L
He had an affair with his first love,
so I left directly
It was Mid–Autumn Festival. I’d cooked a whole feast, waiting for Ethan to come home. He walked in, didn’t even glance at the table, and went straight to his suitcase.
“I can’t spend Mid–Autumn Festival with you
this year,” he said coldly.
I didn’t say anything, just silently picked at my
crab.
At midnight, like clockwork, Ethan’s first love
posted a picture on Instagram. She was
beaming, piggybacking on Ethan, a full moon
visible through the window. The caption read:
“Raising a glass to the moon, paired with my
beloved.”
L
Instead of my usual hysterical questioning, I
simply “liked” the post.
Ethan’s phone call came immediately, his
voice laced with panic. “Don’t overthink it,
okay? I’ll definitely spend next Mid–Autumn Festival with you…”
I paused for a few seconds, then let out a
soft laugh without replying.
Next time?
Ethan, honey.
There won’t be a next time.
Ethan came home a few days after the festival. I usually waited for him in the garden, but not this time. He texted: “Where are you?”
<
I
I was eating lunch. “Home, having lunch,” I
typed back casually.
Minutes later, Ethan walked in, suitcase
dragging behind him. “I’m starving. Make me
some noodles and a soft–boiled egg,” he said
while changing his shoes.
Normally, I’d jump at the chance to cook for
him. Now, I just said, “I’m done eating. Order
takeout.”
Ethan shot me a look of annoyance, but
managed to keep his voice down. “I know
you’re still mad about Mid–Autumn Festival,
but can you please not make a big deal out of
it? I’m really hungry.”
I turned and smiled faintly. “I’m not mad.”
<
He didn’t believe me. “Sarah was all alone in
the city for the holiday. I just spent the day
with her, you know, being a good host.”
“Mm–hmm, I know,” I replied evenly.
Ethan stared, as if trying to see through me.
Then, he looked down, suppressing his
irritation. “What’s the point of this? I’m tired, I
don’t want to fight. Can you just be
reasonable?”
I met his gaze. “I’m not fighting. Are you
done? I need to do the dishes.”
Ethan watched me in silence for a moment,
then pulled a necklace out of his pocket and handed it to me. He looked down at me,
simply saying, “Here’s your gift.”
<
The necklace wasn’t wrapped, a stark
contrast to the beautifully packaged gift
Sarah had shown off on Instagram.
I showed no excitement. “Thanks,” I said
politely, and nothing more.
A flash of annoyance crossed Ethan’s face.
“That’s it?” he snapped.
“That’s it,” I confirmed.
His face turned red. He held out his hand.
“Where’s mine?”
I suddenly remembered. “Oh, sorry, I forgot,” I
said apologetically. “I’ll just send you some money. Get yourself something.” I grabbed my phone and sent him $20.
<
Ethan’s eyes widened, clearly surprised I’d
forgotten. I’d always been big on gifts,
making sure we exchanged presents for every
holiday, even when he forgot. For years, I’d
kept up the tradition, always finding
something special for him.
