After I Stopped Being a Simp

The morning light on October 1st was like gold leaf cut with scissors, streaming through the curtains' cracks and casting long, narrow streaks across the floor. The light spots drifted slowly with the morning sun, sweeping over the sofa's armrest and resting on my hand gripping the cell phone tightly. I sat on the sofa, my back straight as a rod, my fingertips nervously tracing the call button on the screen — this was the fifteenth call I'd made to Sophia Quinn today. The phone screen lit up, then faded, faded, then lit again; every time it went dark, it felt like a sharp knock against my already tight chest. Finally, after a long stretch of busy signal, Sophia's voice burst through the receiver, edged with clear impatience: "What's with the rush? Don't you ever get tired of bothering me?" My grip on the cell phone tightened suddenly, my knuckles going white as I tried to keep my voice controlled but strained: "Sophia Quinn, today is the day of our engagement." This is already the ninth time we've postponed our engagement. Are you coming or not? Just give me a straight answer. "Why are you yelling? Who said it was nine times? It's clearly eight!" Her tone was full of contempt, almost mocking, "Alex has a fever of 39 degrees and can't even get out of bed. Right now, he's way more important than your engagement gift. Can't you just be a little understanding and wait?" "Wait? I've been waiting for three years!" I couldn't help but raise my voice, the tightness in my chest nearly overwhelming me. "It's always him—Alex Lynn is always more important than me, more important than our promises, isn't he?" "Caleb Shaw, can you stop being so petty? Alex is my childhood friend—I've known him since we were kids. What's wrong with me taking care of him when he's sick?" Sophia Quinn's voice suddenly rose, edged with a touch of righteous anger. "Besides, Alex said it—you're just a simp who can't be shaken off. Now that I think about it, he really wasn't wrong." That sentence stabbed into my heart like an ice-cold dagger, and the relentless ache quickly spread through me. I froze for a few seconds, then suddenly let out a quiet, bitter laugh—full of self-mockery. Who says she's the only one allowed to stand up for her childhood friend? I've had enough of this endless compromise and being taken for granted. I took a deep breath, turned around, and called my mother. My voice was so calm even I was surprised. "Mom, please tell everyone the engagement gift is canceled today." There was a moment of silence on the other end before my mother asked anxiously, "What's wrong, son? What happened? Is Sophia causing trouble again?" "Hmm," I answered quietly, my tone flat, "Just say Sophia Quinn was in a car accident and is now paralyzed in the legs." I can't marry someone who's paralyzed, and the elders would understand that. "Good! Good! It's best to call off the engagement!" My mother's voice suddenly grew excited, relief clear in her tone. "I told you Sophia Quinn was unreliable—demanding an 880,000 bride price and refusing to marry if she got less. This isn't a marriage, it's selling a daughter!" "Tina's better—someone who knows your background, got along with you since childhood, has a good nature, and comes from an honest family." Mother grew more determined, saying, "I'll call Ms. Collins right now and tell her about your situation. Wait for my news!" "Thanks for doing this, Mom." I said softly. After hanging up, I opened the messaging app and typed a breakup text: "Sophia Quinn, let's break up. The engagement gift is cancelled. From now on, we're done with each other." I reviewed it carefully to make sure there were no extra words, then pressed send without hesitation and immediately blocked her number. Once it was done, I stood up and began packing my bags. My eyes swept across the desk, settling on a photo frame right in the center. It held a picture of Sophia and Alex Lynn — arms around each other, standing under the Ferris wheel at the amusement park, smiling with eyes curved in joy, looking like a couple in love. The engagement photo of Sophia and me, carefully placed in a frame by me, had been shoved by her into the deepest drawer of the desk, buried beneath a pile of old magazines. I bent down, opened the drawer, and took out the engagement photo. In the photo, I was grinning foolishly, while Sophia looked distant, her eyes somewhat vacant. I remembered the day Alex came to my house, saw the photo buried in the drawer, and deliberately patted my shoulder, saying in a condescending tone, "Caleb, put up the photos of me and Sophia so you can understand your place." Back then, I naively thought that if I just held on a little longer, Sophia would finally notice the good in me.