It was Aaron's first time introducing me to his circle after years of excuses for not taking me out to meet his friends.

I put the glass down on the table, smiling politely, "Sorry, guys, I'm allergic too."

Aaron's face fell immediately.

"Jane, you pleaded to be here, and now you pull this?"

"If you won't drink, you can just get outta here."

I heard it before, and it echoed a night six years back when I found him drunk, heartbroken over a past love.

I'd grabbed his drink, unwilling to watch him spiral.

His drunken gaze fixed on me:

"Drink this, and I'll go with you. If you won't drink, you can just get outta here."

Without hesitating, I drank it, and darkness followed.

I awoke in a hospital.

I confessed, and he accepted.

A year later, we were married.

I thought it was the culmination of four years of unspoken love.

Now, I realized I might have just been a familiar face from his past.

My voice empty, I told him, "Have fun tonight."

Lily hugged Aaron, challenging me with her eyes,

"You really should adjust that attitude, Jane. Aaron apologized, why the fuss? No wonder people don't respect you. Always jealous, that's not what Aaron wants."

I looked away, indifferent,

"If that's the case, we should just get a divorce."

As I turned to leave, Aaron's voice thundered behind me,

"Jane, if you walk out, don't bother coming back."

That sentence felt like a release.

I had always feared solitude.

But during our six years together, that fear was overshadowed by the dread of losing him.

I had thought I couldn't handle the weight of those words, yet, hearing them now, I felt liberated.

I no longer needed to cling to a man who didn't love me.

I no longer feared the loss of something I never really had.

...

I remained silent.

Cautiously not to disturb anyone inside.

I gently opened the door, then quietly closed it.

The room buzzed with noise.

"Go after her, Aaron!"

"We may not like her much, but you're still married."

"She's too petty. You need someone classy like Lily."

"Forget her, let's just drink!"

...

On my way home, Lily texted me a picture of them all having a blast.

[Better off without you.]

[Jane, Aaron has always loved me. You were always the odd one out.]

[Take the hint already.]

Her message dripped with scorn and triumph.

I texted back: [No need for advice, trash belongs in the trash.]

Then I blocked her.

This marriage was a mistake from the get-go.

Five years of trying too hard to please.