Last night, she broke up with him. On the White Valentine's Day they met one year, one month and one day ago, he decided to end their relationship, reasoning that perhaps he had acted too hastily.
She did not cry. She just found it somewhat absurd. He stated, "My work is too hectic; the remaining time is required to accompany you, and I barely have any personal time left."
She agreed wholeheartedly and thus did not blame him. Instead, she understood. He was really engrossed in his work, spinning like a top all day long. More than once, she had complained, "Why are you always so busy?" However, she did not wish for him to set aside all his work just to keep her company; rather, she hoped that he would take care of his health. A call from him before sleep time was enough for her. However, he seemed to believe that a daily phone call to her took up all his personal timeframe. She began to self-reflect— was she his burden?
Their time together was not long. He was even younger than her by half a year. Initially, she opposed dating a younger guy, no matter how he persuaded, she held prejudice. But as they spent more time together, she truly saw his maturity, stability, sincerity, and ambition. A 24-year-old boy, perhaps not yet a man, manifested in him the qualities and responsibilities a man should have. She admitted she had fallen for him.
Her emotional world was not complicated, and he held a special meaning for her in a certain sense. They held hands, they kissed; she could feel the sweet happiness from his palm and his kisses. They had also met each other's parents. Her mother felt that he was too distant from their family and always had a thorn in her side against agreeing.
She put in many good words, and these days, her mother finally softened. The reality is so ironic when she was over the moon, believing this to be their future, a future of happiness and smooth sailing, he proposed breaking up. Because he felt too youthful to fulfill his promises and unable to handle such pressure, all he could do was to apologize to her.
She told him he was heartless. He agreed, admitting it to be his selfishness, declaring that many people had said the same.
She was lost for words. Once a man sets his heart on something, don't expect him to look back. Her heart was truly aching, it hurt horribly. Initially, she didn't feel it, but once she lay down, the pain was as if a knife was brutally carving into her flesh.
She didn't cry, didn't make a fuss, and definitely didn't resort to offensive words. This was her remaining pride and self-esteem. She didn't curse hysterically, nor blame others— she quietly bid him goodnight and ended their relationship.
She forced herself to close her eyes and sleep, but his words and actions kept echoing in her mind. The tender and considerate gestures that had once moved her were seemingly burdens to him. Her heart shattered. She was left sleepless all night.
She loved it when he called her 'babe,' 'darling,' 'my princess...' because it made her feel truly loved and cherished. He had planned out their future—engagement at the end of the year, marriage the next. She was looking forward to it. But, he merely had a meal with a friend. His friend suggested it would be better if he stayed single for a couple more years. On his return, he abruptly ended their relationship.
Was he heartless, or too cold? He regarded himself as cold-blooded.
Women are emotional creatures. After chatting with him on QQ last night, she couldn't help but call him. Though her heart was bleeding, she put on a smile and wished him a happy future. She thought herself foolish. But she loved the fragrant tobacco smell lingering on him; he enjoyed smoking Yuxi cigarettes. She loved the warmth his broad palm provided as it held her hand, and despite the rough calluses formed due to his demanding job, she cherished its slight numbness. She loved the intoxication and passion when he kissed her; the deep happiness she could see in his eyes. She loved his mature thinking, domineering concerns, even the sight of him in dirty work clothes; she loved it all.
Once in love, a woman will choose to tolerate him endlessly. In the end, she could only be met with scars all over.
With a hoarse voice, she called her closest friend, Zhao Jingyao: "Jingyao, I have broken up with Chu Mofeng."
She cannot see Jing Yao's expression, but she can hear worry and frustration in her agitated breath: "Qiaoqiao, I am coming to you immediately, wait for me!"
She didn't really attempt suicide.
While peeling an apple, she was carelessly cut by the knife, injuring the major artery in her hand.
Yao Yao was holding onto her and howling, "Jian Qiao, why are you so foolish? Is that man worth your reckless behavior? Have you lost your mind? QiaoQiao, QiaoQiao!"
She could feel the blood continuously gushing from her body, draining her strength. Yao Yao's heartbreaking crying was ringing in her ears, and the lack of oxygen in her brain blurring her consciousness. She wanted very much to explain to Yao Yao that she didn't commit suicide, it was just an accident, but then darkness wrapped her up.
With a clear pain shooting from her wrist, she couldn't help but moan. She slowly opened her eyes, endured the splitting pain. She was met with desolate white. She attempted to brush away the hair fallen on her forehead only to feel acute pain.
Yao Yao was scolding her without mercy, "Jian Qiao, has your brain gone mushy? It is nothing more than failed love – there are countless people experience this every day. If every heartbroken person tried to commit suicide, wouldn't the world lose half its population?” Her words were harsh and urgent, and Jian Qiao could tell both the hurt and the disappointment.
Innocently, she blinked at Yao Yao and let out a voice harsher than a duck. Her vocal cords were badly torn. Yao Yao, with her scolding, nonetheless promptly brought a glass of water. After sipping the water, Jian Qiao finally felt slightly better, although still weak: "Yao Yao, I never wanted to commit suicide. It was really an accident, you all misunderstood.” If she wasn't suicidal, how could she accidentally cut such a sensitive spot? Maybe there was such a subconscious thought, and this scares her.
She was obviously in disbelief: "How do you accidentally cut so deep? A few minutes later, and you would have been gone." After saying that, she slapped her own mouth, "damn my crow's mouth."
A touch of warmth welled up in Jian Qiao's cold heart - this is Yoshiya, a sharp tongue but a soft heart. With her good right hand, she grabbed Yao Yao's hand: "Yao Yao, if I really wanted to kill myself, would I still call you?"
Considering it, she seemed to have a point, doubtful she said: "Really?"
Jian Qiao managed to pull out a smile more difficult than crying but still promised earnestly: "Really." Then the tears began to fall down rapidly.