I Saw My Boyfriend Kissing My Subordinate at a Concert

My fiancé Jareth kissed my subordinate Lily at a concert in front of thousands of people.

It wasn't a polite brush of lips, but a deep kiss with teeth marks, almost as if he were trying to devour her. Lily stood on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around his neck, and her hand even slipped into the inner pocket of his suit — the very pocket where I'd tucked his stomach medicine just last week.

Unaware audience members applauded their "affection," while my colleagues around me cast probing and sympathetic glances at me, his legitimate fiancée.

"Fuck!" Clara suddenly stood up, the chair legs screeching against the floor. "That bastard!"

A commotion surged around us like a tide.

"Isn't that Jareth? He said his mom was in the hospital!"

"Who's that woman? I thought he was getting engaged to the CFO?"

"I saw him with this blonde buying Cartier last week..."

My phone vibrated in my pocket. The name "Jareth" flashing on the screen was like a poisoned needle. I stared at the big screen, at the moment he pulled away from Lily, watching the smirk he tried to suppress as he lowered his head to answer the call. Suddenly, I hit accept.

"Baby, where are you?" His voice was sweet enough to drip honey, even feigning exhaustion. "Just finished up at the hospital. Mom's asleep. I wanted to hear your voice."

On the screen, Lily winked directly at the camera — at me — twirling his tie between her fingers.

"Watching a concert," I heard myself say, my voice as calm as reciting a quarterly report.

"Oh? Which singer?" He chuckled. "Is it good?"

"Pretty good." His voice sounded unusually calm, but the panic in his eyes was clearly visible. I recalled the message I had received three hours earlier.

— "Mom had a sudden angina attack, just rushed to ER" — recalling last week when his mother had held my hand and said, "We're just waiting for you two to get married" — recalling when he bought that limited-edition pen and said, "I'll use this to sign our vow of commitment when I propose."Now, thinking back to those words, I feel a little amused, but my heart is throbbing with pain, and my hand holding the phone is trembling slightly.

Clara pinched me hard beside me, fire practically shooting from her eyes. She waved the ticket stubs — front-row VIP seats, which her cousin had begged his boss to get. Now they felt like a cruel joke.

"Is... you mom okay?" I heard myself ask. I don't know what I'm trying to confirm, or perhaps I just still don't want to believe the fact that I've been betrayed.

"Much better. The doctor said it's nothing serious." He paused, his voice softening further. "Once this is over, let's go to the Maldives. Just us. Okay?"

"Jareth." I spoke, my fingertips digging into my palm. When the taste of blood spread, I suddenly remembered how harsh the lights at the ticket checkpoint had been. Just earlier, Clara had dragged me inside, grumbling: "Five years. How many times has he stood you up? Last month on your birthday, he said he was in a board meeting, but I saw him groping a client's waist in a bar!"

I'd defended him then: "It was a work."（But now, when I think of my own excuses back then, I find them particularly laughable. The force with which my fingertips dig into my palm grows stronger, and the pain has made me somewhat numb.

Now I stared at the lipstick stain on his suit — not my usual color，but a brighter red, like the shade Lily wore today.

He hesitated on the other end. "What's wrong, baby?"

The camera on the big screen hadn't panned away. I could see his slightly furrowed brows, watch Lily lean in to whisper something in his ear, notice the cold glint of his watch as his Adam's apple bobbed.

It was the anniversary gift I'd given him last year.

So his "emergency" was an urgent need to watch a concert with someone new.

So his mother's angina was his license to flirt with others.

My five years are nothing more than a wedding dress that can be replaced at will.

I held the phone, and suddenly laughed.