Chapter 3: Doubt and Dread

I’d been with my girlfriend for about four or five years, and both our families were starting to nudge us toward marriage.

Just last week, I suggested we do a premarital health check first. She hesitated.

"Huh? Isn’t that optional?"

I didn’t think much of it then.

"The checkup’s free, and if we do it, we get a few extra days off for marriage leave. Don’t you want a longer honeymoon? This way, we can really enjoy it."

The sound of running water came from the bathroom—she was showering.

When did she do all this behind my back?

I stared at my phone and suddenly caught a detail I’d missed.

Almost half a year?

I remembered—she was doing her master’s at the art school. Half a year ago, she’d been out of town for a project for over a month.

So… it happened then?

My jaw clenched, and I felt rage boiling up inside me.

Just then, the bathroom door swung open. I quickly flipped my phone screen.

She came out in thin pajamas, hair still damp, rubbing her arms. "Babe, come snuggle with me, I’m freezing."

I couldn’t help picturing her with another guy, and they didn’t even use… My stomach twisted—I almost threw up.

I forced myself to swallow my anger, faking a cough.

"Babe, I think I’m coming down with something. Don’t want to get you sick."

She didn’t suspect a thing, just crawled into bed and turned her back to me.

My smile vanished the second she couldn’t see it.

That night, I didn’t sleep a wink.

The old radiator clanked in the corner, barely fighting off the November chill. A half-eaten pizza box sat on the coffee table, the smell of cold cheese mixing with my panic. I lay there, eyes burning holes in the ceiling, listening to her soft, even breathing. I could hear the fridge hum, the pipes creak, all the apartment’s little noises that used to feel like home. Now, everything seemed brittle and false, like I was trapped in someone else’s life. At one point, I nearly got up and left, keys in hand. But I stayed, numb and wide awake, until dawn started to creep through the blinds.

As I stared up at the ceiling, I remembered the night we built that stupid IKEA shelf together, laughing until the screws rolled under the couch. Now, it felt like someone else’s memory.