“Six years together, from the library to spicy hot pot. We’d even saved enough for a down payment, until I found another world inside his supposedly ‘dead’ old phone.”
We met during the year we were preparing for graduate school entrance exams. He stayed up late studying with me, and I kept him company as he worked overtime. We ate countless meals at roadside stalls and made it through the darkest nights life had to offer. Everyone said we were one step away from going from school uniforms to wedding dresses. But on the day I brought him the final payment I’d worked so hard to earn, hoping to surprise him, I found that “long-broken” old phone at his empty workstation.
The phone still had power. The password was my birthday.
Inside were flirtatious exchanges with dozens of strange women, along with explicit records of his encounters with female colleagues in meeting rooms and hotels during business trips.
The most painful part wasn’t those transactional dates. It was learning that on the nights he said he was “working overtime all night,” he was actually holding someone else as they watched the sea; while I gritted my teeth and tried to hitch a ride in the middle of nowhere, he was posting intimate pictures with someone else on his social media.
Six years of youth, betrayed in a scheme long in the making.
I didn’t cry or make a scene. I quietly screenshotted the most damning chats and sent them to his company’s department group with a single tap.
Then I blocked every way to contact me and walked away forever from the place I once called “home.”
Some people say I went too far.
But if your sincerity was nothing more than the dullest line on his schedule from beginning to end
What would you choose?
