Chapter 1

On our fourth anniversary as a couple, my boyfriend, Xavier Hillard, takes me and my best friend, Jessica Nielsen, to a barbecue restaurant.

The waiter recognizes them and asks with a smile, "Still the usual for you two?"

Xavier nods. We're led to a two-seater by the window, and Jessica takes the inner seat.

Xavier gives the first piece of meat—a crispy piece of pork belly with no extra condiments—to Jessica. The last piece of meat goes to her too.

Meanwhile, I'm placed in an extra seat by the aisle. There isn't even a condiment tray in front of me.

When paying the bill, the waiter flips through the membership records, smiles, and says, "Mr. Hillard, Ms. Nielsen, this is your 100th visit tonight. Here's a commemorative grill pan exclusive for you."

Engraved on the back of the grill pan is a line of text—"Xavier and Jessica, May We Never Part".

I then think back to this date, three years ago. I recall that day. Xavier had been at the hospital keeping me company for my birthday.

It turns out that when he disappeared for two hours in the middle of the celebration, it wasn't to go to a company meeting.

Jessica traces the engraving with her fingers and smiles, asking, "After you and Wen get married, will our monthly get-togethers continue?"

Xavier fastens her scarf for her, then turns to look at me. "Of course it will. Wendy isn't that unreasonable.

"Besides, we've known each other for ten years. Even if she has an issue with it, she should be the one to adapt to us."

On the way back, I get into the back seat of the car.

As Jessica is adjusting the passenger seat to the angle she's used to, the car's GPS suddenly announces, "Now navigating to Jessica's home."

I look at my own reflection in the car window, feeling suddenly drained.

So, I lower my head and buy a one-way ticket to Londwick that's set to depart in a week.

Their ten-year friendship will still stretch on, but my four-year relationship ends here.

Chapter 1

The residential complex where my best friend, Jessica Nielsen, lived didn't allow visitor vehicles to stay overnight.

Without even glancing at the registration form, Xavier Hillard wrote down her building and unit number from memory.

Jessica didn't get out of the car. Instead, she clutched the grill pan and complained softly, "Xavier, the light in my living room seems to be broken.

"The property management said they can't come fix it until tomorrow. I'm a little scared to be alone."

Xavier unbuckled his seatbelt. "I'll go up and take a look."

It was only when he put his hand on the door handle that he finally looked at me through the rearview mirror.

"Wait here for me. Ten minutes at most," he said.

The heater in the car was turned up high, yet before Xavier got out, he still tossed his scarf onto my lap.

"Don't open the window. You get a headache whenever the cold wind blows on you."

Xavier was always like this. He remembered every one of my habits, yet he could still leave me behind in the car and walk away to care for another woman.

Every time I thought he cared about me, Jessica would remind me otherwise that his thoughtfulness wasn't reserved only for me.

Ten minutes passed, and the light upstairs still hadn't come on. Xavier hadn't come back down either.

Just as I lowered my head to continue checking the flight details to Londwick, the door on the driver's side opened.

Xavier did not explain his delay. He simply pressed a cup of hot chocolate into my hands. "I bought it downstairs. There's no sugar in it."

The lid had already been opened for me, and the drink was warmed to just the way I liked it.

I stared at the ticket booking page on my phone but didn't reach for it. I also made no move to take the cup from Xavier, leaving him hanging.

Xavier waited a few seconds, then turned his head to look at me, asking, "What are you doing that's got you so engrossed?"

Only then did I snap back to my senses, hurriedly locked my phone, and took the cup. "It's nothing. Just a work email."

Xavier narrowed his eyes slightly as his gaze landed on my right hand clenched around my phone.

"Liar."

He had said the word softly, but it immediately weighed heavily on the silence inside the car.

Xavier stretched his hand back, his palm facing up. "Give me your phone."

He knew me best. When I was nervous, my right hand would unconsciously rub the edge of my phone.

Seeing that I didn't move, he was about to lean over when the front passenger door was suddenly opened.

Jessica got back in the car again, her nose flushed red from the cold. "Xavier, the power went out at my place, and the medicine in the fridge needs to stay refrigerated."

Only after saying that did she turn to look at me.

"Wen, can I stay at your place for the night?" she asked, reaching out and hooking her pinky around mine.

Back in college, whenever Jessica wanted to sleep over at my place, she would do the same thing. She would link our pinkies and sway our hands gently while waiting for me to agree.

But this time, before I could even say anything, Xavier had already turned on the seat warmer for her and said, "It's just a room. There's no need to ask her."

My grip tightened around the hot chocolate, crushing the sides of the cup inward.

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

Finally, Xavier turned to look at me. "Let Jessica have the guest room next to the master bedroom. She's a light sleeper, so don't use the hairdryer tonight."

"She can't use that room," I responded.

When we moved into our current house, Xavier had personally replaced the lock on that guest room door. That was because that room contained all the belongings my father had left behind.

At the time, Xavier had placed the only key in my hand and said that no one was allowed to enter.

But in this moment, his expression turned cold, and his brows drew together in displeasure.

Seeing this, Jessica hung her head, her eyes teary as she said softly, "Forget it. I'll stay at a hotel. Wen doesn't like anyone touching the belongings of the late Mr. Jones. I understand."

The more considerate she appeared, the more unreasonable I seemed.

And so, Xavier started the car, his expression cold, and said, "Jessica isn't just anyone."

After a brief pause, he looked at me through the rearview mirror. "Wendy Jones, don't make me argue with you on our anniversary."

Chapter 2

At 2:00 am, I was jolted awake by the sound of shattering glass. When I rushed into the guest room, I saw Jessica standing barefoot amid shards scattered all over the floor.

In her hands was the mechanical pocket watch my father had left me. The watch lid had already popped open, and the second hand remained completely still.

"Wen, I'm sorry!" Jessica's face was deathly pale as she reached out to grab me. "I was just trying to find a blanket. I didn't expect the watch to fall out the moment I opened the cabinet door."

I snatched the pocket watch from her.

Before Dad passed away, he had clutched it in his hand and waited for me for an entire night. Because Xavier had suddenly developed a high fever, I had missed the chance to see him one last time.

From then on, this pocket watch became something I would never allow anyone to touch.

"I told you not to come in here!" I roared. It was only after I spoke that I realized just how badly I was shaking.

Jessica's tears fell instantly. "I didn't do it on purpose—"

"Get out."

"Wen…"

"I said get out!"

I raised my hand and pointed toward the door, but Jessica suddenly took a step back. Her foot landed on a shard of broken glass, and she cried out in pain before falling to the floor.

Xavier came rushing over at the sound. The moment he saw the blood, his expression changed drastically.

He walked straight past me and scooped Jessica into his arms. "Where are you hurt?"

Jessica wrapped her arms around his neck and shook her head, sobbing. "It's my fault. It has nothing to do with Wen."

Xavier lowered his head to check her foot, his brows furrowing deeply.

Once, after I had cut my finger while chopping vegetables, he had carried me to the hospital with the same grim expression.

I was crying from the pain, so he wiped away my tears and soothed me, "There's a good girl. I'm here. No one can hurt you."

Now, he had the same tone of voice, but he was comforting another woman instead.

"Don't look at the wound. I'll take you to the hospital."

Only when Xavier walked past me did he finally notice the blood on my palm, sliced open by the edge of the pocket watch. His footsteps faltered briefly.

"The first-aid kit is in the nightstand. Take care of it yourself for now," he said casually.

I looked at Jessica in his arms, then retorted, "My father's pocket watch is broken. It can't be fixed."

Xavier's grip around Jessica suddenly tightened. But when she whimpered in pain, the hesitation in his eyes disappeared in an instant.

"It's just a watch. I'll have someone find you an identical one."

"There's no such identical watch in this world," I uttered.

"Then what do you want?" His voice suddenly turned cold. "Jessica's foot is still bleeding. Do you really expect me to put her down right now and stay here with you while you cry over a broken watch?"

A broken watch…

I lowered my head, watching as blood ran down my palm and dripped onto the motionless watch face.

Jessica curled up in his arms and softly urged, "Xavier, stay here with Wen. I'll go to the hospital by myself."

Xavier held her closer and walked out. "She's not that fragile."

The front door slammed shut after that.

Standing amid the shattered glass on the floor, I called Elliot Goodwin, the old craftsman who had once repaired my father's watch.

After looking at the photo I sent over, Mr. Goodwin fell silent for a long time before saying, "The main shaft is broken, and the original parts were discontinued long ago. It can't be repaired.

"Please accept my apologies, Ms. Jones."

I slowly crouched down and picked up the fragments one by one, placing them into a box.

At that moment, my phone screen lit up. The Londwick Academy of Design had sent the final admission offer.

The cold glow from the phone screen reflected off the wreckage all around.

This time, I didn't hesitate and tapped the "Accept" button.

Chapter 3

The next day, Xavier had his assistant deliver an antique pocket watch. It was the same brand, from the same year of production, and had sold for seven figures at an auction.

The assistant, David Porter, placed the velvet box in front of me.

"Mr. Hillard canceled two meetings this morning just to find it. He also said Ms. Nielsen already knows she made a mistake. He hopes you'll stop holding it against her."

I didn't open the box.

Xavier was always generous when it came to making amends, yet he always refused to truly understand why I had felt hurt.

That afternoon, I rushed to the exhibition hall with the collection required by the academy for my admission. This collection was tied to my final scholarship evaluation, and it was also the last handover I had to complete before leaving.

The car had just left home when Xavier's call came through.

"You went out?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm delivering my work for the evaluation."

The line went quiet for a moment.

"What time will you be finished? I'll come pick you up," Xavier offered.

I held my phone in my hand, not answering right away.

Last night, when he carried Jessica out, he never once looked back. Yet that day, he still remembered I had an evaluation.

"Four in the afternoon," I replied.

"Alright." Xavier's voice softened a little. "Don't wander off after you're done. I ordered the cake you like, and Jessica wants to apologize to you in person too."

He knew that the watch couldn't be repaired, yet he was still trying to coax me into feeling better.

In the past, as long as he was willing to lower his head, I would cave in immediately. But this time, I wouldn't.

"It's an important evaluation. We'll talk after it's over," I said.

He paused briefly before asking again, "What time does it end? I'll come pick you up."

That sentence nearly broke down all my defenses. My heart, which had been numb for so long, softened again despite itself.

But just as I was about to speak, the car suddenly jolted violently, and a sharp crash came from behind. The driver slammed on the brakes, causing the glass case holding my collection to topple from its mounting rack.

Ignoring the pain from where I had bumped my forehead, I pushed open the door and rushed to the trunk.

The main structure had already snapped into three sections.

I stood frozen in place, even forgetting to breathe. Two years of work and more than a thousand sketches—everything had been destroyed right before my eyes.

The driver's door of the white car behind me was pushed open.

Jessica ran over, her face ashen. "Wen, I'm sorry! Xavier said you wouldn't see me. I was terrified you were really abandoning me, so I followed your car."

She grabbed my hand, trembling all over as tears streamed down her face. "I dropped my phone just now, so I bent down to pick it up. I didn't notice you slowing down…"

I shook her off and pulled out my phone to call the police.

Jessica scrambled to stop me. "You can't call the police! My driver's license will get revoked!"

Seeing that I wasn't stopping, she turned around and grabbed the broken glass case.

"I'll compensate you for it. I'll take it to be repaired right now!"

"Don't touch it!" I yelled.

But it was already too late. The sharp broken edge sliced her wrist open, and blood gushed out in an instant.

When Xavier arrived, the first thing he saw was the blood at my temple. He hurried over, cupped my face in his hands, and asked, "Where did you get hurt? Are you feeling dizzy?"

I looked at him, my nose suddenly stinging.

But before I could answer, Jessica called out from behind, "Xavier…"

Xavier turned to look behind me. Upon noticing that her wrist was drenched in blood, he immediately tore off his jacket and pressed it against the wound.

"Why did you touch broken glass?" he chided.

"I wanted to help fix Wen's piece." Jessica looked at me through her tears. "It's all my fault. But I really didn't hit her on purpose."

The traffic police happened to walk over just then and asked whether we wanted to press charges for the accident.

Xavier kept his hand pressed over Jessica's wound and replied without a shred of hesitation, "It was just a regular rear-end collision. We'll settle it privately."

I jerked my head up. "I disagree."

"Jessica is injured," Xavier argued.

"My work has been destroyed."

"I'll find the best restoration expert."

I scoffed. "The evaluation is in 40 minutes. No one can fix it in time."

Xavier fell silent at that.

I picked up the broken pieces, then hailed a taxi. Even if the outcome was already decided, I didn't want to give up without making one last attempt.

Just as I was about to get in the taxi, Xavier reached out and grabbed the car door. "Even if you rush over there now, you can't submit scraps."

Scraps… Why was it that everything I cherished could be so easily reduced to a price in his eyes?

I glared intently at him. "That's my business."

Suddenly, Jessica clutched her chest and bent over, retching.

After hearing about her symptoms over the phone, the doctor suspected that she had suffered a concussion from the impact and instructed Xavier to take her to the hospital immediately.

Xavier lifted her into the car. Before getting in, he looked back at me and said, "Stay back and handle the aftermath. Once Jessica is alright, I'll go with you to explain things to the academy."

I stood there among the broken glass on the ground, holding my broken work. "Xavier, the academy won't wait for me."

He glanced back at me for a fleeting moment, his lips pressed into a tight line.

But then Jessica's pained groan came from inside the car. In the end, he still chose to turn away and close the door.

40 minutes later, I received a notification from the academy.

"Failure to submit the work on time. Scholarship candidacy revoked."

I stared at the one line of text for a long time. I thought I would cry, but all I did was just stand there quietly.

It felt as though something was slowly crushing my heart. The pain eventually became so overwhelming that the only thing left behind was numbness.

Chapter 4

At seven in the evening, Xavier brought Jessica back to our home.

I had just placed the last piece of clothing into my suitcase when I heard him calling me from the living room.

"Come out and sign the settlement agreement."

On the coffee table lay the accident settlement agreement and a police report. It claimed that the driver had suddenly changed lanes because he was following my instructions, which caused the car behind to crash into us when it couldn't react in time.

As long as I signed it, Jessica would bear no responsibility, and even the revocation of her driver's license could be avoided.

"The accident happened because she bent down to pick up her phone." I pushed the papers back. "The surveillance footage and the dashcam can both prove it."

Jessica's eyes instantly welled with tears. "Wen, I know it was my fault, but I'm trying out for the charity racing team next month. If I get a reckless-driving record, I'll never be able to race again for the rest of my life."

Jessica had loved racing since college. I was the one who paid for her registration fees, and even her first racing suit was a gift from me.

The first time she won a prize, she had clung to me and cried all night. She said that one day, when she stood on the highest podium, she would definitely give me the trophy.

But now, she wanted to trample on my future in exchange for stepping onto her own podium.

Xavier set down a pen beside my hand. "You've already missed the evaluation, and pressing charges won't change anything.

"Sign it, and I'll have someone build you a studio."

It was always like this.

Dad's keepsakes, everything I had poured my heart into, and my dreams—all of them had a price in Xavier's eyes. He made it seem like, as long as he gave me enough, I was supposed to swallow my pain and keep my mouth shut.

"I won't sign," I said firmly.

Xavier stared at me for a few seconds, then took out his phone and called someone. "Suspend the lease renewal for Timothy Jones' old studio."

I looked up sharply.

After Dad passed away, that studio had been kept under Hillard Group's care. It held all of his design manus from his lifetime, and it was also the source of inspiration for my piece this time.

"That's the place my dad left behind!" I shouted.

"So the decision is in your hands." Xavier placed his phone down on the table. "Wen, as long as you sign the papers, no one will touch the studio. Our wedding date will remain unchanged too."

Jessica hastily grabbed him. "Xavier, don't force Wen to do it."

She then turned around and knelt before me, crying as she held my hand. "I'm the one who destroyed your work, and I'm willing to pay for it.

"But this tryout is my last chance. Wen, you've always been my biggest supporter. Please help me one more time, okay?"

Between these two people, I had shared ten years of friendship with one and four years of love with another. One was kneeling before me and begging, while the other sat there, forcing my hand.

And yet neither of them asked whether what I lost was also the only chance I would ever have in this lifetime.

Xavier glanced at his wristwatch and said, "I'm giving you one minute."

Just then, my phone rang. When I answered the call, the anxious voice of the studio's caretaker came through.

"Ms. Jones, the people from Hillard Group are here, and they say they're clearing the place out tonight.

"Mr. Jones left behind many drawings. They're moving them out right now. It's also raining outside… What do we do?"

Clutching the phone, I rushed toward the door, but Xavier raised a hand to stop me. He stood in front of me, his shoulders still squared and his back straightened.

In the past, this figure had shielded me from countless storms. Now, he had become the wall that trapped me with no way out.

"Sign it," Xavier insisted.

"You clearly promised me you would protect that place!"

"I also promised Jessica she could participate in the tryout."

His expression didn't waver in the slightest as he added, "Wendy, don't make things difficult for me."

I repeated that last sentence in my head. So, I was the one who had to be sacrificed.

A low rumble of thunder rolled outside the window, and moments later, a video arrived.

The studio door had already been pried open, with Dad's manus packed into flimsy cardboard boxes and stacked beside a truck in the rain. The pages on top were scattered by the wind, their ink slowly bleeding from the downpour.

"Make them stop," I choked out.

Xavier held the fountain pen in front of me. "Sign it."

As I stared at the screen—at the manus that could never be restored—my tears fell onto the papers one drop at a time.

My hand shook violently as I held the pen. I kept trying to bring it down to the paper, but I couldn't.

Then, in the video, another page was blown into the curtain of rain.

In the end, I signed the papers. Every stroke of the pen felt as though I were carving open my own heart.

The moment I finished signing, Xavier took the document from me and immediately instructed his men to stop clearing out the studio.

"See? This would have been so much easier if you'd just agreed from the start."

He reached out to wipe away my tears, but I turned my head the other way and avoided him.

Jessica was still kneeling on the ground, sobbing softly. "Wen, I'm sorry."

I took off my engagement ring and placed it in her palm, feeling utterly hollow inside. "Don't apologize anymore. I'll give you everything you want."

That included our friendship, the man I loved for four years, and the home I once thought I'd have.

Xavier's expression darkened when he saw what I did. "Wendy, what are you doing? Take it back."

It was only when I pulled the suitcase from beside the door that he finally noticed it.

His brows furrowed tightly as he asked, "What did you pack for?"

"To go see the manus my father left behind."

"You're not coming home tonight?"

I didn't answer him.

Xavier, assuming I was still throwing a tantrum, helped Jessica up from the floor and said, "The studio is safe now. Don't keep making a scene."

He put the ring into his pocket, then said in a tone that left no room for refusal, "I'll come pick you up tomorrow morning."

I gripped the handle of my suitcase and looked at him one last time. "There's no need."

Xavier frowned, but when Jessica cried out in pain behind him, he turned and walked toward her.

Just like all those times before—as long as she called for him, I would always be the one abandoned.

Before the door closed, I heard him say coldly, "Suit yourself. Come back on your own when you've calmed down."

I didn't reply, nor did I turn back.

12 hours later, I boarded the flight to Londwick.

This time, I wouldn't be coming back.