave me the peace I needed to focus on my studies.

One afternoon during my break, I checked my Status Update idly and saw that Daniel had posted something. There were no words, just a photo. On the dining table were several dishes, two sets of chopsticks, and at the edge of the table, a hand was visible. I could just make out the watch I had once given him on his wrist.

I knew Daniel too well—he posted this picture on purpose, wanting me to see it, to let me know he was having dinner with Isabella.

Strangely, I felt no anger or jealousy. I no longer had the impulse to call him and demand an explanation.

I glanced at the picture, then tossed my phone aside and continued scrolling through other updates.

Later that evening, Daniel called.

“I’ll pick you up after work.”

His tone was flat, emotionless.

My first instinct was to refuse.

“No need. I have to work late tonight. I’ll be home later.” I lied, without thinking.

“How late?” he asked calmly.

“Umm, eight o’clock,” I lied again.

“Okay, I’ll wait for you downstairs at eight,” he said, before hanging up.

To cover up my lie, I didn’t leave immediately. Instead, I took out my study materials and stayed in the office, reading until it was time to go. At eight, I packed up, grabbed my bag, and headed downstairs.

When I walked out of the building, I saw the familiar car parked not far away.

I approached it and opened the door. Isabella smiled at me from the passenger seat.

“Olivia, I just had dinner with Daniel. He’s giving me a ride home,” she said, her tone light, even a little smug.

“Mm.” I replied indifferently and walked around to sit in the backseat.

Every time Isabella sat in that car, I refused to sit in the passenger seat. I had argued with Daniel about this more than once, but he always sided with Isabella, saying she got car sick and the front seat was the only place she could sit.

I had tried to explain that the passenger seat was meant for his girlfriend, but he always dismissed me, saying I was overreacting.

I had never won that argument with Isabella. Every time she sat in the front seat, I couldn’t help but feel upset.

But now, I couldn’t bring myself to care about it anymore.