He raised an eyebrow, showing disdain, "Why are you still here? Ready to watch a porno?"
I told myself not to cry, to stay strong.
But tears kept streaming down and my body was shaking.
I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth, "Why?"
I stubbornly wanted an answer.
What did our ten years mean?
"Why?" James walked up, easily kicked over the gardenia pots. "Stop with this fancy stuff. Pack it up before you leave."
Then he looked me in the eye and said slowly. "I'm tired of you. You annoy me. Satisfied?"
I yelled with all my strength, "Why didn't you say so earlier? Why stay with me for ten years if I repulse you?"
It's ten years, not ten days or ten months.
The best years of my life, from 23 to 33.
James got more impatient.
He sighed, "Because those old folks at home are too annoying, wouldn't let me go out and have fun."
"With you here, I had a shield."
"And most importantly, you're so gullible."
So, he was with me not just for our youthful bond.
And this wasn't the first time he cheated.
It felt like something started to stink.
"But now, you're a real pain," he glanced at the proposal setup, "Thinking I'd marry you just because I'm nice to you? So naive."