Married for six years. It was a union between our families, but also a love story that began in childhood. Watching him now, holding a girl who looked somewhat like me, but was so much younger, so much more innocent. Tears streamed down my face. Childhood sweethearts, it seems, aren’t always meant to last a lifetime. The divorce papers were the last gift I left for him. Outside the car window, rain lashed against the body of the car. Through the glass, I watched the two of them by the dorm entrance. Julian, in a black trench coat, held a young, beautiful girl in his arms, who was playfully snuggling into him. He raised his hand and gently stroked her head, a gesture full of comfort. The streetlights beside the dorm cast their glow into the rain, making the scene look like something out of a romantic drama. Seeing this, I had no desire to wait for their lingering goodbyes. I spun the steering wheel and drove straight off. On the way back, a drop of rain landed on my arm. I blinked, realizing it was a tear. I wiped my face haphazardly, feeling utterly numb. Back in college, when we were dating, Julian often walked me to my dorm like this. Once, during a heavy rain, I casually mentioned I craved those street noodles near the campus gate. Half an hour later, Julian appeared downstairs from my dorm. His coat was a little damp, but those noodles were still piping hot. My tears fell uncontrollably onto my hands, burning just like those noodles did back then.
As soon as I got home, I quickly got ready for bed and burrowed under the covers. Julian tiptoed into the room, a bouquet of flowers in his arms, which he gently placed on the table. He walked to the bedside, resting an arm on my shoulder, his voice full of apology, tinged with a hint of playful cajolery. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I had some business to discuss today and couldn’t make it for dinner with you.” I looked at him, saying nothing. His routine was exactly the same as before, only then it was for work engagements; now, it was for his young girlfriend. He then opened a gift box, revealing a necklace from a brand I often wore. It was indeed a style I liked. “Honey, do you like it? Let me put it on for you.” I stared into his eyes. “No need. I really like the one you gave me before. I’m not that greedy.” Julian paused, then grinned. “Honey, that’s not greedy at all! The old one’s beautiful, but with a new one, it’s nice to switch them up. My wife is so gorgeous, everything looks good on you.” As he spoke, he reached out, cupped the back of my head, and leaned in to kiss me. I fought down the surge of nausea and turned my head, avoiding his lips. I managed to compose myself, unwilling to waste another word on him. “Just wash up and go to bed. I’m a bit tired from today. I want to sleep.” Julian, just like always, affectionately stroked my head. “Alright, honey. Get your rest. Beautiful people need their beauty sleep, you know.”
When I woke up the next day, it was almost noon. I barely slept last night, only drifting off in the dead of night. I opened SnapChat, found Madison’s chat, and scrolled, stopping at our conversation from two days ago. “Girl, is this Julian? My brother’s doing his grad studies at this university, and I dropped him off today. Thought I’d check out some hot guys, and guess what? I saw your husband!” “Why is your husband downstairs from the girls’ dorm? Does he have a sister studying here?” Ten minutes later. “Did I see that right? Your husband is hugging that girl? Is that a sister? That’s clearly a *girlfriend*!” I tapped on the first picture. It was identical to what I saw yesterday: the two of them, flirting outside the dorm, just like a newly infatuated couple. “I think I stumbled upon a huge secret.” Below the photo was a video. In the video, Julian opened the car door for the girl, shielded her head, then got into the car himself, and sped away. My thoughts drifted, back to the past. A girl’s playful voice echoed. “Julian! Is that you? Where’s Mr. Lim?” Julian rested one hand on the sports car window, slowly turning his head, his tone lazy. “Our houses are close. You can just ride with me, it’s on the way. No need to trouble Mr. Lim.” He walked up to me, took my small backpack, opened the passenger door, and made a “please” gesture. “Get in, my princess?” I gave a small huff, as if granting a favor, and stepped into the car in my cute leather shoes. “You don’t have to flatter me like this. Don’t worry, I’ll still give you the courtesy of riding with you.” Julian fastened my seatbelt, then grinned, his eyes blinking at me. “So, does this mean we’re good? You’re so generous; don’t be mad at me anymore.” Mad? Why was I mad? I couldn’t remember. We were about the same age; little squabbles were common, but from childhood on, Julian always made it up to me. I didn’t understand why Julian would fall for someone else. I reached for something, wanting to tidy up, but I didn’t know what to organize. It felt like there was nothing I absolutely had to take with me. I just felt like a jumbled program, emotions running wild. I needed to grip something, anything, to keep myself from unraveling. Then, a photo album appeared in my hands. Inside were photos of Julian and me. I flipped through them, page by page, each picture seemingly telling me that Julian loved me. Tucked deepest inside was a high school yearbook photo of us. I was in my school uniform, white shirt, blue blazer skirt, hair in a high ponytail, leaning my head against the person beside me, smiling and giving a peace sign to the camera. Beside me was Julian, his hair closely cropped, holding two bunny ears above my head, his smile exceptionally bright. I looked into the eyes of my 18-year-old self in the photo, tears blurring the image. I couldn’t control my tears, and I couldn’t control the 28-year-old Julian falling in love with someone else. I took a deep breath, deciding to go find him. Julian, the 18-year-old you, please save me one more time.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “296694”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic
Leave a Reply