I had a stomach ache and went to St. Thomas’ Hospital alone for an IV drip. While I was there, I caught my boyfriend, Alexander, tending to his first love, Isabella. He was feeding her the chicken soup I had made myself, spooning it into her mouth one bite at a time. In that moment, I recalled a conversation he’d had with his friend James. “Alexander, what do you like about Scarlett?” “She’s easy to coax and deceive.” In the hospital ward, Alexander lowered his eyes, blew gently on the spoon, and handed it over. “Have another bite,” he said. Isabella’s pale face flushed slightly as she obediently opened her mouth. I stood at the door, watching this scene unfold, my heart aching as if it were being pierced by a knife. Just last night, Alexander had suddenly expressed a craving for chicken soup. I woke up early this morning, went to Borough Market, then spent hours simmering the soup on the stove. At noon, I proudly carried the thermos to his office in the City of London. To my shock, I was merely playing the role of someone else’s caregiver. “Your girlfriend is quite the homemaker,” Isabella remarked, a hint of mockery in her voice as she smirked. “Yeah. What would you like to eat tomorrow?” Alexander replied, his expression as indifferent as ever. He set down the bowl and casually pulled out a tissue to wipe the corner of Isabella’s mouth. “Eat you,” Isabella teased. “Stop joking,” Alexander said with a nonchalant tone. His indifference only made Isabella laugh harder. My throat tightened, and I found it hard to breathe. The haze in front of my eyes thickened. When my vision finally cleared, I realized I was making eye contact with them. A flash of surprise crossed Alexander’s face, followed by a frown. “So you’re Scarlett? You’re quite pretty, and your cooking skills are impressive too,” Isabella said, her innocent smile belied by her scrutinizing gaze. She wore a rose gold necklace that was both beautiful and painfully striking to me. Suddenly, I felt a rush of blood to my head, and my stomach began to ache again. I forced myself to respond, “I don’t deserve the compliment. I’m just young.” Isabella’s smile faltered. Alexander’s frown deepened as he noticed the white tape on my right hand, hesitating for a moment. “Do you need me to take you back?” he asked. It was already quite late. The fact that he asked meant he didn’t genuinely want to. I forced a smile. “Yes.” Alexander paused, glancing at Isabella, who was clinging to his sleeve, then back at me. But he didn’t move. My heart grew even heavier. I shook my head and turned to leave. He didn’t follow. In a daze, I recalled the harassing phone call I received a few days ago. “Alexander’s girlfriend? You? He loved me so deeply back then. No one can replace me. Just wait and see!” The caller didn’t give me a chance to respond before hanging up, leaving me feeling taunted. Lost in thought, I received a multimedia message. It was a selfie. She was strikingly beautiful—bold and flamboyant. I was baffled. What was wrong with this person? At that moment, Alexander was beside me. I showed him my phone. “She’s Isabella, your first love, right?” Alexander quickly glanced at the image, nodded, and deleted the message. “Scarlett, she’s mentally unstable due to some trauma. Just ignore her,” he said. I wasn’t angry; I just thought it was childish and ridiculous. I pressed on, “Did she contact you?” He didn’t deny it, simply replying coldly, “Annoying.” At that moment, I realized the childish and ridiculous one was me. And I was the one being annoyed. Suddenly, all the details I had previously overlooked came flooding back like a tidal wave. Alexander had been working late frequently, sometimes not coming home at all. He would go out to the balcony to take calls, lowering his voice, and the conversations would stretch on for a long time. I had found a receipt for an expensive ladies’ necklace in his suit pocket, which he claimed was for a client. … And I had never suspected a thing. When we first got together, I had accidentally overheard a conversation between him and James. “What do you like about Scarlett?” “As long as I can coax and deceive her.” Later, Alexander casually dismissed it as a joke. He navigated this relationship with such ease, controlling me perfectly with just a few words. In reality, the signs had always been there. I had just been too naive and self-righteous to see them. After three years of dating, I, like a small stove providing warmth in the snow, couldn’t compete with the moonlight that enhanced his life. 2 The first time I met Alexander was quite remarkable. After graduating from university, I had a big argument with my family over work and decided to move out to rent a cheap old house. It was late after my farewell dinner. When I returned, I found a drunk man sprawled in the hallway of the London residence. He had thin lips, a high nose, and slightly flushed cheeks. His long eyelashes cast shadows across his face. He looked quiet and haggard, evoking a sense of sympathy. I carefully patted him on the shoulder. He opened his eyes, and the bright lights of the hallway reflected in his dark gaze like a full moon. “Sorry to scare you,” he said, his hoarse voice somehow more charming in the stillness of the night. He stood up, irritably tugging at his tie, then turned to open the door. I instinctively said, “It’s okay. You should drink less in the future; it’s not good for your health.” The sound of the key turning in the lock paused. He turned back, squinting at me, his expression inscrutable. After a moment of silence, he replied, “Yeah.” “Um, well… I’m Scarlett, and I live opposite you.” “Alexander.” The sound insulation in the hallway was poor, and I could hear every time Alexander opened or closed his door. Gradually, I figured out his routine. He usually left at seven in the morning, and his return time was unpredictable, often late at night. But no matter when he came home, I always prepared a cup of honey water and waited for him. “Why are you waiting for me?” he asked one day. That time, Alexander didn’t take the cup. He stood in front of me, looking down from above. My cheeks flushed, and my breathing became unsteady. “Because I like you.” “Why?” “…I don’t know.” Alexander tilted his head, and his deep black eyes sparkled slightly. His voice was hesitant. “I didn’t drink tonight. Go back to your room. Don’t stay up late.” At first, I didn’t understand if this was a rejection or an acceptance. I looked up and asked quietly, “What about you?” Alexander raised an eyebrow, looked at me meaningfully, and flashed a mischievous smile. “Of course, I’ll go back to my own room.” I suddenly woke up and stammered in my explanation, “No! I meant you… you’re staying up late as well…” “I’ll make an effort to come back earlier in the days to come.” His tone was nonchalant, yet it still managed to stir ripples within my heart. Not long after that, Alexander moved away. He gave me the address of his new place – Alexander’s Flat in London, along with a spare key. Whenever I had no painting orders, I would head over to his place to tidy up the house, do the laundry, and cook for him. Charlotte got wind of it and was exasperated. “I’ve never seen anyone like you, so eager to be a free maid! What on earth do you like about Alexander? Is it because he’s good – looking?” I’d never contemplated this question before. I simply felt that every single moment I spent with Alexander was filled with joy. His responses to my messages evolved from “Yeah” to “Okay”, and the way he addressed me shifted from “You” to “Scarlett”. When he returned from a business trip, he’d bring me little presents. On weekends when he wasn’t occupied, he’d take me out for a meal. And from time to time, he’d remind me to take my stomach medicine… Whenever I thought about how Alexander was gradually changing for me, my heart would brim with happiness, making me believe that all the efforts were worthwhile. Finally, on Valentine’s Day, Alexander came to me carrying a bouquet of roses. The moonlight shone into his eyes, making it difficult to decipher his original emotions. “Scarlett, be my girlfriend.” “Okay.” Later, I discovered that on that very day, Isabella had announced her engagement in a high – profile manner. She’s Alexander’s first love, and they used to have a great relationship. But later, Alexander’s father’s company nearly went bankrupt, and Isabella also proposed to break up, seamlessly getting together with a rich second – generation heir. Then, when Alexander was at his lowest ebb, he met me. He once said that I was his winter stove, warm and cozy. But a woman’s intuition is a strange thing. I couldn’t help but wonder if Alexander’s acceptance of me had something to do with Isabella. Once this thought emerged, it grew stronger and stronger, refusing to go away… I plucked up the courage and asked casually, looking him in the eye. I looked up, choosing my words carefully before asking, “Why did you suddenly accept me?” His eyes were dark and inscrutable. “Because I like you.” “The past is in the past. Scarlett, you are my present and my future.” I engraved these words deep in my mind. 3 As soon as I entered the house, my phone rang. “Did you get home?” “Yeah.” “Why didn’t you tell me your stomach hurt?” “Would you have cared if I had?” There was a momentary silence on the other end of the phone. I could hear Alexander’s deep and slightly ragged breathing. “Scarlett, Isabella slit her wrists and attempted suicide. Fortunately, she was found in time. Although she’s out of danger, she’s still very weak.” So what? Just because I’m stronger than her, should I be her maid and give up my boyfriend? However, there was an even more crucial question. “Who found her in time?” Alexander was silent for a moment, then he gave an answer that didn’t really address the issue: “Her parents passed away and she was cheated on. Her mental state has become abnormal. After all, we’ve known each other for so many years. I just can’t help but worry about her.” My heart suddenly lurched, and my nose stung. Sure enough, only those who cry get the comfort. “Alexander, your girlfriend went home alone in the middle of the night. Aren’t you worried about her?” “Are you worried about her or still in love with her?” There was silence on the other end. I tried my best to steady my emotions, but my voice still quivered slightly. “I’m not the clingy type. If you—” “Wait for me to come home.” Alexander interrupted me and hung up the phone straight away. It would take him about half an hour to drive back. I curled up on the couch in the dark, with no lights on. All I could hear in the darkness was the ticking of the clock hands. Half an hour… One hour… Two hours passed… Before I knew it, I sat there until dawn. Alexander returned at six in the morning. “Why are you up so early?” He looked tired. He casually tossed his coat aside, leaned back on the couch, closed his eyes to rest, with no intention of explaining at all. Suddenly, Alexander opened his eyes and looked at me with a hint of surprise. “You didn’t sleep all night, did you?” I remained silent.
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