I had been with Matthew Wagner for three years.

He always went along with whatever I wanted. We never fought.

All my friends envied me for having a boyfriend so emotionally stable.

But I had looked into his past with his ex-girlfriend.

They had yelled, broken down, and made up again.

He had experienced both hysteria and happiness because of her.

That was when the idea of breaking up took root.

It was on a rainy day.

I was sitting in his car and had deliberately played a voice message from a male colleague.

"Callie, no matter how many times you reject me, I'll never give up."

The guy knew full well I had a boyfriend, yet he kept pursuing me relentlessly.

I had rejected him, avoided him, but he had only grown more determined.

I expected Matthew to say something.

But he only chuckled and teased, "You've got quite the charm."

There were no extra emotions or words beyond that.

It was as if the fact that I was being pursued had nothing to do with him.

I asked him, "Why do you never get jealous?"

"Why would I? I trust you."

The usual rationality and calmness.

He never let his emotions be swayed by me.

I asked again, "When it comes to my interactions with the opposite sex, where is your bottom line?"

He gripped the steering wheel, his gaze never straying.

"No physical infidelity, I suppose."

"Does it not matter even if I fall for someone else?"

He glanced at me.

"If you do fall for someone else, tell me. I'm willing to respect you."

All my efforts had felt like they were hitting a soft, unresponsive wall.

This familiar sense of powerlessness had been my daily experience over the past three years.

But after seeing those things...

Why had it suddenly become unbearable?

A sudden impact had come from the rear of the car.

With quick reflexes, he stretched his arm across to shield me in front.

Fortunately, there had been no car ahead, so there had been no chain collision.

He and I had gotten out of the car together to check the situation.

A quarreling couple had gotten out of a Porsche behind us.

The man's expression was grim. "It's all your fault for yelling nonstop—now we've crashed!"

"Why am I arguing with you? Don't you have any idea?"

"Enough, Mandy Harlan. Will you ever stop? People are watching!"

The woman had turned her eyes to us.

In the moment our eyes met, Matthew's phone suddenly slipped from his hand and hit the ground.

These hands of his, which could steady a precision surgical instrument, couldn't even hold a phone steady at this moment.

I bent down to pick it up for him.

A sudden urge to laugh came over me—laughing at how ridiculously coincidental life could be.

A week ago, I had seen this woman's face on this very phone.

A week later, she stood right in front of me.

It was as if fate was reminding me that their bond was far from over.

Yet Matthew and I were approaching our wedding day.

Matthew's G-Wagon was sturdy enough.

This collision had only scraped off a bit of paint.

Compared to this minor scratch, the other party's Porsche was severely damaged.

The man said, "I'm sorry. My girlfriend and I just had a fight, and I wasn't paying attention. Shall we go through insurance?"

Matthew waved his hand. "Forget it, no need."

The rain intensified, and he unfurled one side of his windbreaker, shielding me in his arms as he escorted me back to the car.

The car continued onward.

In the rearview mirror, Mandy's figure gradually shrank.

Yet the longing in her eyes kept growing, larger and larger.

I could see it—and Matthew must have seen it all too.

The rain pattered against the car windows.

I turned to look at Matthew, trying to find something on his face.

But he drove steadily, with a calm composure that revealed no trace of abnormality.

The car stopped at the destination.

He said, "We're here."

I froze for a moment, then rolled down the car window.

"I just got in the car from here a while ago.

"Matthew, I'm supposed to go home after work, not back to work."

He had just picked me up from the entrance of the law firm, yet he brought me back to the same spot.

He paused, rolled up the window, and restarted the car.

The sky was filled with twilight, and the traffic was bustling.

My heart felt as congested as this road.

There wasn't a single word exchanged between them during their reunion.

Yet in the silence, I seemed to hear one thunderclap after another.

Matthew and I started with a blind date that was a case of mistaken identity.

I walked into the wrong private room, and he mistook me for someone else.

We sat down and chatted.

From the initial awkwardness, we gradually hit it off as the conversation went on.

We both loved Marvel movies, and our favorite author was J. K. Rowling.

Even the dull hobby of fishing, which was rarely shared, was something we had in common.

We had talked for an hour without realizing it.

We had added each other on WhatsApp.

It wasn't until his actual blind date showed up that we realized we'd been chatting with the wrong person for the blind date.

Afterward, Matthew didn't delete me from WhatsApp, and I kept him in my contacts too.

We ended up meeting again at another blind date.

This time, we didn't get the wrong person.

We sat across from each other once more.

He smiled and said, "It seems we really have a bit of fate."

I asked him, "Didn't your last blind date work out?"

He countered, "Yours didn't either?"

"It's not easy to find someone who likes Marvel movies, J. K. Rowling, and fishing all at the same time."

He smiled and said, "Then how about giving it a try with me?"

That light-hearted sentence struck heavily into my heart, marking the start of our three-year relationship.

The car passed the spot where the rear-end collision had just happened.

Through the car window, I saw Mandy still lingering there.

Her boyfriend had left her alone, and she was crying—like a withered rose adrift in the wind and rain.

For a moment, Matthew's hand resting on the steering wheel tensed up.

The car came to a stop beside her.

Matthew quickly unbuckled his seatbelt.

He got out of the car with a dark expression, his steps hurried as he ran toward her.

He shouted, his voice laced with anger.

"Mandy, for fuck's sake, can't you see how heavy the rain is?

"Have you just been standing here getting soaked for an hour?"

Calm as he was, he rarely lost his composure like this.

I pressed my lips together, silently watching him lose his temper over another woman right in front of me.

Mandy hung her head, sobbing, "Matt, you'd never leave me by the roadside like he did."

In the rearview mirror, I saw Matthew's back gradually getting soaked, and his hands trembling slightly.

One of them had stayed put all along, while the other had gone around in circles only to return to the starting point.

Suddenly, I felt like I was the outsider.

Mandy got in the car.

She slid into the back seat and took the tissue he handed her.

His gaze finally turned to me.

"She's a friend of mine. Let's take her home first."

If she were just a friend, why hadn't they greeted each other earlier?

I didn't ask, perhaps because I knew the answer.

On the way, we passed a pharmacy, and he got out to pick up my medicine.

Mandy's voice came from the back seat.

"I'm his ex-girlfriend."

Seeing that I didn't respond, she added faintly, "Feelings really are like the saying—one generation plants trees so that the next can enjoy the shade."

Her words were steeped in intense unwillingness.

After all, she and Matthew had been in love for five years.

Whether in terms of duration or depth of feelings, I was at a disadvantage.

What Mandy didn't know was that a week ago, she'd sent Matthew a message late at night begging to get back together.

He'd quit smoking for a long time, but he'd unexpectedly smoked half a pack on the balcony that night.

His phone had no password.

He'd been so open and honest that I'd never had the slightest doubt.

But for the first time ever, I had peeked at his phone.

He had told her, "I'm getting married soon."

Not "I love my girlfriend," nor "I don't love you anymore."

Just a completely emotionless "I'm getting married soon."

I had memorized her phone number.

Following that thread, I found her other social media accounts.

She had kept all traces of their love.

They had met in college, each other's first love.

He had given her a custom couple's Lego set, which he had spent three days and nights building.

He had given her handwritten love letters, one every year.

He had given her a star named after her.

He had given me expensive gifts too, but every gift he had given her had held a thoughtfulness I had never received.

When she came into contact with other men, he would deliberately assert his claim in front of them.

He forbade her from talking to other men or smiling at them.

She laughed, saying he was so jealous it practically oozed off him.

He would take the opportunity to kiss her and ask, "Hmm, give me a kiss. Does it taste like it?"

When they quarreled and she threatened to break up, she hadn't even taken three steps before he hugged her tightly from behind.

With red eyes, he said, "Mandy, you'll never get to leave me for the rest of your life."

They loved each other with such intense passion that it bordered on obsession. In the end, their breakup was a messy and lingering affair.

I had stolen their memories like a thief, then pieced them together bit by bit to form a Matthew who was completely unfamiliar to me.

It had turned out that the steady and self-possessed Matthew could also sweet-talk to coax someone.

It had turned out that the rational and calm Matthew could also beg not to break up.

It had turned out that the cold and indifferent Matthew could also love someone passionately.

He could have been this lively.

It was just that he had never given me any of that clumsy warmth.

I turned to look out the window. The rain had stopped, and the ground was still wet.

Matthew walked over, carrying a large bag of medicine.

He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He stood tall and walked with his head held high.

How nice it would have been if he had been just an ordinary blind date.

Laying out all his qualities on the table, he had been more than excellent.

Anyone would have said he was the perfect choice for marriage.

But I had been craving his heart amid all those practical qualifications.

That was my biggest mistake in the blind date market.

I had averted my gaze and spoken softly, "I don't like enjoying the shade. I'm afraid of the cold."

I didn't want to enjoy the shade. I just wanted to lie under the warm sun.

I wanted to quarrel with him, laugh with him, and fool around with him.

I hoped he would love me passionately and clumsily.

The dense shade blocked out the sun, but I craved the scorching sun.

He had dropped Mandy home first.

Then the car had finally stopped at my door.

"Let's break up."

The dampness outside the car window had seeped into my eyes.

So when I said this, my vision had been foggy.

He grabbed me to stop me from getting out of the car, insisting on a reason.

I had met him on a blind date, we had been together for three years, and our wedding date had been set.

Everything had been falling into place, just one step away from the finish line.

It had been reasonable for him to ask for a reason.

I asked him, "Do you think suitability or love is more important?"

He didn't hesitate. "Suitability."

Suddenly, my nose had tingled, and my voice had finally choked up.

"Why can't both be important?"

I had once read a sentence online.

"Stable emotions and intense love cannot coexist.

"Because love never makes people rational."

He had known what I meant, but he hadn't been able to answer.

He could only have chosen silence.

So I had answered for him.

"Because love makes people lose their senses, while marriage strives for stability.

"Matthew, I hate your rationality. I hate being your 'suitable' choice."

I got out of the car and walked toward my house one step at a time.

Suddenly, I thought of the time she'd threatened to break up.

She'd gotten out of the car and walked less than five steps before he'd hugged her from behind.

That time, he'd choked up and begged her not to leave.

She'd written on her social media. "Someone who truly loves you won't let you walk away so easily."

I slowed my pace, inching forward little by little.

That short distance felt like a lifetime to traverse.

And over the course of that "lifetime," I walked without the slightest obstruction.

The next night, there was a gathering with friends.

I was in a daze, losing the game several times.

I really couldn't drink anymore, so I gave in and chose "truth" this time.

A friend asked me, "What was your 18th birthday wish?"

I lowered my eyes, then picked up the wine bottle and filled a glass for myself.

I tilted my head to look down at it, but a friend snatched the glass away.

"Hey, hey, no more drinking. You just agreed to choose truth."

"You have to tell the truth, or you'll be struck by lightning."

In the private room, a nostalgic English song played softly.

"I hope you'll stay with me—even if we're mismatched, it'll be fun.

"While you're happy, I'll ask who you like.

"But you said, 'Do you mean a romantic partner?'

"If it's that kind, I'm afraid it'll be tiring."

My tears suddenly poured out.

I remember chasing after his back for three years in high school.

I remember that in my first year of college, he got a girlfriend in another city.

After that, whenever I saw a back that resembled his on campus, my eyes would inexplicably turn red.

His back became a long-lasting aftereffect for me.

When we met again later, I finally mustered up the courage to walk toward him.

That day, I deliberately walked into the wrong private room.

Because in my heart, he was the right person.

I had secretly loved him for so many years, and I knew his preferences like the back of my hand.

I deliberately catered to him.

On the second blind date, an elder who worked in the same hospital and department as him kindly introduced someone to me.

He asked what kind of person I was looking for.

I tailored all the criteria to one person.

So the one who showed up that day had to be him—it could only be him.

I finally heard my own broken sobs.

"My 18th birthday wish was...

"To have Matthew notice me."

Later, Matthew did notice me.

But I was never in his eyes.

When I sobered up, my head throbbed.

There was still some hangover tea at home—something I usually prepared for Matthew.

On days when he wasn't on duty, he would have a few drinks with his friends.

His alcohol tolerance was average, and sometimes when he drank too much, his friends would call me to pick him up.

Every time I took him home and made hangover tea for him, he would watch me bustling about, always looking a little apologetic.

I should just quit drinking, he'd say. "I'm always troubling you."

"It doesn't matter," I'd reply. "I don't mind the trouble."

Back then, I really did think about making hangover tea for him for the rest of my life.

I got up and made a cup for myself.

There had been a message from Matthew on my phone.

Seeing his name had made my heart clench.

I was stunned for a long while before checking it.

It had been sent at 10:00 p.m.

"You can take back the breakup words anytime. I don't mind.

"If you still insist, I can be the one to tell both our parents."

He had wanted to take all the responsibility on himself.

Canceling the engagement was a big deal, with countless problems to follow—hotel bookings, honeymoon plans, wedding photos...

It wasn't just about losing the deposits—facing my parents would've been the real challenge.

I had made the decision, so there had been no reason for me to push him out to take the blame.

So I replied to him. "I'll tell them myself.

"I'll bear all the losses caused by our cancellation of the engagement."

After a while, he replied. "Callie, I don't care about these things. You don't need to do this."

He was always gentle.

When we first got together, I thought his gentleness was like waves lapping at my heart.

Later, when I was immersed in it, I realized that those waves hitting my heart were cold and hard.

While having breakfast, the last fragment of memory before I blacked out suddenly popped up.

Last night, my friend saw me dead drunk and crying my heart out.

So she took the initiative to get my phone, wanting to call Matthew.

In a daze, I pressed her phone tightly.

"Don't call him. We've broken up."

The news spread like wildfire.

I soon received a call from my best friend, Emily Gibson.

She asked right away, "Can you really bear to let him go?"

We'd been desk mates in high school.

Over all these years, my unspoken feelings, though I tried to hide them, were obvious to her—she saw it all.

On the day of our high school graduation, she took a photo of me.

She went out of her way to get Matthew in the background.

That was the first photo of the two of us together.

I made a peace sign in front of the camera, while he walked past behind me, leaving only a back view.

It was just a back view, yet I cherished it deeply.

Back then, Emily said, "This is the graduation gift from me."

Now, she sounded a little regretful, saying the wedding gift she'd put so much thought into preparing wouldn't get to be given.

I pestered her for a while to tell me what it was, but she wouldn't say.

But somehow, it didn't seem important anymore.

I told my parents about my decision in person.

My mom immediately jumped up from the couch.

"Don't you know a man like Matt is a once-in-a-lifetime find? Once he's back on the market, he'll be snatched up in no time!

"You're almost 30! What on earth are you thinking?"

My father, who had been silent beside us, stepped in just in time. He pushed my chattering mother back into the kitchen.

Amid the roar of the range hood, I faintly heard my father sigh.

He said, "Last time Callie brought home a box of nuts—Matthew bought them.

"They've been together for three years, and he still doesn't remember that Callie doesn't eat these nuts."

He sighed. "I say calling off the engagement is for the best..."

After getting through my parents, Matthew and I took care of the remaining matters.

I retreated back to a life of being alone.

Life had been peaceful, and my heart had felt more settled than ever before.

What was it like being with someone I'd secretly loved for years?

It had been like crossing a vast ocean in a small boat.

I had been consumed by fears of gain and loss, worrying every moment that he might leave.

I had clung to my little boat, terrified it might capsize at any second.

Now that the storm had finally overturned the boat, I had somehow found peace.

Matthew had occasionally appeared in the list of likes on my Instagram posts.

But we had never seen each other again.

We had each returned to our own paths.

I had thrown myself into work and lived my life earnestly.

The days flowed by like the tide.

Half a year passed in the blink of an eye, and I ran into Matthew on the road.

Mandy was clinging to his arm like a little bird, and he was walking down the street with her, smiling.

I wasn't too surprised.

There was still a place for each other in their hearts, so it was only natural for them to get back together.

Still, I couldn't help but feel a faint ache in my chest.

But I was still grateful—grateful that I let go in time.

In the three years he was with me, he never smiled so genuinely.

At least now, he was truly happy.

They didn't see me.

I averted my gaze and kept walking forward.

Those three years would fade away in his vast life, and I would gradually forget the length of his back.

Another month passed.

I went to the San Francisco court for a trial and ran into my college classmate, Joseph Lombonie.

He said to me, "Callie, long time no see."

What a coincidence—he was the opposing lawyer.

The trial was held in a tiny room.

The tables for the plaintiff and defendant were practically stuck together.

Joseph whispered to me, "At this distance, you could reach out and start a fight."

As it turned out, his words came true.

During the trial, the defendant lunged at the plaintiff, and a fight broke out.

In the chaos, the defendant almost hurt me.

Luckily, Joseph reacted quickly and pulled the defendant back.

After it was over, he and I, as lawyers for both sides, got a scolding from the judge.

He sighed, "If you sinned in your past life, you study law in this one."

I followed behind him and couldn't help laughing.

He stopped and turned around to look at me.

He said, "Callie, you won't cry when you see my back now, will you?"