Eleven Years of Misplaced Love

I had been in a relationship with Jeffrey Gibson for eleven years. At a time in my life when I was least prepared for upheaval, he grew tired and found various excuses to push me to break up with him.

I was too exhausted to argue anymore, so I just looked at him quietly. "You want to break up with me so you can have a family with Laura Miller, right?"

Jeffrey's silence confirmed my suspicion, completely forgetting his past promise to build a home with me.

But eleven years had passed, and Jeffrey still hadn't given me a home.

I was ready to leave, utterly heartbroken, when he suddenly said he regretted it.

1

I stood alone in the sales office, staring intently at the model homes. A salesperson quickly approached me, asking, "Miss, are you looking to buy a house? This is a new development, and the surrounding area-"

I snapped back to reality and pointed across the glass at the two people. "No, I'm just watching my boyfriend."

The salesperson followed my gaze and saw the man and woman across the way, chatting and laughing. Though they maintained a proper distance, the subtle touch of their arms amplified the intimacy.

The salesperson tried to reassure me, "He's not with you to look at houses, but I judge by their attire that they must be colleagues. Maybe they both coincidentally want to buy a house. Your boyfriend is probably planning a surprise for you!"

I was taken aback and instinctively retorted, "That's impossible."

The salesperson couldn't tell if I was refuting the idea that they were colleagues or that Jeffrey was buying a house to surprise me.

I knew in my heart that I meant both.

I met Laura when I was about to leave the company.

I never expected to see her again, and she was on Jeffrey's phone wallpaper.

I discovered this when I had asked Jeffrey to look at houses with me, but he impatiently refused, claiming he was too tired from working late the night before. Yet that evening, he said he had to rush to the office for some urgent work.

A woman's intuition was often sharper than any tool.

We had been together since our freshman year, and eleven years of once passionate love now reduced to the daily grind of life's necessities.

But we knew each other as well as the lines on our palms, and any change in Jeffrey couldn't escape my notice.

Jeffrey hated losing sleep due to overtime, yet he seemed unusually cheerful heading to the office.

That night, he didn't reply to my messages and didn't come home.

When I asked him why he hadn't responded, he brushed me off with a tired excuse and went to shower, leaving his phone on the bed, vibrating occasionally.

Midway through his shower, his phone rang. Jeffrey urgently asked me to hand it to him.

I was a bit slow, and he lashed out, blaming me for potentially causing him to lose his job, saying if I wanted him to buy a house and marry him, I should forget it.

I stared at him in shock as he answered the call, his voice tense, as if nervous. "Don't worry, whatever it is, I'll handle it tomorrow. It won't come back on you."

After hanging up, Jeffrey still wasn't at ease. Despite his hands being covered in soap suds, he typed a reply to the other party, then placed the phone where he could easily reach it, checking it every five minutes.

I vividly remembered how he used to do the same when we first started dating. Even if he was in the shower, he would reply to my messages with soapy hands, proudly saying afterward, "I can't let my girlfriend feel insecure."

Now, Jeffrey was doing the same, only it wasn't for me anymore.

My heart pounded inexplicably, and I couldn't help but ask, "Yesterday, you said you were too tired to reply to me. Now, showering doesn't stop you from replying to someone else?"

Jeffrey paused for a moment, then said flatly, "That was my boss calling. You've quit your job, so you probably don't understand. I have to be vigilant now. I'm in the prime of my career. If I miss a call and lose my job, who will support you?"

Jeffrey's self-righteousness left me speechless.

But he seemed to forget that when we worked at the same company, my abilities were no less than his. It was he who asked me to quit my job to take care of his daily life, promising to support me.

I didn't expect that quitting my job would become a reason for him to mock me.

But quitting my job didn't make me foolish. I clearly heard a girl's voice on the other end of the call.

When Jeffrey unlocked his screen again, I caught a glimpse of the chat wallpaper, which was identical to the girl standing next to him now.

I was speechless.

I took out my phone and called Jeffrey, testing whether he would answer.

He glanced at it, and Laura leaned in, frowning as if scolding him, poking his chest. Her youthful demeanor made her appear charmingly innocent.

If I, a mature woman, acted like that, it would only come across as forceful and pretentious, inevitably leading to a quarrel.

Jeffrey chuckled lightly and unhesitatingly put his phone back in his pocket.

Unwilling to give up, I took video calls several more times. Jeffrey answered impatiently, "Let's talk about the house later. I'm working. If you have something to say, just say it, don't waste my time."

2

I opened my mouth to speak, but a soft, provocative voice came from the other side, "Hello, Jennifer. Mr. Gibson might be late after the meeting. I have some things I don't understand and need him to stay and teach me, okay?"

This obvious attempt to stake her claim was almost amusing.

I saw Jeffrey smile indulgently, cautiously moving the phone away as if to prevent me from hearing more.

Even so, I still heard Laura's light laughter, her voice calm and fearless, "I left the lipstick you gave me in the car yesterday. Remember to return it to me, or Jennifer might misunderstand you."

I was silent, knowing full well that Laura was reminding me she had long been a part of Jeffrey's life.

Laura mentioned the Louboutin lipstick-it was quite expensive. Last month on Valentine's Day, I was shocked to find this brand along with a pile of red roses in Jeffrey's car.

Over the eleven years with Jeffrey, we both struggled to save for a house, and our earnings barely covered the small necessities of life. On holidays, Jeffrey would only take me out for a meal.

I thought he had finally understood romance, so I waited from dawn till dusk on Valentine's Day, but Jeffrey never brought those roses home.

When I asked him about it, Jeffrey hesitated and said the lipstick was for a colleague who asked him to buy it for his girlfriend. At that time, Jeffrey was researching overseas beauty products, so he could buy things at cheaper prices.

I swallowed my anger and didn't question him, after all, Jeffrey claimed he didn't understand romance.

Now I realized, Jeffrey just didn't want to be romantic with me.

I hung up the phone and headed straight to the underground parking lot.

Jeffrey rarely went to work without his car, but today I specifically asked him to leave it.

I clutched the nearly new lipstick, sitting in the car for a long time, trying to figure out when their relationship began. Eventually, I turned on the dashcam.

I always thought Jeffrey and I were principled people with boundaries, never crossing lines or letting anything surpass our relationship.

But I found Laura appearing in the footage every now and then.

There was a video recorded when I asked Jeffrey to view a house, and he declined, citing lack of sleep, yet he went to work overtime that night.

After a moment of silence, the door closed, and Laura, with a hint of guilt and delight, said, "Sorry to bother you so late again!"

Her youthful charm had a way of making Jeffrey's heart flutter with joy, and he wasn't impatient with her as he often was with me.

He just chuckled, "It's no big deal."

But my heart turned cold at that moment.

Laura laughed lightly, "I have some supporting at the company, who would dare trouble me? Besides, I am with you around. But it's you who are making too big a deal out of it. Didn't Jennifer ask you anything last night? I remember you said she wanted you to take her house hunting."

The atmosphere fell silent for a moment.

Jeffrey's voice was hoarse, "It's not the right time yet. I want to wait until my career is more stable."

Laura seemed relieved to hear what she wanted, smiling meaningfully, "Jennifer has planned well for you two. I also want a home, but now isn't the time."

"It's normal for you to want a home." Jeffrey said with a hint of sarcasm, "But Jennifer doesn't work, unlike you who has your own career. But buying a car, a house, and settling in a big city isn't easy. I'm in the prime of my career, and Jennifer is pressuring me to marry. Once she got greedy, she fell prey to her own desires."

Laura burst into laughter.

I sat silently in the dimly lit garage for what felt like an eternity.

The image of Jeffrey and Laura together at the real estate sales office seemed absurd.

During our eleven years of drifting without a home, Jeffrey and I squeezed into a tiny rental, supporting each other. In moments of affection, Jeffrey promised to build a home with me.

Such promises took root in my heart, and Jeffrey was well aware of my anticipation.

I waited year after year, but how many eleven years would I have to wait?

Until our relationship grew dull, no longer close, only filled with annoyance and impatience. In recent years, Jeffrey's anger turned into hurtful words, piercing me like sharp swords.

Behind my back, he spoke of me with such malice, as if he were a different person.

I waited until I reached the age of thirty, like a milestone of maturity, but Jeffrey and another woman were at the real estate sales office, planning their future.

Promises were remembered only by the listener. When I mentioned these promises, in Jeffrey's eyes, I became someone vain and calculating.

How ridiculous.

Yet I could endure it time and again.

3

As I was about to drive home, Jeffrey unexpectedly called and asked, "I've found a house I like. What colors do women generally prefer for decorating?"

I was momentarily stunned, my dead heart stirred slightly. What if Jeffrey really was planning a surprise for me, as the shop assistant suggested?

With this hope, I decided to give Jeffrey another chance.

I softly and earnestly answered, "The living room should have a warm beige tone, so when friends visit, it feels grand and cozy. The bedroom and bathroom could..."

As I spoke, my excitement almost overshadowed the unpleasantness, allowing me to pretend the past eleven years of our relationship had never been tainted.

Yet, despite this, a faint, self-deprecating smile crept onto my lips.

Jeffrey interrupted me, sounding urgent, "Jennifer, not what you like now, but the design you planned when we first thought of buying a house."

I paused, as if my excitement was doused with cold water.

The plan Jeffrey referred to was one I had crafted and revised multiple times since we first talked about buying a house, detailing everything from wall colors to the toys on the sofa.

I realized Jeffrey wasn't asking what I wanted, but rather what women in general might want... I guessed it was what Laura liked?

"Those ideas are quite immature, Jeffrey."

I tried to remain calm as I asked, "The old plan from seven or eight years ago is covered in dust. Why not ask what I like now, but looking for that outdated plan?"

Jeffrey paused, probably surprised. I was usually considerate and rarely pressed for answers so sharply.