Chapter 3

First thing in the morning, she ordered me a Starbucks delivery. When it arrived at my desk, there was a smiley face drawn on the cup with a marker, along with the words, [for my love].

I had front desk send it back and said, “It was delivered to the wrong person.”

As usual, she posted pictures on Instagram every day, still of her own homemade breakfast, plated beautifully, with the caption: [I’ll make you breakfast every day from now on.]

And again, there was a string of people teasing her in the comments.

I still didn’t reply.

Later, she directly blocked me at the elevator entrance in the underground parking garage.

She leaned against the wall beside the elevator, holding a small bouquet of baby’s breath.

“Jason, why are you ignoring me?”

I replied, “I’m not ignoring you. I’m at work.”

She said, “Then why aren’t you replying to my messages?”

I said, “Because I’m at work.”

She frowned and took a step closer to me.

I could smell the strong, cheap perfume on her.

Her voice lowered, and it actually sounded threatening.

“Do you know the whole company is watching us? Ignoring me like this makes me lose face.”

I almost laughed out loud.

“Wendy, let me say this one last time. That night I sorted your files because it was just something I happened to do. If anyone else had still been working at nine o’clock and hadn’t finished, I would’ve helped a little too. It had nothing to do with you personally.”

Her face changed.

“Jason, do you know how many guys like you I’ve seen? You say no with your mouth, but in your heart you’re dying for me to keep chasing you. Do you think it’s fun to keep me hanging like this?”

I gave a cold laugh. “I’m not keeping you hanging—”

She waved a hand and cut me off, her face once again wearing that smile that said she thought she understood everything.

“Okay, okay, I get it. You think girls should be reserved. It’s fine. With you, I don’t need to be reserved.”

She turned and walked away, casually tossing the baby’s breath into the trash can beside her.

I looked at the baby’s breath lying in the trash can and suddenly understood.

If I didn’t accept her, then I was ungrateful.

If I fought back, then I was being dramatic, fake, and playing hard to get.

Wendy kept posting these vague Instagram updates.

When I got so fed up with everyone teasing me that I could barely stand it, I tried posting in the group chat: [Wendy and I are not in a relationship. Please stop posting and discussing false information about me.]

Wendy replied instantly: [Got it, good point! I’ll shut up!]

Then someone immediately replied underneath: [Hahahahahahahahahaha][Wendy’s got her leash on tight][So this is what public flirting looks like?]

I also tried sitting down with Wendy privately and speaking very seriously:

“Wendy, I have no romantic interest in you. Your behavior has already caused problems for my work and my life. If you keep doing this, I’ll file a complaint with HR.”

Wendy sat in her chair, twirling a pen, and after listening, she tilted her head to look at me. There was something in her expression that made me very uncomfortable.

As she left, she looked at me and said, “You’re just saying the opposite of what you mean.”

I was so angry I stood there for a long time before I calmed down.

That day I worked until eight, and when I was packing up to leave, I found my car key missing.

I searched every drawer and my bag, but it was nowhere.

Just as I was about to go home to get my spare key, I saw my car downstairs by the company entrance.

The door was unlocked, and on the passenger seat was a note.

[Your car was filthy, so I took it to get washed. No need to thank me. That’s what a girlfriend should do.]

I stood by the car, shaking with rage.

She had taken my car key, driven my car, and entered my private space without permission.

That was crossing the line.

I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, took pictures of the note and the car door, then called a rideshare driver to take the car back home.

The next day, I got the building management to pull the CCTV from the underground garage.

The footage clearly showed Wendy using a key to unlock my car at 6:00 p.m. and driving it away.

Two hours later, she drove it back, locked it, and left.

I copied the footage and then went to the auto shop next to the company.

I asked the mechanic to check whether there was a tracker or any other device installed in the car.

He checked it over and shook his head, saying there wasn’t.

When I was done, I sat in the car, completely exhausted.

I knew I couldn’t sit here and wait anymore.