Chapter 4

For the next few days, not wanting to see them, I left early and returned late every day.

On Saturday, while I was still thinking about how to avoid them, I woke up to find they had already gone out.

In the evening, James sent me a message: "No need to cook tonight, I'll bring food back for you."

Since I didn't feel like cooking anyway, I didn't refuse.

Around 8 PM, James and Lily returned with several bags.

Their laughter could be heard even before they entered the apartment.

James put the takeout on the dining table: "Emma, I brought you some Japanese food. Come and eat."

These past few days, James had been trying to please me, either consciously or unconsciously.

I didn't know if he genuinely felt he had done something wrong, or if he was just placating me, hoping I would end the cold war quickly.

I glanced at the bags they brought back.

The orange Louis Vuitton shopping bag was particularly eye-catching.

Lily took out the LV handbag from the bag, showing it off in front of me: "Sister, isn't this bag beautiful?"

"James bought it for me, saying it's to celebrate my escape from the threats of those loan sharks."

James noticed my gaze and said sheepishly: "You didn't go today, so another day I'll take you shopping and buy you one too."

I looked at the bag hanging on the back of the door, which I had bought from a second-hand platform and had been using for five years, and suddenly found it somewhat amusing.

One year on my birthday, James said he wanted to buy me a luxury handbag as a birthday gift.

His regular salary was mostly deposited into our joint account, leaving him with little money for himself. The money he said he would use to buy me a bag was his overtime pay for half a year.

I felt sorry for him and thought that for a handbag, a second-hand one would be fine.

So I told him to buy one from a second-hand website.

Now that I think about it, I was wrong. In all these years with James, I had placed myself too low. Because I loved him, I always thought more about him, always felt that being together meant working hard towards a common goal.

I always thought James felt the same way.

I always thought he couldn't bear to take me to nice restaurants, couldn't bear to give me expensive things, couldn't bear to go out and play with me, because he wanted to save money to give me a home.

But I was terribly mistaken. As time went on, he only came to think that I didn't deserve these things, that there was no need to spend money or effort buying these things for me, and that I would always stay by his side anyway.

At this moment, it was as if I suddenly woke up.

No longer hysterical, no longer trying to evoke his love through the cold war.

I quietly walked to the dining table and put the scattered pieces of sushi, which looked like their leftovers, into my mouth.

The determination to end this seven-year relationship filled me at this moment.

After eating, I slowly spoke: "Weren't you supposed to be looking for an apartment? When are you moving out?"

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