My ex-girlfriend is now married.

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

After graduating from university, my girlfriend and I broke up amicably. She stayed in Beijing, while I went to Yili, Xinjiang. From then on, we were worlds apart, and we lost touch. Eventually, we almost completely stopped contacting each other because I stayed in Xinjiang and rarely went back to my hometown for the Spring Festival, and we never saw each other again. In early 2015, she got married to a native Beijinger. Maybe people become more realistic as they grow up. As a migrant worker in Beijing, she also needed to find her own place and had to find a way to stay. Judging from the photos, I felt her husband wasn't good enough for her. Apart from being a bit tall, she had regular features, but in any small third- or fourth-tier city, no one would give such a man a second glance.
In the summer of 2015, I suddenly developed an eye disease. After failing to find treatment in Xinjiang, I decided to go to Beijing for treatment. She knew I was coming, but because she was busy with work, we didn't meet in person; she only helped me contact hospitals over the phone. After more than a month of treatment, I finally recovered and told her I was going back to Xinjiang. She asked me for my exact flight date. In the afternoon, she sent me her location, telling me to come to her house the next day. Although we were both in Beijing, we hadn't met in a while, so this was a farewell gift.
When I arrived, I learned her husband was away on a business trip. It had been years since I'd seen her; she looked more mature, now a wife, and her every move exuded domesticity. Soon, hot dishes were served, and we looked at each other, talking about the past few years since graduation. After a bottle of red wine, the air became more intimate. We got up to clear the dishes together, our hands touching again. We paused, and she said she wouldn't wash the dishes, explaining it was too hot and I should take a shower. I understood, and after a short shower, I came out to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, tying her hair back with her hand. I walked into the bedroom and, without hesitation, hugged her tightly. She responded passionately, and it felt like we were back in the old days. Their wedding photo hung above the bed. I felt her husband was staring at us in the picture, a feeling I'd never experienced before. I touched her; she was already soaking wet, incredibly hard. I thrust in fully, the awkwardness of childhood gone. We knew each other perfectly, our cooperation was perfect, the 69 was effortless, her mature skill fueled my more intense thrusts. It was the first time I'd ever seen a woman squirt. She trembled, urine gushing out in spurts, one after another… I was both surprised and delighted. We thrust for a long time, changing positions many times. She responded to my low moans with moans and groans, her voice growing louder and louder. After three or four times, she was completely released, her face flushed. Each time I was about to ejaculate, she would lift herself up to meet me, fully opening herself up, telling me to shoot inside. Each time, I thrust in fully, straight to her core. I could no longer contain myself; spurts flowed out with each spasm of her body. With my last bit of strength gone, we lay limp on the bed, then rolled over and embraced.
I stayed at her house for two nights and three days, barely getting out of bed except to eat. Eating, drinking, every single day was the same. She was as happy as a child, yet also had to act like a parent. She was a very clean girl, changing the sheets every day, and even complained that she was almost out of sheets to change because I'd soaked them all. I replied, "Isn't it all because of you?" Haha! When we were cleaning the room together before leaving, we found a very obvious water stain on the mattress, probably from several times she'd ejaculated. She was a little scared, worried about leaving a mark, and cleaned it for a long time.
She didn't come downstairs; it was a farewell like family, with tears in her eyes. My eyes also blurred, knowing that this farewell was the last time we'd see each other.
We met in Beijing, and never saw each other again.
In 2017, she suddenly contacted me, asking to borrow 30,000 yuan for a house purchase. I was busy renovating my house and buying a car, and could only scrape together 5,000 yuan, feeling very guilty. She returned it to me at the end of the year, but I didn't take it back. We lived too far apart geographically, both had our own families, and contact became even less frequent. Two years later, we both had children. The few times we contacted each other were simple holiday greetings and likes on social media, nothing more.
On New Year's Day 2021, I left a comment on WeChat Moments about having children, and then there was no further news. Shortly after the Spring Festival, she suddenly texted me, asking if I could come to Beijing to see her, as we hadn't seen each other in a long time. A few minutes later, she sent a lot more texts, saying she missed me, missed that summer afternoon in 2006, missed our over ten years of physical intimacy, missed our passionate encounter at her house in 2015, saying that 2015 was her first time, and she'd never had it again, begging me to go to Beijing to "send her to heaven"—those were her exact words. I was at home at the time, my phone kept ringing, and I nervously read and deleted the messages. She kept sending messages, and I kept deleting them, not daring to reply.
The next day, on my way back to the office, I replied to her text, asking what was wrong. She apologized. She had never been like this before; she was always very considerate, except for those mass-sent holiday texts. Then she said she had been a victim of domestic violence, her first time experiencing it, looking down at Beijing, feeling utterly alone and desperate, and suddenly thought of me.
As children, we always longed to grow up; now that we're grown up, we miss our youth. Now I'm over thirty, settled down in Xinjiang, and it's likely we'll never see each other again.

[The End]

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