I started focusing on my work.
During lunch, Zachary sent another message.
opened it to see a picture.
“The food at the company cafeteria, not bad, right?”
I didn’t reply.
He sent another message: “What did you have for lunch?”
I couldn’t understand. Was Zachary trying to share his life with me?
In the past, this was always what I did.
I scrolled up through our chat history, seeing large blocks of text, all from me talking one–sidedly.
Because I liked Zachary, I always wanted to share things with him.
Seeing a cute dog on the street, drinking a delicious beverage, being praised or criticized by the boss, tripping while walking, discovering a new trendy spot…
I liked to share all these little things from daily life with him.
When we first started dating, we had back–and–forth conversations.
Gradually, it turned into me sending a bunch of messages, and him only replying to the last one, usually with just two or three words.
I knew that much of what I enthusiastically shared, he probably didn’t even bother to look at.
I went from feeling disappointed at first to getting used to it later.
Who told me to like him so much? Who told me to love so humbly?
Finally, my enthusiasm for sharing faded away. I lost the desire to send him messages.
Looking at our recent chat history, I realized that in a week, I hadn’t initiated a single message to him.
8
Today was Friday, and some colleagues suggested having dinner together.
D
<
In the past, I never participated in such gatherings.
When I first started working, I occasionally had dinner with colleagues.
But Zachary often went out for dinner with his college roommates, only eating at home two or three days a week.
Once, when I was out having dinner with colleagues, Zachary happened to come home early that day. He called and asked where I
was.
felt very frustrated, thinking that he rarely ate at home, and I had missed one of those rare occasions.
After that, to avoid missing the chance to have dinner with him, I stopped participating in colleague gatherings altogether.
Every evening after work, I would rush home early, cook dinner myself, and wait for Zachary’s occasional presence.
As a result, my relationships with colleagues were all quite superficial.
After working for several years, I was still just an acquaintance with the people in the same office.
Thinking about it, I said to the colleague next to me, “Where are you having dinner tonight? I’ll join you.”
The colleague excitedly shouted, “Wow, even Olivia is joining! No one’s allowed to bail tonight. It’s rare for all of us to get together!”
Just before getting off work, I received a call from Zachary.
“Olivia, I’ll come pick you up later. Let’s go buy groceries. We haven’t eaten at home together in a long time.”
“No need. I’m having dinner with colleagues tonight.”
“Can you-”
“I always skip these gatherings. I’m already quite unsociable. I can’t back out,” I interrupted what he was about to say.
This dinner gathering was a rare occasion where everyone from the department was present, and everyone was in high spirits.
I had a few drinks too.
During the meal, Zachary called me several times, asking when we would finish and saying he’d come pick me up.
I told him not to bother, that I wasn’t sure when we’d finish, everyone was having a great time, and he should go to bed first.
“Where are you having dinner? I’ll come over and wait outside. It’s not safe for a girl to go home alone late at night.”
I could hardly believe these words came from Zachary.
After all, he had once refused to pick me up from the airport at 1 AM when I returned from a business trip.
He said he had to get up early for work the next day and couldn’t stay up late.
He also said that the airport was crowded, and it was easy to get a cab even late at night. He told me to just share my location with
him, and there was no need to worry about safety.
But now, when it wasn’t even 9 PM, he was concerned about my safety going home alone.
Are men really this fickle?
At 9:30 PM, Zachary messaged saying he was already outside the restaurant.
1:05 PM
<
000
The dinner ended around 10 PM, and as soon as I walked out the main door, I saw him waiting at the entrance.
“Have you been drinking?” he came over to support me.
“Just a little red wine,” I said. My alcohol tolerance was poor, and even a small glass made me feel dizzy.
Zachary helped me into the passenger seat and fastened my seatbelt.
He got into the driver’s seat but didn’t start the car immediately. Instead, he leaned over and hugged me.
“So this is what it feels like to wait for someone. I’m sorry, Olivia. I’ve made you wait for me so many times before. It won’t happen
again.”
I frowned and pushed him away, mumbling, “Start driving! I want to go home and sleep!”
He chuckled softly and patted my head: “With such low alcohol tolerance, you still dare to drink? I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you
from now on. You might get taken advantage of without even realizing it.”
It was as if Zachary had been possessed by someone else. He had completely changed.
Our roles were reversed, and he became the clingy one.
He picked me up from work on time every day, stopped hanging out with his roommates, and insisted on having dinner at home with
- me.
I told him I needed to study for the certification exam and didn’t have time or energy to cook.
He said he would do it.
And he really did what he said.
Every day when we got home, he would buy groceries at the supermarket outside our apartment complex and start busying himself in the kitchen as soon as we got in.
i had thought Zachary didn’t know how to cook.
After all, he had never cooked a meal for me.
Unexpectedly, his culinary skills were quite good.
It turns out it wasn’t that he couldn’t cook; he just wasn’t willing to cook for me.
Chloe had once posted a photo of the porridge he made for her on SnapChat.
Now, Zachary seemed eager to show off all his cooking skills to me, preparing different dishes every day.
After dinner, he wouldn’t even let me wash the dishes, urging me to go study instead.
Zachary’s attentiveness and thoughtfulness, however, made me feel uneasy.
I didn’t feel relaxed at all, only more pressured.
Because while I was studying, he would constantly open the door of the study, asking if I wanted water or fruit.
He was disturbing me.
