As I looked at Hao Yi’s face, peaceful and full of hope for the future, all I felt was confusion and estrangement. I realized I couldn’t enter this marriage with a clear conscience. I could no longer pretend that I was certain this was the life I wanted.
“Hao Yi, I…” I set the pen down and began with difficulty, “I can’t marry you.”
“What?” Hao Yi looked at me, as if he hadn’t heard correctly.
“I cheated on you. I betrayed you. I can’t marry you!” The words tumbled out in a single breath, sharp and direct.
Hao Yi said nothing. He blinked several times, seemingly digesting what I had just confessed while trying to maintain focus on the road. Without a word, he took the next exit off the highway, pulled over to the side of the road, and turned off the engine.
The car fell into complete silence. Hao Yi didn’t immediately turn to look at me. Instead, he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, repeating the motion several times. I had never seen him like this. I wanted to say something, but no words felt right. All I could do was passively wait for his response.
Finally, he turned to face me, his gaze icy cold.
“You cheated?” he asked, his tone laced with emotion—a barely restrained fury that even his deep breaths couldn’t suppress.
“I’m sorry…” I said sincerely, my voice trembling.
“To what extent?” he asked, his emotions tightly controlled.
“Everything.”
At my answer, Hao Yi’s eyes shifted away, staring straight ahead. He sat in that same position for what felt like an eternity. Occasionally, he would tilt his head slightly as if to say something, only to immediately stop himself. Finally, he seemed to give up on hesitation entirely, gripping the steering wheel tighter with both hands.
I broke the silence first. “Hao Yi, I could keep this a secret and marry you anyway, but I know that’s not—”
“Get out of the car!” he cut me off harshly. Hao Yi had never yelled at me like that before, and I was so startled that I froze in place.
“If we’ve agreed not to get married, then please, get out of the car now,” he said, his voice strained with suppressed pain.
I nodded, unfastened my seatbelt, grabbed my bag, and reached for the door handle—
“Who is he?” Hao Yi asked suddenly, then immediately stopped himself. “Forget it. Don’t tell me. We have too many mutual friends; I’ll find out someday.”
“It’s over between him and me. I’m not breaking up with you to be with him. I just wanted to make a choice that’s truly my own.”
“Say whatever you want!” Hao Yi spat, exhaling sharply. He didn’t want to continue. “You know what? I won’t ask why you cheated, because there’s only one reason—you made a mistake.”
Mistakes are results, not causes.
I didn’t correct him. I silently stepped out of the car and walked away. But if I ever got the chance, I hoped someday to help him understand—it was exactly this flawed logic that led us to this breaking point.
To most people, I must seem crazy today. I made the worst possible decision, hurt the person closest to me for years, and threw away a three-year relationship. Maybe I’ll never find someone else I can date seriously or plan a future with. And of course, being with Chu Ke Huan is even further out of reach. All that lies ahead is a vast, empty canvas, waiting to be rebuilt from scratch.
I looked up at the sky. The blue above, I realized, wasn’t the same as the blue I’d seen through the windshield. It might seem insignificant to others, but to me, that tiny difference meant everything.
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