I finally turned to look at him.
"My mother died that way. I told you," he said with certainty.
I fell silent, my mind exploding with a loud bang.
I instinctively wanted to explain something, but when I opened my mouth, no words came out.
He noticed.
It was as if he had found the answer, or perhaps he already knew.
His tone was eerily calm: "You're imitating her, but you're more ruthless than she was. She wanted to die; you just want to perform."
He sighed softly and walked toward the bed.
"Do what you want to do."
When he said this, his tone was as calm as if he were approving a vacation for a subordinate.
I stood frozen, even forgetting to breathe.
"Go outside," he said softly, as if delivering my sentence.
"Fulfill yourself."
"From today on, you don’t have to act anymore, and neither will I."
He looked at me, his eyes devoid of any lingering affection.
"Go outside; no one out there will coddle you, indulge you, or tolerate you.
You think you're suffering here, but in reality, I've made you too comfortable."
He turned away, and as his hand rested on the doorknob, he added:
"You'll come back to find me. Once you understand, no one will love you like I do."
Then he left.
The door slammed shut with a bang, and the entire world seemed to mute.
I stared at the ceiling, motionless.
All that remained in my ears was the sound of my heartbeat slowly amplifying.
It really was that easy…
The moment the villa door gently closed behind me, I realized I had truly left Cheng Jingyi.
I stood at the crossroads, my suitcase at my feet, my fingers cold and stiff, yet I dared not look back.
We had lived in this city for two years. I took care of his needs, attended social events, and played the obedient wife he desired. He provided me with a house, a car, and a card I could use whenever I wanted; all I had to do was "not let him worry."
I thought that was love.
But later, I came to understand that those seemingly considerate "concerns" were merely a facade for control. I had become his "creation." His plans, his tastes, his defined way of life. He never asked me what I liked; he only told me, "You should do it this way."
In the year after graduation, I had no money, no connections, a broken family, and felt unloved, sensitive, and insecure. At that time, I was like a piece of driftwood floating on water; as soon as someone reached out a hand to me, I would grasp it tightly. And Cheng Jingyi happened to be that hand.
He was tall and composed, wealthy and handsome, yet during my most desperate moments, he said to me, "Be with me; become a part of my life."
I didn’t hesitate at all.
Those eager to escape the mire do not refuse a strong hand reaching out to them. There were no better options available. Cheng Jingyi was the kind of man I had always longed for; his presence made me feel needed, cared for, and valued—something I had never experienced before.
I thought that by being chosen by him, it meant I was worthy of love. To be selected and favored was something I subconsciously yearned for but could never attain.
I was wrong.
Two years passed, and yet I felt increasingly suffocated.
"You shouldn't associate with those kinds of friends."
"This outfit is too revealing; don't wear it."
"Don't go out at night; it's not safe outside."
"I'm not trying to control you; I'm just worried about you."
Over time, I became accustomed to living within the confines of his expectations, refraining from arguing or resisting.
Until one day, I looked at myself in the mirror.
My eyes were hollow, my expression numb.
I had turned myself into a part of him, a compliant accessory.
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