Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English
Synopsis
Tags: Cheating Scumbag, Awakening, Breaking Up & Collecting Debts, Career Comeback
I spent five years with Julian.
From the time I was twenty-two until I turned twenty-seven, I ate cheap instant ramen with hot sauce beside him, lived in a windowless basement apartment, and never even dared to ask for a single bouquet of flowers.
He always said, "Once we save enough for a down payment on a house, we’ll get married."
I believed him.
Yet every year when we got close to our target, an emergency would magically appear:
His uncle got into a car crash and needed settlement money.
His mother was diagnosed with severe diabetes and had to be hospitalized.
His childhood friend's startup went under and needed emergency cash.
I handed my paychecks over to him to manage, never once questioning where the money went.
Until my twenty-seventh birthday. I left work early to surprise him, only to overhear him talking on the phone with his buddy right outside his office:
"I’ll move on once Serena gets married. I just need to see her in a wedding dress to finally let it go."
"Chloe? Oh, she's easy to manage."
"She’s been with me for five years. Where else is she gonna go?"
"I already bought the ring for Serena. Spent twenty-five grand. The jewelry store threw in a free diamond pendant necklace as a promo gift. I'll just give it to Chloe tonight for her birthday. That’ll keep her happy."
I turned around in silence.
My dad was right all along. If a man makes you wait five years, it isn't because he can't afford a house. It's because he never planned to build a home with you.
I wasn't going to wait around for year six.
Five years ago, fresh out of college, I was drafting blueprints at an interior design firm, while Julian worked as a site supervisor on the construction lot next door.
Back then, he was tanned, scruffy, and ate takeout lunches while crouching on the curb every single day.
The first time I noticed him, he was handing his grilled chicken over to an elderly homeless woman collecting bottles near the site.
I thought he was a kind, gentle soul.
When he started courting me, he wouldn't even buy flowers. Instead, he left a two-dollar strawberry milk on my desk every single morning.
He did it for a whole month.
My coworkers laughed behind his back, calling him a cheapskate.
Yet with my head deep in love, I told myself that genuine thought mattered more than money.
I thought he was down-to-earth, unlike those smooth-talking guys.
My dad disapproved. He warned me that construction men bounced around jobs and lacked stability, telling me to find someone with an office career.
I had a screaming match with my dad, packed my bags, and moved straight into the basement apartment Julian was renting.
There were no windows. Black mold crept along the walls, and the sheets were perpetually damp.
I slept on one side, he slept on the other, separated by a wobbly folding table we scored at a flea market.
He would hold me and say, "Chloe, I’m so sorry you have to go through this."
I smiled and replied, "I don't mind. We just need to save our money, and once we buy our place, everything will be fine."
That year, he made project manager, and I landed a job at a prestigious design studio.
Every time I brought up marriage, he urged me to wait. "We're just a little short on the down payment."
That "wait" stretched into five long years.
Whenever I walked past real estate agencies, I would stop in front of their glass windows, staring at the listings.
I’d calculate in my head how much more we needed for our down payment.
In reality, two years ago, we had already saved eighty thousand dollars—more than enough for a down payment on a cozy two-bedroom starter home.
Julian insisted he wanted to give me something better.
"Let’s save a bit more. Once we hit a hundred thousand, we can buy a spacious place in a better neighborhood."
Then, his uncle allegedly hit a pedestrian, and Julian pulled out twenty-five grand.
Then came his mother's diabetes complications, draining another ten grand.
Soon after, his childhood friend ran out of cash flow, borrowing eight thousand more.
Our hundred-thousand-dollar fund withered away to thirty thousand.
He told me not to worry. He swore he’d hustle harder, promising we would reach the goal next year.
And once again, I believed him.
Looking back now, that twenty-five grand bought Serena's diamond ring.
And those other withdrawals? God only knew what luxury gifts he showered upon her.
I didn't even dare to dwell on it.
I went back to the basement, opened my laptop, and pulled up my CAD design software.
It was the interior layout for our future home.
I had spent an entire month perfecting it.
It was based on the floor plan of the suburban community we both adored.
The master bedroom faced south, featuring a massive bay window where we could sit and soak up the sun.
The secondary bedroom was designed as a nursery, its walls washed in a warm butter-yellow.
An open-concept kitchen, because he once claimed he loved watching me cook.
And an entire accent wall in the living room reserved for framing our photos from the day we met until now.
None of it mattered anymore.
I hovered my mouse over the file and hit delete.
The prompt popped up: *Are you sure you want to permanently delete this file?*
I clicked *Yes*.The second the design file vanished, my hand began to tremble.
It wasn't heartbreak. It was pure, sickening realization of how stupid I had been.
Five years. How on earth had I been this blind?
I stood up and surveyed the damp basement where I had spent half a decade.
Taped to the peeling wall was a Polaroid we took the day we moved in.
In the picture, I was smiling like an idiot while he held me close, promising that once we bought a house, he would frame this photo in the center of our living room.
I peeled the Polaroid off the wall and tore it straight down the middle.
His half went into the trash can.
My half went into my pocket.
Not as a keepsake, but as a permanent reminder never to be this pathetic again.
I began packing my bags.
I opened the closet to pull out my clothes.
Truth be told, there was barely anything worth taking.
Over the past five years, solely to save for that down payment, I rarely bought new clothes.
Most of my wardrobe was faded and worn, with the newest pieces being cheap twenty-dollar finds off Amazon.
He always promised that once he made real money, he’d spoil me with the best.
So I wore the same cheap winter coat through three freezing seasons.
Julian, on the other hand, owned several sharp designer jackets—all purchased with my year-end bonuses.
That black cashmere coat cost nearly six hundred dollars. I couldn't even justify buying something like that for myself.
Back then, I told myself that a man working in project management needed to look respectable, or people would look down on him.
I folded my few clothes neatly into a single suitcase.
Next came the bathroom: my toothbrush, my mug, my skincare products...
One by one, I scrubbed away every trace of my existence from this miserable room.
While clearing out the nightstand drawer, I found an old envelope.
I opened it. It was a letter my dad mailed me last winter.
Inside was a single handwritten line: *Sweetheart, Mom and Dad are always here. You can come home whenever you want.*
Back then, I thought my dad was just being stubborn and unsupportive, so I shoved the letter into the drawer without even reading the rest.
Staring at those words now, tears spilled from my eyes.
My parents ran a small mom-and-pop grocery store back in our hometown. We weren't wealthy, but they had never let me suffer a single hardship growing up.
Yet for Julian's sake, I had severed ties, shouted at them, and moved away.
For the past five years, outside of Christmas, I barely visited home.
Over the years, my parents stopped actively fighting my relationship.
They only asked quietly over the phone: "You two have been together for so long. When are you getting married?"
Every time, I repeated the same lie: "Next year. Julian and I will definitely have enough for a house and get married next year."
Next year turned into another next year.
Last year, my mom called and asked softly, "Honey, when are you actually getting married? Mom has already stitched together custom handmade quilts for your new home."
I told her, "Soon, Mom. Very soon."
My mom sighed and said, "Okay. Mom trusts you."
My parents trusted me unconditionally, yet I had spent five years deceiving myself.
I pulled out my bank card.
It was my salary account, but the balance was practically zero.
For five years, every time my direct deposit hit, I kept only three hundred dollars for my own monthly expenses and transferred every remaining dime to Julian.
He told me he was managing our portfolio in high-yield investment funds to earn better interest for our down payment.
I never questioned it.
Looking back, what investment portfolio? He was funneling my hard-earned sweat into another woman.
I grabbed my phone, preparing to text him to demand my money back.
After a beat, I set it down.
Whether it was the money or the five wasted years, we needed to settle this face-to-face.
Today was my birthday. The timing couldn't be more perfect.
My suitcase was packed. I sat on the edge of the mattress and waited.
At six-thirty, the deadbolt clicked.Julian pushed the door open, carrying a bakery box and a small gift bag.
The basement room was so cramped that his frame took up half the doorway.
"Happy birthday, Chloe!"
He held the cake out, swinging it playfully in front of me with a wide grin.
That smile used to feel warm and sunny to me; now, it looked nauseatingly fake.
My open suitcase was resting right in the middle of the floor, yet he didn't even notice.
He was too busy proudly shoving the cake and the little gift box into my hands.
The cake was a perk from his company—employees' partners got a complimentary mini cake on their birthdays.
It was barely four inches wide, coated in cheap, oily artificial frosting with a sickeningly sweet chemical smell.
For the past four years, every single birthday cake I received had come from that same company perk.
Except this year, there was an extra gift.
"Open it. See what I bought you."
I drew a small jewelry case from the bag.
It was wrapped in deep blue velvet. I didn't recognize the designer, but the packaging screamed high-end.
I popped it open. A diamond pendant necklace lay cushioned inside.
The diamonds were small, but the craftsmanship was delicate, glittering under the dull lightbulb.
It was genuinely gorgeous...
If I hadn't overheard his phone call an hour ago, I might have wept with joy.
Instead, I froze.
I stared quietly at the necklace.
A twenty-five-thousand-dollar custom ring for someone else, and the freebie promotional necklace for me.
And here he was, looking smug, convinced he was boyfriend of the year.
"Do you love it?" he asked, leaning in close.
I didn't answer. I just asked, "How much was it?"
"Don't worry about the price. As long as it looks stunning on you, that’s all that matters."
He reached out to clasp it around my neck, but I brushed his hands away.
"Julian."
"Yeah?"
"Where did this necklace actually come from?"
He blinked, then laughed awkwardly. "I bought it, obviously. Where else would it come from?"
"How much did you spend?" My voice was deadpan.
Julian puffed out his chest, grinning. "A couple grand!"
"Why didn't you save that money for our down payment?"
Julian thought I was just being frugal, so he quickly replied:
"You've been by my side for so many years, and I’ve barely bought you anything nice. For once, I wanted to spoil you. I wanted to do it!"
Ah. So he *did* know he had never given me anything nice.
Yet this "nice" thing was merely another woman’s free gift-with-purchase.
When he pursued me: two-dollar strawberry milk.
Every birthday: a free company cake.
This birthday: another girl's promotional leftover.
Julian wasn't practical, nor was he clueless about romance.
In his eyes, I was simply cheap.
The moment the truth crystallized, I laughed.
I laughed until tears pricked my eyes.
Julian mistook my laughter for pure happiness.
"This is just the beginning, Chloe. In the future, once we..."
"Which jewelry store did you buy it from?" I cut him off. "Where’s the receipt?"
My sharp questions wiped the smile from his face, replaced by sudden annoyance.
"What is your problem? I went out of my way to give you a gorgeous gift, why do you have to ruin the mood like this?"
He assumed I wanted to return it for a refund.
"I told you not to worry about it! It’s yours, just wear it."
He shoved the necklace back into the box and pushed it toward my hand.
I didn't take it.
"Julian, forget the necklace for a second. Let's talk about buying a house."
He frowned, then forced another tight smile.
"Fine. It's your birthday. We can talk about whatever you want."
I took a steady breath.
"I ran the numbers. With the money we have saved right now, we can afford a modest condo. We don't have to wait until we hit a hundred grand. The development I toured a few days ago has two-bedroom units under seventy grand down payment. We're very close. I can ask my parents to help bridge the small gap—"
"No way in hell!"Julian cut me off harshly, his voice snapping like a whip.
"Your parents already look down on me! You want me to beg them for money? And buy a tiny place? That’ll just prove them right!"
"They wouldn't think that—"
"Like hell they wouldn't!" His voice rose, bouncing off the concrete walls. "Did you forget what your dad said? Telling me construction workers are deadbeats, saying I’d amount to nothing in life! If I go buy some cramped, pathetic condo now, wouldn't that just hand him the satisfaction?!"
I looked at him.
The veins on his neck were pulsing with rage.
Yet I knew he didn't actually give a damn about my parents' opinion.
If he truly cared about my parents, or about me, he wouldn't have kept me living in a moldy basement for five years.
Between the two of us, our combined monthly income was over five thousand dollars. We weren't wealthy, but renting a decent, clean apartment for twelve hundred a month would have been effortless.
Yet every single time I suggested moving, he manipulated me: "Let’s rough it out for another year so we can save for our down payment faster."
The chronic eczema I developed from the damp air, the way I shivered violently taking cold showers in the winter—none of it ever broke his heart.
Every single time, it was: "Just endure it," "Wait a bit longer," "Once we get our down payment, life will be perfect"...
Now I finally understood. The down payment he was scraping together wasn't for our house.
It was for Serena’s diamond ring!
I stared at him calmly and asked, "Then what do you propose we do?"
His tone instantly softened. "Chloe, just give me one more year. Next year, I promise—"
"Next year and then another next year," I interrupted. "Every single year you say that. I've waited five years, Julian. I’m twenty-seven years old!"
"What's wrong with twenty-seven? You're still young!"
Julian shrugged casually. "People marry late these days. Look at Serena, she isn't married either..."
"Does Serena not getting married mean I can't get married either?!" I raised my voice.
Julian froze, his expression stiffening.
"Chloe, what is your deal tonight? Can't we just have a normal birthday without you picking fights?"
"I'm done waiting, Julian."
"What does that mean?"
I sucked in a deep breath, fighting back the stinging tears in my eyes.
"I went over my accounts. For the past five years, every single paycheck minus my three hundred dollars for living expenses, along with every single year-end bonus, was transferred straight to your bank account. It totals thirty-eight thousand dollars. Give it back to me."
"I'm not waiting on your down payment anymore. We're through."
Julian stared at me in absolute disbelief, stunned that I was the one pulling the trigger.
"Chloe, you're being..."
Before he could finish, Bruno Mars's *Marry You* suddenly blasted from his pocket.
Julian pulled out his phone instantly and darted out the door into the hallway to answer.
That wasn't his standard ringtone.
It was a custom ringtone for one specific contact.
Serena. No question about it.
The soundproofing in the basement was practically nonexistent.
Even through the thin door, I could clearly hear the gentle, tender cadence of his voice.
"Don't panic. I'm coming over right now."
He hung up, walked back inside, grabbed his jacket off the chair, and headed for the door.
"There's an emergency at the construction site. I have to go."
"Whatever you just said, I'll pretend I didn't hear it. Get some sleep and cool off!"
He genuinely thought I was throwing a harmless tantrum.
I stepped in his way. "If you walk out that door right now, we are done forever."
Julian didn't even spare me a glance. Tossing back an indifferent "We’ll talk when I get back," he slammed the door behind him.
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
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