Love Has Become a Dilemma

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The day my mother, Amelia, married Arthur Cullen, his father, Danny Dant was drunk. His eyes, bloodshot and raw, fixed on me.

Joanna Cole, he slurred, was letting your mother marry into wealth your only purpose for being with me?

Fine! Just fine!

In that moment, the damaged boy I had so desperately tried to save turned to hate me completely.

He didn't break up with me.

But from that day forward, he changed, bringing different women home every single night.

Now, he had set his sights on the new secretary.

This time, though, it was different. Three months had passed, and he still hadn't ended things with me.

On New Year's Eve, I saw them both at a Michelin-starred restaurant.

I was working late, closing a deal.

He and Chloe Dant were having a candlelit dinner.

Ten years of shared love, yet we sat at adjacent tables, like strangers.

I spoke eloquently, smiled politely, but the clients hand grazed mine with an unwelcome familiarity, implicitly offering a hotel room key.

Just as the situation hung in an awkward stalemate, a sudden BOOM ripped through the air outside. Fireworks exploded across the night sky.

DANNY DANT LOVES CHLOE DANT

In that moment, I looked at Danny.

My heart plummeted.

He had won.

After the meeting, I turned and made a call.

"Mom, I agree to break up with him. Arrange for me to go abroad next week."

1.

Still on the phone, I walked aimlessly through the streets.

The last night of the year was unusually cold. Sleet fell, and the wind howled, piercing straight to the bone. As the New Year's bells chimed, cheers erupted from passersby. I followed the sound, and across the digital screen of Cullen Tower, a line of text scrolled brightly.

"Wishing Cullen Corp's most beautiful and capable fairy, Chloe Dant, a Happy New Year."

On the first day of the New Year, that name still lingered relentlessly. The envious murmurs of strangers reached my mother through the phone. She seethed. "This is too much! I'm going to talk to Arthur about it."

"No need, Mom. I'm leaving anyway."

I hung up, detached, no longer gasping for air from the pain. Only when the ride-sharing app showed a two-hour wait did a strange irritation bubble up.

A discordant honk broke through the silence. Danny's car pulled up, following me at a discreet distance. Chloe leaned out of the passenger window, greeting me with an exaggerated warmth.

"Joanna, heading home?"

"Mmm," I replied flatly.

She feigned elaborate sympathy, practically plastered against Danny. "Oh, it'll take ages to get a cab tonight! We're going the same way, but Alaric sent so many gifts, the back seat is completely full. Otherwise, we could have given you a ride."

I stopped, peering through the car window. A massive bouquet of flowers indeed occupied most of the back seat. Before I could look closer, a suit jacket was flung hard at my face. I instinctively caught it, and Danny's disdainful scoff reached my ears.

"Cover up that reek of alcohol. You smell disgusting. Don't go stinking up the place and getting complaints to the company."

The stiff suit jacket stung my face. Watching Danny's tail lights disappear, I tossed the jacket C which I had personally ironed, now tainted with another woman's scent C into a roadside donation bin.

I didn't get home until three hours later. The house was brightly lit but empty. He must have gone out again. I thought I was used to it. But as the bathroom filled with steam, and the ambiguous handprints on the mirror misted over, the alcohol in my stomach churned uncontrollably, mixing with tears as I vomited.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, dawn was breaking. My phone showed two unread messages. One was a flight confirmation. The other was from Danny.

[Busy, not coming back.]

Scrolling up, our communication over the past year was sparse. More often, it was Danny's curt [Busy] after I had frantically dialed countless unanswered voice calls. I instinctively clicked on Chloe's social media. As expected, a meticulously curated nine-panel grid. Nine hundred ninety-nine roses, New Year's fireworks The centerpiece was a mirror selfie of her and Danny, embracing. I recognized the reflection; it was Danny's property on the west side of town. In the corner of the mirror, a faded sticker from a movie we once saw, a character from "Zootopia," was still stuck. It was now waterlogged and peeling, disgustingly limp.

Danny didn't come back for the next few days. My housekeeper was on holiday, leaving the vast house empty, with only the timely delivery of takeout reminding me of the passage of time. Spicy noodles, Kung Pao chicken, "blood curd" hotpot When the fifth takeout box appeared on the table, I couldn't stomach it anymore. I swept them all into the trash, then took a photo and sent it to Danny.

[Don't order anymore. I don't like spicy food.]

The phone rang almost immediately. Danny's voice, husky and laced with an afterglow, was tinged with impatience. "Throwing a tantrum by starving yourself, are we? Fine. Just don't call me when you end up in the hospital again."

Chloe's playful, peacemaking voice chimed in. "Joanna, just try it! Alaric and I tried all these places, they're super delicious!"

"Ignore her. She can eat it or not."

I pressed my lips together, silently biting back the humiliating question I wanted to ask. Danny, you remember I have a stomach condition and need regular meals, but do you remember I ended up in the hospital because of spicy food? The words caught in my throat for a moment, before I finally replied, "I'll order my own."

"Ha, order your own?" Danny repeated, his tone ambiguous, then scoffed. "Joanna, you're not asking for food, you're just asking for money, aren't you?"

2.

"Joanna, aren't you and your mother just after my family's money?"

The mocking voice overlapped with the memory, still hitting me hard a year later. Tears fell onto the dining table. When I came back to myself, the call had already ended. My bank account showed a transfer of fifteen thousand dollars, along with a voice message from Danny.

"Five thousand for meals, ten thousand for your errand fee. Chloe left a bra strap in the sofa cushion. Find it and bring it to her when Arthur gets to work."

Moving aside the matching throw pillows, I found the black bra strap in the crevice. The sofa was one Danny and I had picked out together at the furniture store. The moment I saw it, I loved it. Danny tested its firmness and softness, smiling as he agreed. "The size is perfect. I'll even ask for extra throw pillows so we'll be more comfortable." Lovers, in the throes of passion, often speak with double meanings. I playfully chided him, and he laughed. That's how we picked out one item after another, decorating the home in our hearts.

But now, looking at the things I had carefully chosen, and seeing them in the same space as him and another woman, I felt only repulsion and sickness. Since I was leaving, I might as well throw everything away.

From dawn until dusk, I packed. Eight years of love transformed into five boxes of junk and one suitcase. Only after triple-checking that nothing of mine remained in the house did the unsettling feeling finally subside. Now, only one last item remained.

I pulled out a photo album from the bedside drawer. Inside, two hundred seventy-nine photos had been torn to shreds, then painstakingly taped back together. From after our high school graduation to college, then living together and working, the photo paper chronicled my entire youth with Danny. The last photo was from New Year's Eve last year, where we raised our glasses, celebrating seven years together under the fireworks.

Three days after that photo was taken, Arthur, who had been widowed for years, and my mother, divorced for years, announced at dinner that they wanted to spend their lives together. Dannys face remained impassive, indicating his approval. I, too, was happy for them. But back in our home, he tore the photos and threw them at me, screaming. "Joanna, you and your mother are both equally shameless. Aren't you just after my family's money? And you talk about 'adding to the family'? How disgusting!"

I stood there, bewildered, watching him vent his rage, helpless. Danny and I had learned the news at the same time. I thought he had truly accepted it. I carefully removed all the photos, tearing them along the same delicate lines I had once meticulously re-glued, and tossed them into the pile of junk.

3.

The next time I saw Danny was at the first morning meeting after the holidays. He sat at the head of the table, and Chloe sat beside him, whispering and laughing intimately. Our relationship had never been public at the company. In the past, to avoid suspicion, our most affectionate gesture was just a shared, knowing smile. My gaze fell on his well-defined hands on the table. On his left middle finger, there should have been a plain silver band, a matching pair to my necklace. It was something Danny had earned from part-time jobs during college, before his family became wealthy. But now, it was replaced by a gold ring with a green emerald, a dazzling, matching couple's set, just like the one on Chloes hand.

It wasn't until a colleague gently nudged me that I snapped back to reality. She offered a sympathetic whisper, "Don't be sad, Joanna. Everyone knows what she did to get ahead. You're the real top salesperson in our hearts." Hearing this, I stared, bewildered, at the large digital screen. Todays meeting was the annual summary, and the top sales position was conspicuously held by Chloe Dant, someone who didn't even belong to our sales department. With just one project, she had pushed me, with my twenty-seven completed projects, to second place.

Dannys explanation was that this single project yielded significantly higher revenue than the others. But this project was one I had painstakingly closed during my overtime on New Years Eve, the details of which, along with a subtle hint, I had placed on his desk that very morning. He had seen with his own eyes the difficulties I overcame to secure that contract.

My pen slipped, tearing the paper, making a strikingly loud sound in the awkward silence of the meeting. After the meeting, Danny called me into his office alone. Both of us were stubborn, neither speaking first. Dannys face grew increasingly grim. His hand tapped impatiently on the table, the ring on his finger glinting, hurting my eyes. I couldn't hold back anymore.

"Is there something you need?"

"Don't you have anything to ask?"

Both voices spoke at once. I paused, then smiled. Ask what? Ask why he didn't come home on our anniversary? Why he gave my project to someone else? Or how much longer he intended for us to torture each other? For me now, none of it mattered. The resignation letter I submitted to HR yesterday, approved directly by Arthur, would finalize my departure today. The house was already empty of my belongings. My packed suitcase was in the trunk, ready for me to head straight to the airport after work.

I calmly continued, "If there's nothing, I'll be leaving."

Danny stared at me, his face dark. "Where are my things?"

It took me a moment to realize he was referring to his "anniversary" gift. Every year, we would make each other a handmade gift, but given how things had turned out this year, I thought we had an unspoken understanding. "I forgot," I offered a perfunctory excuse.

Dannys face hardened. He impatiently tugged at his tie. "Joanna, can't you have some empathy? Haven't I given you enough money? Do you really have to cause a scene over this?"

"Chloe lives in this city alone. My accompanying her on New Year's Eve was a gesture of corporate goodwill. And she needs this bonus more than you do." He paused, then added awkwardly, "If you really want this bonus, I can just give it to you directly."

Those words negated all my efforts. After our argument last year, I worked tirelessly, pulling all-nighters, achieving six-figure sales for several consecutive months. I wanted to show him that I truly wasn't after his money, that I could earn plenty on my own. But I vividly remembered Dannys condescending expression back then when he said, "Isn't all this money from my family anyway?" Fearing that contemptuous look again, I shook my head. "No need. Is there anything else?"

He grumbled, a frustrated "Tsk," sounding almost like he was gritting his teeth. "No."