"分手的时候,我把他的东西都丢出去了. 包括他. 又跟朋友倒苦水,喝多了狂发小作文."
Chapter 1
When we broke up, I threw all his things out.
Including my love to him.
Then I vented to my friends, drank too much, and wrote embarrassing posts.
I did everything crazy you could think of.
To avoid him, I made excuses not to attend a friend's wedding.
The next day, he asked me, "Do you really not want to see me?"
"Yes."
"But I miss you so much."
1.
A year and a half after the breakup, I tried my best to avoid any chance of running into Chris Flynn.
Even though our homes were just a street apart, we never crossed paths during this period.
I even skipped the wedding of our mutual friends.
At the post-wedding reception, I greeted friends with a bright smile, only to look up and see him.
He stood there, youthful and dashing in his suit.
Rachael Brigg sat beside him, looking like a perfect match.
"I had no choice but to invite him, " my friend Beryl Oscar whispered, clutching my hand tightly, her face pale. "I didn't expect her to come too."
Everyone at the table knew Chris and I had been together.
They were all watching us like it was a show.
I sat upright, clinking glasses with those around me, and after a few bottles, I felt a bit tipsy.
Rachael maneuvered through the crowd, raising a beer in front of me.
"Long time no see. Why doesn't anyone drink with you?"
She then twirled her hair, feigning realization.
"Oh, sorry. I forgot, you got dumped ages ago."
2.
Speaking of drinking, Chris used to shield me from alcohol at every meal.
Ignoring the teasing around him, he'd down a glass, blocking the verbal jabs from others.
Then he'd pull me into his arms, proudly declaring, "I've been single for so long, finally got someone wonderful. Please don't make it hard for her."
He happily accepted the nickname "model boyfriend."
He always served me with different kinds of dishes during the meals.
Since the breakup, I'd picked up a drinking habit.
Now, I needed at least five bottles to feel tipsy.
"Just work socializing, my drinking capacity has improved, " I said, downing my drink and signaling Rachael with my eyes, "Are you just going to sit there? You weren't pretending before, were you?" she said boldly. "It's all just an act. After all, I am not an alcoholic"
Even a fool could see she was targeting me, but it was a friend's wedding banquet, and I was too tired to argue.
Ignoring her, I focused on the conversation around me.
Seeing my indifference, Rachael placed a plate of pastries in front of me, indulging herself.
"Why do you turn so thin? Did something upset you?"
Her voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to embarrass me.
My friend quickly intervened, glaring at Rachael and gripping my hand tightly.
That mango cake was glaringly obvious.
After a few seconds, I met those probing eyes, my voice turning hoarse and obscure.
"I've never liked sweets."
Chris's face turned dark with anger, and I took the opportunity to bid farewell to my friends.
This meal was more nerve-wracking than a work presentation.
Just as I was about to hail a cab, a sharp pain shot through my left hand, and I was pulled onto the street.
The voice was low but filled with anger.
"Susan Smith. What did you mean by what you just said?"
3.
I looked at him, suppressing the turmoil inside, unable to stop myself from recalling the past.
The day before we broke up, I was preparing for our anniversary.
I even asked the pastry chef to change the cake filling to his favorite mango.
We made a whole table of dishes, the cake in the center, making wishes face to face.
In the flickering candlelight, I couldn't see his face clearly.
A woman's intuition was sharp; though he was right in front of me, I felt worried.
He said he'd thought about it for two days and decided we weren't suitable.
No arguments or conflicts, such a clumsy reason.
No matter how I asked or coaxed, all I got was silence and avoidance.
I cried and threw his things out.
Until this meeting, I thought I had moved on, but my racing heart and nerves told a different story.
"You were the one who suggested breaking up. Do my words matter to you now?"
I shook off his grip, surprised at how much Chris had aged in just a year.
The wind blew, and the alcohol made me feel nauseous.
"Consider the love that I spare no effort for as a gift to you. Let's not cross paths again. I'm getting married. Remember to come."
4.
Chris's hand loosened, and I casually hailed a cab, watching his figure recede in the rearview mirror.
Back home, I washed up quickly and fell into a deep sleep.
That night, I didn't sleep well. In my dreams, I sobbed quietly as he looked on with indifference, eventually slamming the door as he left.
I woke up to see a message on my phone.
The first was from my best friend Tim Hardy, who sent money without a word.
"Happy birthday, my dear Susan. May your business thrive soon."
I rolled my eyes, replied briefly, and started getting ready.
I went on a date with myself, and as dusk fell, I headed straight for the cake.
I'd never been a fan of mango flavor; chocolate had always been my favorite.
"Hello, your cake is ready, " the shop assistant said.
Reflexively, I looked up to see Chris's intense gaze. "Susan, what a coincidence."
We shared the same zodiac sign, born just a day apart.
I once thought it was destiny, but now it seemed like nonsense.
Not wanting any more interaction, I left the shop and hailed a cab.
No one should disturb my newly adjusted state.
I put my phone on silent and sat on the steps, the gentle evening breeze by the river calming my earlier anxiety.
I let out a long burp, slightly jarring in the night.
This drink was known to knock you out; no wonder just one bottle made me see stars.
I didn't want to be the subject of a news story about a drunken woman falling into the river, so I quickly grabbed the cake. As I got out of the cab, I missed a step, instinctively protecting my face with my hands.
A familiar scent of cologne hit my nose.
Chris's voice was tense yet concerned, gripping my arm. I held on tightly, neither of us willing to let go.
"Susan, are you out of your mind? Why did you drink so much?"