Old Lover

At the business dinner, Ken’s ex-girlfriend drank herself to the point of a stomach hemorrhage just to secure a contract. I could not bear to watch. But then I saw him grabbing her chin, his eyes filled with mockery and lingering resentment. “If Miss Nancy wants the contract so badly, why don’t you try begging me on your knees?” The newly minted billionaire of the city, known for his cold, detached elegance, had lost his composure in public for the first time. 1 An hour ago, Nancy had cornered me in the restroom. Arrogant and bold, she had said, “Do you believe your fiancé will leave with me tonight?” Of course, I did not believe her. Unlike the high-and-mighty Miss Nancy, who had once crushed Ken’s pride under her heel, I was his partner and lover. I was the one who had spent seven years building everything with him from nothing. Faced with her provocation, I paid it no mind. But the scene unfolding before me now made me hesitate. At the same time, the whispers of our old business partners echoed in my ears. “How many years has it been since Ken acted like this?” “Ever since Nancy married someone else seven years ago, Ken has been like a machine. Even when the company went public, he never showed any real emotion.” “Seven years ago, Ken begged her not to leave. Do you remember what she said? She said the game with poor people had to end.” “Now that Ken is worth billions, Nancy must be dying of regret.” My body grew numb as I listened. My eyes remained fixed on the two figures not far away. “Mr. Mercer, if I kneel, will you sign the contract?” Nancy relaxed her furrowed brows, forcing a bitter smile. Sweat clung to her beautiful face, dampening her hair, which stuck wetly to Ken’s long, elegant wrist. He was always a germaphobe, but he did not pull away. Dark, intense emotions swirled in his eyes. Ken said nothing. Nancy’s knees hit the ground without a second thought. She was wearing a short skirt, exposing her thighs as she knelt before him. Clutching the hem of her skirt, her tears spilled over, falling like broken pearls. She looked fragile and utterly pitiable. She grabbed the hem of Ken’s trousers, a stubborn smile on her lips. “Is this enough, Mr. Mercer? Or do you want me to bow my head to the floor?” Ken’s eyes flickered, his lips trembling slightly. I watched it all unfold. The whispers around me did not stop. “Who would have thought the proud Nancy would fall this low?” “He finally got his revenge, but Ken does not look happy at all.” “I thought he had forgotten her. Guess not.” “She is the only one who can make him act human.” She is the only one who can make him act human. What about when he was with me? He was always calm, rational, and decisive, never losing control. He was incredibly good to me. He handpicked the finest clothes, bags, and shoes for me. He was endlessly gentle. Every handhold, every kiss was with my consent. He said I deserved the perfect version of him, and he had never once raised his voice at me since we met. But now, his eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Nancy. The emotions in them were so complex, he probably did not even realize his gaze never left her. Seven years. Their seven-year separation was about to become our seven-year itch. 2 Ken let go of her chin. Nancy’s delicate frame swayed on the floor. As she bent forward, her forehead almost touching the ground, a faded, cheap necklace slipped from her collarbone. It was ordinary, visibly worthless. But the moment it fell, Ken froze. I recognized it. It was in Ken’s wallet. A water-stained, blurry photo of a girl wearing that exact necklace. When I had asked who she was, he said, “An enemy.” An enemy who kept him awake at night, whose memory pierced his heart. Now I saw. Not an enemy, but an old flame. 3 Nancy’s forehead never hit the ground. Irritated and restless, Ken stood up and walked over to me. He told my assistant, Marcus, “Give her the contract.” Marcus understood immediately and quickly handed the prepared contract to Nancy. Nancy took it, but there was no joy in her eyes, only bitterness. Her fragile state gave her a tragic, beautiful air. I pressed my lips together. When Ken turned to face me, he had regained his usual elegant, high-class composure. He wrapped his arm around my waist and addressed the room, “Please enjoy yourselves. Our wedding is tomorrow, and we have many preparations left. We will take our leave.” We walked toward the door, showered with congratulations. “Congratulations, Ms. Prescott and Mr. Mercer. Tomorrow is the big day.” “We will definitely be there to celebrate with you tomorrow.” But just as we reached the door, Nancy’s sharp voice cut through the congratulations. “Everyone, I apologize for any offenses in the past. Tonight, I will raise a glass to apologize. I hope you will look out for me in the future.” Before she could finish, someone interrupted, “A glass of water? You have some nerve!” “If you want to apologize, do it right.” “One glass, one contract. Let’s see how many you can handle.” The crowd cheered as someone poured glass after glass of hard liquor. Our backs were turned, but I could feel the intense gazes in the room. Some partners did it to please Ken and me, wanting to avenge us. Nancy’s gaze was burning with desperate emotion. I looked at Ken. This kind of cheap bullying was bad for our company’s image. But Ken just smiled gently at me and asked, “You barely ate tonight. Let’s go home and I will make your favorite chicken and mushroom porridge, okay?” He adjusted my coat. “It’s windy outside. Don’t catch a cold.” His expression was calm, but I felt his hand trembling slightly when it brushed against my neck. “Fine, I’ll drink!” Nancy’s resolute voice rang out. The sound of empty glasses hitting the table echoed one after another. Leaning against Ken’s shoulder, I felt his heart racing in panic. Finally, with a dull thud, Nancy collapsed. Ken could not pretend anymore. Without a second thought, he rushed to her side, draped his coat over her shoulders to cover her legs, and scooped her up. As he carried her past me, I saw the veins bulging on his pale, terrified face. He barked at Marcus, “To the hospital!” Marcus glanced at me in panic, hesitating. “Mr. Mercer, but Ms. Prescott…” “Go!” Ken did not even hear him. I let out a bitter laugh. I did not want to make things difficult for Marcus, so I gave him a reassuring nod. Only then did he follow. In Ken’s arms, Nancy’s pale face flushed. She weakly opened her eyes and shot me a triumphant smirk. She had said Ken would leave with her tonight. She won. No matter how dirty her methods, she won. The private room fell dead silent. Everyone looked at me with deep sympathy. Some even spoke up in frustration. “Ken is out of his mind!” “We went too far. We fell right into her trap.” “Charlie, don’t blame him. Ken is just too sentimental.” “I’ll call him right now and get him back here. He’s just not thinking straight.” I shook my head, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. A sob story only works on someone who still cares. In front of everyone, I slid the engagement ring off my ring finger and placed it quietly on the table. Gasps filled the room. Without waiting for their pleas, I turned and walked away. Nancy won. But I did not lose. Instead, Ken, I do not want you anymore. 4 I walked down the cold, windy street in my coat. The city lights blurred in my eyes. Passing an underpass, memories flooded back. Seven years ago, the night my stepbrother assaulted me, I fled my home. My mother refused to believe me. She told me to go back and apologize. She said, “When you live under someone else’s roof, you have to bow your head.” At that moment, I realized what it meant to be an unwanted burden. To make things easier for her, I left. I never went back. I cut off all contact. I worked by day and slept on the streets by night, barely surviving. I met Ken in an underpass. He was shirtless, clutching a perfectly pressed suit. I joked that it looked like a scholar’s robe from a tragedy. He self-deprecatingly replied that without this robe, he would never get a meeting with investors. I watched him for a few days. He was fascinating. He would spend his last penny on a coffee just to use the cafe’s Wi-Fi. Yet, he would dig through trash cans for half-eaten meals. He could talk passionately to wealthy investors in fancy restaurants, then wash dishes all night to pay his bills. I asked him, “Isn’t this exhausting? Why not get a normal job?” He replied, “I can’t wait. My little sister is in the hospital. If I don’t get a hundred and fifty thousand dollars within a year, she won’t survive the surgery.” Making that much money in a year was impossible with a normal job. But starting a business was incredibly hard. Looking into his gentle eyes, my heart warmed. I joined him. I rented a cheap, tiny apartment. I bought one portion of food to share. He handled the tech, while I began drinking with investors to secure funding. The cheap alcohol burned my throat and tore my stomach. I threw up constantly. Once, my stomach bled. To save money on medical bills, I endured the pain at home. He stopped working and cared for me until dawn. His eyes were full of worry as he cooked me chicken and mushroom porridge. As we looked at each other, his eyes reddened. He promised, “We will make it. Trust me.” I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Of course I trust you. I always have.” I do not remember who kissed whom first. But the bowl of porridge fell to the floor. It was our first time wasting food, and our first time completely opening our hearts to each other. He asked me what my dream was once we succeeded. I held him tight. “I want a home. A place of my own.” He squeezed my hand. “I will give you a home. Ours.” In the first year, I secured our first major investment. Ken paid for his sister’s surgery. In the third year, the company grew. He bought me a house and decorated it exactly how I wanted. In the sixth year, the company went public, and he proposed. Now, in the seventh year, I thought our home would finally be filled with warmth. Instead, when I opened the door, it was cold and dark.

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