We shared the same window and the same bed.

 　　That day, I had dinner with a high school classmate I hadn't seen in a long time. We talked about relationships, and she said, "Why

　　is it always women who get hurt?" Sometimes I wonder too, when two people love each other, why is it often the woman who ends up heartbroken? My classmate is preparing for graduate school entrance exams. The world of intellectuals is always so "high and mighty." She studies for over 13 hours a day on her own. Seeing her like this, I can't help but admire her perseverance. She's never been in a relationship, never met the right person, and says she'll only love one person in her life. Then I look at myself, wounded and scarred by love.

　　My relationship with Zhang can be described as revolutionary love. From high school to university graduation, neither of us chose to pursue further studies at a higher institution. We tacitly entered the workforce together. Three years of long-distance relationship, and because of love, I chose to come back—to a place with poor prospects, where I had no connections or background and could only rely on myself. His family is well-off, and he doesn't have to worry about his future job. Even though it's tough, being together still makes me happy.

　　We were classmates in high school and shared a bed in university. Our feelings went from passionate to calm, from lovers to family. Only we know the pain of a long-distance relationship. We spent three years in a cycle of arguments and cold wars. I felt happiness was on its way, but a fight a few months ago seemed to end our relationship. We had just met each other's parents and were seeing each other quite frequently, supposedly to strengthen our bond, which seemed fine.

　　Entering the workforce for the first time, I was struggling, under immense pressure, and constantly working overtime made me very sensitive and irritable. I video-chatted, called, and texted him every day; he became my only confidant, pouring out all my troubles to him, ignoring his feelings. He said he was unhappy and would quit, finding another job. I realized my emotions were very bad, and that if things continued like this, there would be many more conflicts, so I quit my job; I didn't want to affect our relationship. Afterwards, I was desperate to find a job, under immense pressure, suffering from insomnia, panic, anxiety, and a lack of security, but I still acted normal. No one knew how much pressure I was under, how I couldn't sleep at night, how my neck ached so much that every position was uncomfortable. Until one day, something triggered an argument. He told me, "I don't like this. I don't want to be glued to my phone all day. I have my own things to do." I was very angry and heartbroken. I tried to control my emotions, but I couldn't, and we argued. I said some hurtful things, not what I meant. Since then, he hasn't spoken, nor has he mentioned breaking up. I wanted to wait until we both calmed down before talking, but he just wouldn't say anything. Is this a breakup? What's the reason? We've reached the point of discussing marriage, we're finally about to be happy, is it really going to end like this? I've always felt there's some misunderstanding between us, and I want us to sit down and talk calmly. After all, five years isn't easy, and arguments and cold wars are nothing compared to the suffering of a long-distance relationship. For those few days, I kept searching for an answer: Is it a breakup? Why? Now I don't want to ask anymore. Maybe we met too early, too young, with the preparation for marriage but not the thought of it. I'll leave everything to fate. I love him very much, even though he's made me cry, hate, and break down, I still hope he's doing well. If he gets tired of being away, he can come back. Even if we no longer love each other, we can still be friends.