Julian always said his love was eternal, a vow meant to last until death. So when another girl and I fell into the water, he chose to save her first. By the time they pulled me out, I was almost gone. Later, someone sent me flowers, and he completely lost it in front of me. What? Didn’t he say he didn’t love me anymore? Why is he now on his knees, tearing up, like his heart’s been ripped out? The moment I saw Julian, I couldn’t stop myself from following him. I just told myself: *Just one look, Chloe. See what his new girlfriend looks like.* “Julian, your new lady is stunning!” I followed the speaker’s gaze and spotted a girl among a crowd of men in tailored suits. Her long hair cascaded down her back, and her fair skin glowed. A form-fitting, dusty rose long dress highlighted her elegant, almost regal, demeanor. Julian offered a reserved smile, silently acknowledging her as his girlfriend. Memories surged through my mind like a restless tide, and in the next second, our eyes locked. The moment his gaze met mine, my heart clenched. Those eyes, once so tender they could drown me in their depths, were now distant, indifferent. Under the sunlight, Julian’s handsome face seemed to radiate a chill. He exchanged a few polite words with those around him, then started walking towards me. “What are you doing here?” Julian’s voice always had a deep, calm quality, but this time, his question carried an edge of impatience. Right. What was I even doing here? I just wanted a quick peek, then I was supposed to leave. I wanted to ask him why he’d found a new girlfriend the very next day after we broke up. Didn’t I deserve an explanation? But the words caught in my throat, my eyes burned with tears, and my voice felt like it was ripping apart. I didn’t know why. Just a week ago, we were madly in love, and now we were strangers. Seeing me like this, Julian, usually the most patient person, completely lost his composure. He turned his face away, frowning. “I hate it when women cry, and I can’t stand it when they cling. Go home. I don’t want my fiancée to see you.” I snapped my head up. The word “fiancée” hit me like a hammer, shattering my last line of defense. “You had a fiancée all along? What was I, then? Your mistress? Your dirty little secret?” Over his shoulder, I saw Julian’s fiancée walking toward us, the warm sunlight glinting off the ring on her ring finger. I looked down at Julian’s ring finger—sure enough, an identical ring. Before the tears could fall, I quickly turned away, trying my best to walk calmly and with dignity. I touched the ring on my left ring finger, the one Julian had given me almost a year ago. It was easy to put on, but impossible to take off, as if it had grown into my flesh. Removing it now would tear me apart. I walked, wiping away tears, and then threw that ring into the grass by the roadside. “He’s just a guy. I’ll find another one. It’s not like I can’t live without him,” I muttered to myself, trying to console my shattered heart, but the overwhelming tears wouldn’t stop. There was no bus stop near this club, and the wind on the road quickly dried my face. A car slowly pulled up beside me. It was Julian’s driver. “Miss Chloe, Mr. Julian asked me to pick you up and take you somewhere. He said he has the answers you’re looking for.” More like a final farewell than an answer.
“You shouldn’t have come looking for me today.” Julian’s voice was clean and low, yet it carried a chilling edge—the kind of coldness reserved for women he was done with. We sat across from each other, a table separating us. But it wasn’t just a table; it was a chasm of class. Julian came from a powerful, old-money family, deeply entrenched in politics and business. The only reason I, a grad student at a prestigious university, even knew a man from such an elite background was because I’d worked so hard to get where I was. I thought my excellent grades and looks made me special to him. After all, he’d been so good to me this past year. That ring was the best proof. But I’d overestimated myself. A man giving you a ring doesn’t mean anything. I looked at him with a hint of mockery. “Does your fiancée know you’ve been dating me all this time?” I pushed. “I’m really curious, Julian. When you bought me that ring and made all those promises, did you ever think about how you’d explain it away today?” My eyes were still red, and I tried to keep my voice steady. “May the deceitful choke on a thousand thorns!” If he’d had a fiancée all along, then this entire year—our dates, our hugs, our kisses, our passionate nights—they were all just a sordid affair? Julian’s gaze involuntarily darkened, and he simply mumbled, “I’m sorry.” “You suddenly disappeared because you were afraid I’d cling to you, right? You shouldn’t underestimate me, and you certainly shouldn’t overestimate yourself. I just needed a formal breakup. There’s no need to imagine me as some desperate woman clinging to you.” I fought hard to hold back the tears. If even one fell now, I’d truly be defeated. Just then, a little girl selling flowers came by with a basket full of roses. “Mister, buy a flower for your girlfriend! She looks like she’s about to cry.” Julian’s distant gaze flickered slightly, and he finally uttered, “She’s not my girlfriend.” The little flower girl shook her head, not believing him. Her voice was soft. “You’re lying! Last time you two were here, you bought a whole basket of flowers from me for this lady! You guys must have had a fight, right?” She continued, “My mom says lovers should learn to apologize.” Last summer, Julian had indeed bought a bouquet from that little girl and given it to me. At the time, it felt like nothing special, but today, it felt like a sharp blade piercing my heart. The flower girl left. Before Julian walked away, he took a call. His voice wasn’t too loud or too soft; I could hear it perfectly. His fiancée was playfully whining on the phone. “Julian, when you come home, remember to buy me flowers. You promised that no matter how much we fought, you’d always be the one to apologize and comfort me.” “Okay, I’ll apologize first and comfort you. Are tulips okay?” Julian’s tone was so gentle. Even during our sweetest moments, he had never spoken to me with such tenderness. I momentarily zoned out, then caught my reflection in the store’s decorative mirror behind him. My face was filled with pure envy. I looked just like a discarded doll, still longing to be picked up by its owner. I instantly pulled my gaze from his phone, trying to keep my face calm and my dignity intact. It wasn’t until he was gone that I realized my face was completely soaked with tears. Before Julian left, I, as if possessed, asked, “You don’t want me anymore, do you?” He was in a hurry to go buy flowers for his fiancée and simply dropped, “Yes, I don’t,” before walking away.
My story with Julian began last summer. Julian was three years older than me. My cat, Pumpkin, had snuck into his car. Julian was resting with his eyes closed inside. His features were exquisite, yet not effeminate. Every line of his eyes and brows exuded an air of good breeding and upbringing. When I found Pumpkin, she was comfortably curled up in his arms, acting like a shameless, flirty cat utterly charmed by a handsome face. We connected because of the cat and exchanged contact information. Every step of our beginning was initiated by him. That year, a typhoon hit, and the authorities warned citizens to stay indoors. Unfortunately, I got appendicitis and was in agonizing pain. Julian was at a conference in another city at the time. I don’t know how he managed to rush back. Dark clouds hung low over the city, and the rain poured relentlessly. Julian drove through flooded streets, his car splashing through one pool of water after another. At one point, his car skidded and crashed into a roadside barrier. When I woke up after surgery, Julian was asleep on the hospital bed next to mine, half his face buried in the pillow, the other half exposed. He slept soundly. He was tall, and only half of him fit on the bed. His white shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders, and his belt cinched his waist, making his legs look incredibly long. I was lost in admiration when he suddenly opened his eyes, propped himself up from the bed, and asked in a hoarse voice, “You’re awake.” “Thank you,” I said, blushing. I vaguely remembered calling him when the pain was unbearable last night. Afterward, to show my gratitude, I invited him to my apartment for dinner. My parents had rented this apartment for me after I got into grad school. Our family was comfortable, solidly middle-class, but we were still far behind the wealthy families in Silverwood City. Our relationship was always in an ambiguous stage; it never progressed further. So, I thought it was time for me to take the first step. One day, as we were walking home after buying groceries, a drunkard was banging on my door. I recognized him: Blake, a senior from my grad program who had been relentlessly pursuing me. I had a terrible impression of him, and I had no idea how he’d gotten my address. Blake glanced at me, then at Julian beside me, sizing him up from head to toe. He immediately sneered, “No wonder you rejected me. You found yourself a rich playboy. Women really are materialistic, aren’t they? How much did he pay you to sleep with him?” I was furious, but Julian remained calm. He comforted me, telling me to go inside and he’d handle things out here. I slipped into my apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar. I watched as the previously gentle and well-mannered Julian kicked Blake straight into the fire escape, followed by Blake’s screams. After that, Blake never called the police. Instead, the apartment building suddenly had more security guards, and the property manager called me several times to check in, saying someone had specifically requested it. Julian and I were comfortable together, but we never defined our relationship. Perhaps we both enjoyed the ambiguity, testing the waters, waiting for one of us to make the first move. One rainy evening, Julian came over for dinner as usual. I had a little red wine, and feeling playful, I played a violin piece. Then I intentionally hit a wrong note. I looked at him with a mischievous glint in my eyes. “What do I do? I messed up.” Julian sat on the couch, legs splayed, arms crossed. After a low chuckle, he stood up and pulled me into a hug. “It’s okay. I like you. I like you even when you mess up.” Our relationship finally clicked open because of a single wrong note on the violin. I officially became Julian’s girlfriend. From that day on, we finally acted like a normal couple, sharing hugs, kisses, and intimate moments deep into the night. …But the dream ended too quickly. Julian was going to marry someone else. Just as I was lost in thought, a car swerved and hit me. The driver was a girl. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Are you okay? You’re not going to die, are you? W-what am I going to do? I don’t want to go to jail! I’m getting married! My kids will have a criminal record… ” I felt like she was crying more than I was. “I’m not going to die. I think it’s just a broken bone,” I sighed inwardly. I was actually comforting *her*. The girl was still panicked. She made a quick call to someone she knew, her voice choked with tears. “Julian, I hit someone…” My heart sank. *No way. It can’t be that much of a coincidence.* I looked closely at the girl’s face, then at the engagement ring on her hand. It was the same girl I’d seen at the club.
Julian and his fiancée, Stella, ended up taking me to the hospital. Julian and I, by unspoken agreement, pretended not to know each other. At the hospital, Stella was incredibly concerned about me. From her demeanor and cheerful personality, it was clear she came from a privileged background, a truly sheltered princess. The car she drove was worth a fortune. She and Julian were clearly a perfect match, a union of two prominent families. “Turns out we go to the same university! That’s great! I’ll pick you up for classes while you’re recovering.” Stella’s voice was genuinely caring. A bitter feeling welled up inside me. If Julian’s fiancée had been some demanding, unreasonable woman, I could at least tell myself he deserved whatever bad karma he got for leaving me. But this girl was a sweet but naive beauty. *Any man would fall for her, wouldn’t they?* “No, it’s just a minor fracture. I can manage on my own.” Stella grabbed Julian’s arm and shook it gently, her voice intimately close. “Julian, please, you have to convince her! I feel so guilty, I won’t be able to sleep tonight!” Julian indulged her completely. “I know you feel guilty, but we have to respect… ” He paused imperceptibly, then continued, “Miss Chloe’s wishes.” I managed a bitter smile. “I have a boyfriend. He’ll take care of me. You don’t need to worry too much.” Stella’s guilt visibly eased. She leaned in, gossiping, “You’re so pretty, your boyfriend must be super handsome! Since we’ve met through this accident, let’s exchange SnapChat info! We can hang out sometime!” I turned my head to look at Julian. His lips slowly tightened, and his eyes held a coldness. I wanted to ask him if hearing about my boyfriend made him uncomfortable. *You have no right to question me now, Julian,* I thought. But that expression only lasted a few seconds. *Hmph, I was just imagining things. Why would he care about an ex when he has someone new?*
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