Chapter 1

It was the fourth anniversary of our relationship. Heather Hilmann took her friend Liam Sherr and me went to have barbecue together.

The waiter recognized them and smiled, asking, "Still the usuals?"

Heather nodded.

It was a table by the window for two, and Liam sat on the inside.

The ribeye had slightly charred edges, and the dipping sauce had no onions.

She gave the first piece and the last piece to Liam.

I sat near the aisle, and there was not even a dipping‑sauce dish in front of me.

When they paid the bill, the waiter checked the membership records and reminded them with a smile, "Ms. Hilmann and Mr. Sherr, tonight was your 100th visit. You can take your customized grill pan home."

A line of words was engraved on the back of the grill pan: [Heather and Liam, Together Forever.]

The date was three years ago.

I then remembered that Heather had been at the hospital celebrating my birthday that day. It turned out that the two hours she had been away were not for a company meeting.

Liam touched the engraving and asked her with a smile, "After you and Ian Jeffrey get married, will we still have our monthly get‑together?"

Chapter 1

Heather Hilmann straightened Liam Sherr's scarf for him and then turned to look at me. "Of course. Ian Jeffrey is not unreasonable. Besides, I have known Liam for ten years. If Ian really minds, he should be adapting to us."

On the way back, I sat in the back seat.

Heather adjusted the passenger seat to her preferred position, but the GPS automatically announced, "Heading to Liam's house."

I looked at my reflection in the car window and felt exhausted, so I lowered my head and bought a one‑way ticket to London in seven days.

Their ten years would continue, but our four years had come to an end.

Liam's apartment complex did not allow visitor vehicles to park overnight.

Heather did not look at the registration form. She entered his building and apartment number with practiced ease.

"Heather, the light in my living room seems broken." Liam did not get out of the car. He only frowned as he held the grill pan. "The property management said they can only fix it tomorrow."

He looked up at Heather, his tone edged with annoyance. "I cannot fix it by myself."

Heather unbuckled her seatbelt at once. "I will go upstairs and take a look."

As her hand touched the car door, she finally saw me in the rearview mirror. "Wait here for me. I will take ten minutes at most."

The car heater was on full blast.

Before getting out, she tossed her scarf onto my lap. "Do not roll down the window. The cold wind gives you a headache."

She always did this. She remembered every one of my habits, yet she also forgot me in the car and turned to take care of another man.

Every time I thought she cared about me, Liam reminded me that these thoughtful gestures were not only for me.

Ten minutes passed, the lights upstairs stayed off, and Heather had not come downstairs.

As I looked down to check my London flight, the driver's side door opened.

She did not explain her delay. She simply shoved a hot soy latte into my hand. "I bought this downstairs. No sugar."

The straw was already in place, and the temperature was my favorite 60 percent hot.

I stared at the ticket page on my phone and did not reach for it. The soy latte hung suspended in mid‑air.

Heather waited a few seconds before turning to look at me. "What are you doing so engrossed?"

I snapped out of my thoughts, turned off the screen, and took the cup. "Nothing, just work emails."

Heather narrowed her eyes slightly, her gaze falling on my right hand gripping the phone. "Liar."

She spoke softly, yet it silenced the car at once.

Heather reached toward the back, her palm up. "Give me the phone."

She knew me best. My right hand would rub the edge of the phone when I was nervous.

I stayed still. She was about to lean over when the passenger door opened.

Liam got back in, his nose red from the cold. "Heather, the power went out at my place."

He then looked at me. "Ian, can I stay at your place for the night?"

Liam patted my shoulder. Whenever he wanted to stay at my place, he waited for my nod as though my agreement was guaranteed.

Before I could speak, Heather had already turned on the chair warmer for him. "It is only a room, no need to ask him."

I gripped the soy latte tightly, and the paper cup dented at once.

It turned out I was the outsider who had no right to make decisions in our own home.

She then looked at me. "Give Liam the guest room next to the master bedroom. He is a light sleeper, so do not use the hairdryer tonight."

"That room is out of the question."

When we moved into our marital home, Heather had changed the locks on the guest room herself. All of my father's belongings were inside.

She had given me the only key and said no one was allowed in.

Heather's expression darkened. Her tone turned indifferent.

Liam hesitated. "Forget it, I will go to a hotel. Ian does not like others touching Mr. Jeffrey's things. I understand that."

The more understanding he was, the more heartless I seemed.

Heather started the car with a cold expression. "Liam is not just anyone."

After a two‑second pause, she looked at me through the rearview mirror. "Ian, do not force me to argue with you on our anniversary."

Chapter 2

At 2 a.m., I was awakened by the sound of shattered glass.

When I rushed into the guest room, Liam stood in the middle of the floor, covered in broken shards. He held the mechanical pocket watch my father had given me.

The watch cover had fallen off, and the second hand was frozen in place.

"Ian, I am sorry." Liam’s face was pale as he reached out to grab me. "I only wanted to find a blanket. I never expected it to fall when the cabinet door opened."

I snatched the pocket watch from him.

Before my father passed away, he held onto it and waited for me all night. Because Heather had a sudden high fever, I did not see him for the last time. Since then, this pocket watch became something I never allowed anyone to touch.

"I told you not to come in here." As I finished speaking, I realized I was shaking violently.

Liam’s face turned even paler as his Adam’s apple bobbed. "I did not mean to."

"Get out."

"Ian..."

"I asked you to get out." I pointed toward the door, but Liam retreated and stepped on the broken glass with the soles of his feet. He fell to the ground in pain.

Heather rushed over at the sound.

The moment she saw the blood, her expression changed at once. She went past me and leaned over to help Liam up. "Where did you hurt yourself?"

Liam leaned on her arm as his face turned pale in pain, but he still gritted his teeth and answered, "It is my fault. It has nothing to do with Ian."

Heather lowered her head to check his feet, wearing a deep frown.

I cut my hand once when cutting vegetables, and she carried me to the hospital with the same grim expression.

I broke out in a cold sweat due to the pain. She coaxed me while wiping my tears. "Bear with it. No one will hurt you when I am around."

She used the same tone but was coaxing another man.

"Do not look at the wound. I will take you to the hospital."

When she passed by me, she finally saw the blood on my palm. The edge of the pocket watch had cut a wound.

Heather paused slightly. "The medical kit is on the bedside table. Take care of it first."

I looked at Liam in her arms. "My father’s pocket watch is broken. It cannot be repaired."

Heather’s arm stiffened as she held Liam.

Liam grunted in pain, and the hesitation in her eyes lasted only a moment. "It is only a watch. I will have someone find an identical one for you."

"It will not be the same."

"So what do you want?" Her voice turned cold. "Liam’s feet are still bleeding. Do you want me to put him down now and mourn a stupid watch together?"

‘A stupid watch?’ I thought as I lowered my head, and the blood dripped from my palm onto the stopped dial.

Liam leaned on her arm, suppressing the pain as he suggested, "Heather, stay with Ian. I will go to the hospital myself."

Heather hugged him and walked out. "Ian is not that fragile."

The door slammed shut heavily.

I stood amidst the broken glass on the floor and called the old watch repairer who had repaired the watch for my father.

The old man was silent for a long time after seeing the photo. "The spindle is broken, and the original parts have long been discontinued. It cannot be repaired. Mr. Jeffrey, my condolences."

I slowly squatted down and picked up the fragments into a box.

My phone lit up.

London School of Design had sent the final admission notice.

The cold light of the screen reflected the mess all over the floor.

This time, I did not hesitate as I tapped the confirm button.

Chapter 3

The next day, Heather sent someone to deliver an antique pocket watch. It was from the same brand and the same year, and the auction price was seven digits.

Her assistant placed the velvet box in front of me. "Ms. Hilmann canceled two meetings in the morning to find it. She also said Mr. Sherr is sorry and hopes you stop blaming him."

I did not open the box.

She never skimped on compensation, but she never faced why I was distressed.

In the afternoon, I rushed to the exhibition hall with the entries required by the college.

They would affect the final scholarship, and they were also the handover I needed to complete before I left.

As soon as the car left the city, Heather’s phone call came in. "Are you out?"

"Yes, I am submitting my artwork for review."

There was a two‑second silence on the other end of the phone.

"What time do you finish? I will come pick you up."

I held my phone and did not answer at once.

Last night, she left with Liam without hesitation, but today she remembered my review.

"4 p.m."

Heather’s tone softened. "Okay, do not wander off afterward. I ordered your favorite cake. Liam also wants to apologize to you in person."

Even knowing the pocket watch could not be fixed, she still tried to appease me.

Back then, I would relent if she apologized, but not anymore.

"I have a very important review session. We can talk afterward."

There was a two‑second silence on the other end of the phone. "What time do you finish? I will come pick you up."

That single sentence almost broke me. My long‑dormant heart gave in again.

I was about to speak when the car lurched violently, and a piercing crash sounded from behind.

The driver slammed on the brakes, and the glass case containing my artwork tumbled off its stand.

Ignoring the pain in my forehead, I pushed open the door and rushed to the trunk.

The main structure had broken into three pieces.

I froze and even forgot to breathe.

Two years and over 1,000 sketches were destroyed before my eyes.

The driver’s door of the white car behind me flung open.

Liam ran over, his face ghastly pale. "Ian, I am sorry. Heather said you would not see me, and I was afraid you really did not want to see me anymore, so I followed you in my car."

He reached out to stop me but froze in mid‑air. "My phone fell, so I bent down to pick it up and did not see you slow down..."

I shook him off and took out my phone to call the police.

Liam rushed to stop me. "Do not call the police. My driver’s license will be suspended."

Seeing I did not stop, he turned to grab the broken glass case. "I will make it up to you. I will take it to get repaired right now."

"Do not touch it."

It was too late. The sharp edge of the glass cut his wrist, and blood gushed out at once.

When Heather arrived, she first saw the blood on my forehead. She walked to me quickly and cupped my face in her hands. "Where did you get hit? Do you feel dizzy?"

I looked at her, and my nose stung.

Before I could answer, Liam called out from behind, "Heather..."

Heather turned around. When she saw his bleeding wrist, she took off her coat and pressed it against the wound. "Who told you to touch broken glass?"

"I wanted to fix Ian’s artwork." Liam’s face was pale, and he looked at me with panic. "It is all my fault, but I really did not mean to hit him."

The traffic police walked over and asked if I wanted to pursue the matter.

Heather pressed Liam’s wound and replied at once, "It is a simple rear‑end collision. We will settle it privately."

I looked up sharply. "I refuse."

"Liam is injured."

"My artwork is ruined."

"I will hire the best restorer."

"The review is in 40 minutes. No one can fix it."

Heather fell silent.

I picked up the broken artwork and hailed a taxi.

Even if the outcome was predetermined, I did not want to give up on the last attempt.

However, Heather reached out and grabbed the car door. "Even if you rush over, you will not be able to submit a piece of junk."

‘Junk. Why is everything I cherish desperately priced in her eyes?’ I wondered.

I stared at her. "None of your business."

Liam suddenly clutched his chest, bent over, and began to retch.

After hearing his symptoms over the phone, the doctor suspected a concussion from the impact and ordered immediate hospitalization.

Heather helped Liam into the car.

Before getting in, she glanced back at me. "You stay and help with the accident. Once Liam is alright, I will accompany you to explain to the school."

I stood amidst the shattered glass, still holding the broken artwork. "Heather, the school will not wait for me."

She looked at me for two seconds, her lips pressed tightly together. Liam groaned in pain inside the car, and she turned around and closed the door.

Forty minutes later, the school sent a notification: [Late submission of artwork; scholarship eligibility revoked.]

I stared at that single line for a long time. I thought I would break down, but I only stood there quietly.

My heart felt like it was being slowly crushed, the pain fading until only numbness remained.

Chapter 4

At 7 p.m., Heather brought Liam back to our marital home.

I had just placed the last piece of clothing into my suitcase when I heard her calling me from the living room. "Come out and sign the settlement agreement."

Besides the accident settlement agreement, an incident explanation sat on the coffee table. It stated that the driver had suddenly changed lanes because I urged him, causing the car behind him to be unable to dodge. If I signed it, Liam would not be held responsible, and even his driver’s license would not be suspended.

"He caused the accident by looking down to pick up his phone." I pushed the papers back.

"The surveillance footage and dashcam footage can prove it."

Liam’s eyes reddened at once. "Ian, I know it is my fault. But I am participating in a charity racing team selection next month. If I have a record for dangerous driving, I will never be able to race again."

He had loved racing since college. I paid for the registration fee and even bought him his first racing suit. When he won his first award, he hugged me and laughed all night, saying he would give me the trophy when he stood on the highest podium.

Now, he was trampling over my future to get his award.

Heather placed the pen beside me. "You missed your review. Pursuing the matter will not change anything. Sign it, and I will have someone build you a studio."

She did the same thing again. My personal effects, my hard work, my dreams. Everything had a price in her eyes. It was as if I should swallow my grievances and stay quiet if I was given enough.

"I will not sign it."

Heather stared at me for a few seconds before taking out her phone and making a call. "Suspend the lease renewal for Ian’s father’s old studio."

I looked up sharply.

The studio had been kept in the care of Hilmann Group after my father’s death. Inside were every one of the design sketches he had created during his lifetime. They were also the source of inspiration for my latest work.

"That is the place my dad left behind."

"So the decision is yours." Heather placed her phone on the table. "Ian, no one will touch the studio as long as you sign. Our wedding date will also remain."

Liam grabbed her arm at once. "Heather, do not pressure Ian."

He suddenly knelt in front of me, his fists clenched and his voice hoarse. "I ruined your artwork. I am willing to compensate. But that selection is my last chance. Ian, you have always been my biggest supporter. Help me one more time, okay?"

Ten years of friendship and four years of love.

One knelt and begged me, and the other sat and pressured me. Neither of them asked if what I lost was also my only chance.

Heather glanced at her watch. "I will give you only one minute."

My phone rang at that moment.

The old man guarding the studio sounded anxious. "Mr. Ian, people from Hilmann Group are here. They say they are clearing the place out tonight. Mr. Jeffrey left too many drawings, and they are moving them out. It is raining outside. What should I do?"

I grabbed the phone and rushed toward the door.

Heather raised her hand to stop me. She stood before me, her back still straight.

In the past, this figure had shielded me from countless storms. Now it had become a high wall that had driven me to a dead end.

"Sign it."

"You promised me you would protect that place."

"I promised Liam I would let him participate in the selection." Her expression stayed unwavering.

"Ian, do not make things difficult for me."

‘Do not make things difficult for her, so I can only be the one she gave up,’ I thought.

Thunder rumbled outside the window.

A video arrived quickly.

The studio door had been torn open. The drafts my father left behind were packed in nonwaterproof cardboard boxes, piled beside the truck in the rain. The top page was blown away by the wind, and the ink spread slowly due to the rain.

"Make them stop."

Heather pushed a pen toward me. "Sign it."

I stared at the irretrievable drafts on the screen, tears falling onto the paper. My hand holding the pen trembled violently.

In the video, another page of the drafts was swept away by the wind and rain.

I finally put pen to paper. Each stroke felt like tearing my own heart apart.

With the final stroke, Heather took the document and immediately ordered her staff to stop clearing the area.

"Would it not have been better if you had done this sooner?" She reached out to wipe my tears.

I turned my head away.

Liam stayed frozen, his voice strained. "Ian, I am sorry."

I took off my promise ring and placed it in her palm, my heart ashen. "No need to apologize. I will give you everything you want."

‘Including the woman I loved for four years and the home I once thought I had.’

Heather’s expression darkened. "Ian, what are you doing? Take it back."

I dragged the suitcase by the door.

She then noticed the suitcase, her brow furrowing deeply. "Why did you pack your things?"

"To check the drafts my father left behind."

"Are you not coming back tonight?"

I did not answer.

Heather assumed I was still throwing a tantrum and helped Liam up from the floor. "The studio is saved. Do not cause any more trouble."

She placed the ring in her pocket, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I will pick you up tomorrow morning."

I gripped the suitcase handle and gave her one last glance. "No need."

Heather frowned, but Liam cried out in pain behind me. She still turned and walked toward him.

Just like countless times before. Whenever he spoke, I was always left behind.

Before the door closed, I heard Heather say icily, "Suit yourself. Come back when you have calmed down."

I did not answer, nor did I turn back.

Twelve hours later, I boarded a flight to London.

This time, I would not be coming back.