The day Vivienne returned to the country, I created a deduction system for Holden Prescott in my phone’s notes app. Every time he ignored me, every time he hurt me, I deducted ten points. When all 100 points were gone, I would leave him for good. On my birthday, he claimed he had to work late, but instead had sex with Vivienne in his studio. I stood outside the door, listening to the intimate moans and gasps inside, and calmly deducted the final ten points. Zero points. I turned and walked away without looking back. Not until he finally realized what he’d lost did he kneel outside my office building, crying and begging me to get back together. And there I stood, arm in arm with my new lover, saying coolly, “Holden Prescott, your love means nothing.” Lucia’s POV In the fourth year of our marriage, I created a deduction system. In my phone’s notes app, I recorded every instance of Holden Prescott’s neglect and every wound he inflicted. Each injury cost him 10 points. When all one hundred points were gone, I would leave him completely. The first time, he called out Vivienne’s name in his sleep. Deducted 10 points. The second time, he asked me to grow my hair long because Vivienne liked long hair. Deducted 10 points. The third time, on my birthday, he gave me the leftover mango cake Vivienne had been eating, forgetting I was allergic to mango. Deducted 10 points. The fourth time, he refused to design clothes for me, saying Vivienne was his only muse. Deducted 10 points. When I returned from my business trip to Milan, I took a cab home from the airport, dragging my suitcase behind me. The moment I walked through the door, I saw Vivienne sitting on Holden’s lap. She was wearing a semi-transparent sample garment. Under the lights, her sexy lingerie was clearly visible underneath. When he saw me, Holden froze for a moment, but there was no joy in his eyes. He frowned and offered an explanation. “Lucia, don’t misunderstand. We’re working.” When I didn’t react, he added, “Vivienne is trying on the new design. You know, only she can properly showcase the advantages of my designs.” I nodded in agreement, then asked in confusion, “So trying on clothes requires sitting on your lap?” His displeasure was immediate. His face darkened as he accused me, “Why is your mind so dirty? We’re measuring dimensions up close. My clothes only work when they’re custom-tailored. They’re not like those ordinary things you buy at the mall.” Vivienne also chimed in carefully with an apology. “That’s right, Lucia. Please don’t misunderstand. I’ll leave right now if it bothers you. Just please don’t fight with Holden.” Holden. How intimate that nickname sounded. I smiled faintly. “I guess I did misunderstand. After all, you fashion people are in your own world. As an outsider, I really don’t understand art.” “I was being vulgar, assuming people in your circle just mess around with each other. I didn’t realize you were so pure. My apologies.” They caught my sarcasm, but since I’d apologized, Holden had nothing to say. But he wasn’t planning to let me off that easily. His gaze fell on my suitcase, and he sneered. “You say you’re not upset? Then why are you dragging your suitcase around?” “Running away from home again? Lucia, that trick only works once. Are you addicted to running away?” Vivienne cooed as she tried to mediate between us, saying understanding things. “Lucia, please don’t run away. Holden and I really were just taking measurements. Don’t leave. I should be the one to go…” Vivienne made to leave, but Holden instinctively tightened his arm around her slender waist, his face dark as he turned to me. “Lucia, have you made enough of a scene? Your work is work, but mine isn’t?” “I used to tolerate your tantrums, but I’ve explained everything. What answer are you looking for? Hm?” In the past when we fought, I did like to drag my suitcase around by the door, waiting for him to ask me to stay. But this time. I looked at him, my tone flat. “Holden, I just got back from a business trip. I’ve been away from home for half a month.” “You never even noticed I wasn’t here?” As soon as the words left my mouth, the expression on Holden’s face froze. I hadn’t been home, and he’d never even realized. Probably because for the past two weeks, he’d been busy designing clothes with Vivienne at home. I ignored his shock and dragged my suitcase further inside. Passing by the master bedroom, the door was half open. The bed was piled with lace lingerie and stockings. Those were Vivienne’s things. I didn’t stop walking and turned toward the guest room instead. “It’s inconvenient for Miss Vivienne to commute back and forth. She can stay for the next few days. I’ll give you two the master bedroom so you can focus on your creative work.” I pushed open the guest room door without looking back. “I still have to go back to the office tonight to work overtime, so I won’t be coming home. Make yourselves comfortable.” As I was closing the door, Holden rushed over and grabbed me. He looked at me with a hint of panic. “Lucia, you’ve always wanted me to design an outfit for you, right? When this fashion show is over, I’ll design one for you.” “Your birthday is next week anyway. I’ll give it to you as a birthday present.” He was certain I would be happy. After all, to get him to design something for me, I had once humbled myself to the dust. I gently pried his fingers off. “Sounds good.” I said, “Go back now. Vivienne is still waiting.” His gaze lingered on my face for a moment, confirming I wasn’t angry. He let out a breath of relief and left. After the door closed, I took off my clothes and showered. Coming out of the bathroom, I took out my phone and began recording carefully. “Eighth time: He was busy designing clothes for Vivienne and didn’t notice I’d gone on a business trip. Deducted 10 points.” I stared at the mere 20 points remaining in my notes. When these were gone, I could leave him.
Lucia’s POV To meet my project deadline, I stayed at the office. During that time, Holden didn’t call once. Probably because Vivienne had moved into the master bedroom, and he was busy finding creative inspiration from his muse. He simply couldn’t remember he had a wife. Not until Friday night, my birthday, did Holden send me a text. “Lucia, Vivienne’s sample garment still needs adjustments. I can’t spend your birthday with you tonight.” “I’ll make up your birthday present later.” I wasn’t at all surprised he was missing my birthday. My only surprise was that he actually remembered today was my birthday. In the past, I’d start hinting a month before my birthday, begging him to spend it with me. But what was the result? The first year, Vivienne was in a bad mood, so he left me sitting alone in the restaurant we’d booked and flew to Paris overnight to be with her. He disappeared for an entire week without a single word of explanation. The second year, he took Vivienne to London Fashion Week while I waited at home in front of cold dishes, from dawn until dark. Back then, I called him frantically, demanding to know, “Holden, who’s more important, me or Vivienne?” How did he respond? He said, “Can you stop being so childish? We’re doing this for work. The adult world isn’t just about romance.” Back then, I would cry and make scenes. I’d grab scissors and charge into his study threatening to cut up those clothes. But now, I felt nothing inside. My finger tapped the screen as I replied with one word: “Okay.” Putting down my phone, I went to the convenience store and bought a small mousse cake. Sitting by the window of the convenience store, I stuck a candle in it. The cheap candle’s flame flickered weakly, ready to go out at any moment. I didn’t make a wish. I just blew it out. Taking the first bite, I remembered that painful experience. It was also my birthday. Holden had come home late for once, bringing back half a cake. He said, “Sorry I’m late. I brought this for you.” I was thrilled beyond measure. Even though it was leftovers, I cherished it like treasure and ate it. But after just one bite, I tasted mango. I’m severely allergic to mango. He knew that. I forced down the swelling pain in my throat and asked him, “Why is it mango flavored? Don’t you know I’m allergic to mango?” He froze for a moment, his eyes evasive. “Oh, I forgot. Vivienne likes mango. I bought it out of habit.” That night, an ambulance took me away. My whole body broke out in hives, and I couldn’t breathe. And there at my bedside, all he said was, “Next time remember to remind me you’re allergic to mango.” The mousse cake in my mouth was sickeningly sweet. I swallowed it down and forced myself to finish before taking out my phone. Opening my notes, below the remaining 20 points, I typed another line. “Ninth time: He missed my birthday again to alter clothes for Vivienne. Deducted 10 points.” Looking at the lonely number on the screen. 10 points left. Just one more time. I closed my phone, stood up, and went back to the office.
Lucia’s POV Around midnight, Grayson called to tell me Holden had gotten into a fight at the hospital and his hand was injured. Grayson was Holden’s close friend. I frowned and asked him what exactly happened. He hemmed and hawed on the phone. “Vivienne was being harassed by some creeps at a bar, and Holden was trying to help her… Don’t read too much into it. Holden was just helping Vivienne. The situation is urgent though. You should come to the hospital as soon as possible.” After hanging up, I smiled silently in the darkness. In the past, I treasured Holden’s hands even more than he did. For a designer, how important hands are goes without saying. I got up slowly and got dressed. Looking at my pale face in the mirror, I even added some lipstick. Only then did I leave and take a cab to the hospital. At the hospital, I asked the front desk for the room number. When I reached the hospital room door, it wasn’t fully closed. There was a gap. The conversation inside drifted out in fragments. “Holden, your hands are insured for over a hundred million. You’d waste them just to play hero for Vivienne? That’s way too high a price for rescuing a damsel in distress.” Holden’s voice was lazy. “This little injury is nothing. As long as she’s okay, it doesn’t matter if they’re ruined.” In that moment, my hand froze in midair. I remembered four years ago when I accidentally spilled coffee and scalded the back of his hand. He didn’t speak to me for three whole days, coldly reproaching me for being clumsy. Another voice from inside continued, full of sighs. “Back when Vivienne got a boyfriend overseas, you got blackout drunk and drove on the highway at 120 miles per hour like you had a death wish. You totaled the front of your car.” “Later when you woke up, to get revenge on Vivienne, you turned around and married Lucia. Lucia’s pathetic enough. She’s just Vivienne’s replacement.” “Lucia can really endure too. These past four years she’s devoted herself completely to taking care of you. She probably still thinks it’s true love.” “Talk about brutal. If she knew her four-year marriage was just a tool you used to provoke Vivienne, that she means less to you than a single tear Vivienne sheds, she’d probably collapse on the spot.” A roaring sound filled my head. The softest part of my heart was being viciously twisted. I stood outside the door, my hands and feet ice cold, even breathing felt painful. So that was it. Before, I thought he was just cold by nature, not good with words. I thought it was because I’d stayed by his bedside for days and nights after his car accident that I’d melted his frozen heart. It turned out it was all for Vivienne. For her, he didn’t even care about his own life. Everything I gave over four years. In others’ eyes, I was just a pathetic woman. So pathetic that in the end, I had nothing. I took out my phone, my fingers trembling as I opened my notes. I took a deep breath, steadied my breathing, and as if nothing was wrong, gently pushed open the door. The laughter in the hospital room stopped abruptly. Everyone in the room looked at me, their expressions incredibly colorful. Grayson looked like he’d seen a ghost, stammering, “When did you get here?” His eyes darted around, afraid I’d heard what they’d just said. I smiled. “Just now. What were you all talking about? Sounded lively.” Hearing this, everyone visibly relaxed. They exchanged glances. Grayson smoothed things over. “Nothing much. We were criticizing Holden for being too impulsive. Since you’re here now, we won’t disturb you.” Another person said, “We were just chatting casually, nothing more. Don’t take it to heart.” With that, the group quickly left.
Lucia’s POV Only Holden and I remained in the hospital room. I walked toward the bed. Holden was leaning against the headboard, his hand wrapped in thick bandages particularly conspicuous. Seeing me approach, he instinctively adjusted his position, displaying the injury more prominently. He seemed almost like he was acting cute with me, struggling to lift his hand as he said, “Lucia, it hurts a bit.” In the past, I would have already had tears in my eyes. I would have felt more distress for his hand than he felt for himself. But I just stopped at the foot of his bed and glanced indifferently at that hand. “What did the doctor say?” I asked. Holden froze. He frowned, seeming very dissatisfied with my reaction, his tone growing heavy. “Five stitches. The tendon almost severed.” I nodded. “Then rest up properly.” After saying that, I had nothing more to add. Holden’s expression grew visibly darker. He stared at me, anger creeping into his voice. “My hand was almost ruined, and this is your reaction?” “What else?” I looked at him, finding it amusing. “Do you want me to cry for you? Or go to church and pray for you?” Holden was momentarily speechless, then let out a cold laugh. “I know what you’re mad about. It’s because I got injured saving Vivienne, isn’t it?” “Lucia, can you not be so narrow-minded? Vivienne was surrounded by creeps. The situation was urgent. What was I supposed to do, just ignore it?” “Can you be a little more generous and stop obsessing over these little things?” In the past when I heard this kind of talk, I would rush to explain myself. But now, I just felt tired. “I’m not bothered at all. I think your actions were great.” “Besides, who you choose to save is your freedom. If you get hurt, you’re the one in pain. I can’t feel it for you, can I?” Holden was stunned. I continued, “If you’re still in pain, call a doctor. I’m not a doctor. I can’t make it stop hurting.” He opened his mouth, his eyes full of disbelief. He’d never seen me like this before. His reaction suggested he’d been expecting me to fuss over him anxiously like I used to. But he didn’t like me that way. After all, just last year, he got his hand caught in a door blown by the wind. I was terrified and insisted on dragging him to the hospital for a checkup. He shook off my hand, looking completely impatient. “Can you not make such a big deal out of everything? Does this little injury really warrant this? Going to the hospital would just be embarrassing.” Snapping back to the present, the hospital room door was pushed open. Vivienne came in with red-rimmed eyes, carrying a takeout container. As soon as Vivienne entered, she placed the thermos by the bedside and threw herself at Holden. “Holden! This is all my fault! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt…” Her voice choked with emotion, crying like a pear blossom in the rain. Holden’s uninjured hand wrapped around her waist. Gently patting Vivienne’s back, “I chose to help you. It has nothing to do with you. Don’t blame yourself for everything.” Vivienne carefully picked up his injured hand and gently blew on it. “Does it hurt? What did the doctor say? Will it affect your ability to draw designs in the future?” Holden’s gaze was indulgent. “This little injury will heal with some rest.” The two clung tightly to each other, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. As if in that moment, the world contained only these two lovers. And I stood to the side, practically like the other woman. Only then did Vivienne notice there was someone else in the room. She withdrew from Holden’s embrace, looking at me apologetically. “Lucia, I was just so worried about Holden. I couldn’t sleep at home at all, so I bought some soup and brought it over.” As she spoke, she opened the takeout container. The aroma of chicken soup wafted out. “Holden loves this place’s soup the most.” Vivienne ladled out a bowl and held it to Holden’s lips. Holden noticed I was standing nearby. Flustered, he pushed away Vivienne’s soup, his tone a bit awkward. “This soup is too rich. I’m not used to it.” Then he looked at me. “Lucia, I want to eat your cooking.” His tastes were quite particular, and his appetite wasn’t great. To get him to eat more, I used to buy quality ingredients and spend three or four hours in the kitchen. If there was anything about me he was satisfied with, it was probably only that I could make good soup. Vivienne’s expression stiffened uncontrollably. He looked at me, his tone softening a bit. “I don’t eat outside food. This place’s taste isn’t authentic either.” He paused, then added, “Yours is just right.” I checked the time on my phone. It was already 3:30 AM. I had an important project meeting first thing in the morning. This place was still some distance from the office. If I went back now, I could barely get a few hours of sleep. Now I was unwilling to sacrifice my sleep time for Holden. “I don’t have time to cook. Miss Vivienne already brought soup. Don’t let her kindness go to waste.” “I have a meeting tomorrow. You rest up here. I’m leaving.” I put away my phone and turned to leave. “Stop.” Seeing I was really leaving, Holden called out anxiously. Then his slightly suspicious gaze swept across my face, as if confirming something. “You’re not angry? Why have you been so generous lately?” “Usually you cry and make scenes. Why are you so calm now?” I smiled and asked him back, “Isn’t this better?” He was rendered speechless, his expression unpleasant, though he said nothing. Yes, I wasn’t this generous before. I loved him so pathetically. At the slightest disturbance, I’d act like a shrew. Never again. Someone I don’t love can’t stir up waves in my heart anymore.
Lucia’s POV After leaving the hospital, I went straight back to the office. After the morning meeting, I received another assignment for an out-of-town business trip. This time, I still didn’t notify Holden. I worked around the clock at the project site for a week, barely touching the ground. During that time, Holden sent me a few texts asking when I’d come back to cook and where I was. I didn’t reply to any of them. Not until the day I was heading back. I was waiting for my flight at the gate. Bored, I scrolled through Ins. The first post was from Vivienne. The image was a mirror selfie. In the photo, Vivienne wore an extremely thin lace dress, almost transparent. Holden stood behind her, holding a measuring tape, concentrating on measuring her waist. Their posture was suggestive, looking almost like he was embracing her from behind. The caption read: “Holden’s hand just recovered and he can’t wait to take my measurements. Is this what it means to be someone’s exclusive muse?” The comments below were full of envy, all praising how perfect they looked together, with some even asking when they’d get married. Holden had replied with a heart emoji. Looking at this photo, I just found it funny. In the past, seeing something like this would have made me shake with anger. I’d screenshot it and send it to Holden demanding an explanation. But now, I just thought the dress cut made her hips look wide. My finger tapped the screen. I casually liked the Ins post. Then I closed my phone and boarded the plane to sleep. The plane landed in the evening. As soon as I turned on my phone, Holden’s call came through. I answered, and before I could speak, his voice came through suppressing rage. “Lucia, what’s the meaning of that like?” “What meaning?” I dragged my suitcase out while asking carelessly. “Vivienne’s Ins post!” Holden’s tone was agitated. “Did you do it on purpose? Liking it to pretend you don’t care when you’re actually angry inside? Using this method to get my attention?” I paused, almost laughing in exasperation. This man’s self-confidence was truly in his bones. “You’re overthinking.” I said flatly. “The photo was nice, the dress was good, so I casually liked it. What, do you want to control other people’s freedom to like posts too?” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. “Where are you?” He changed the subject, his tone slightly softer. “My hand is healed. I want soup tonight. When are you coming back?” Soup again. Did he think that as long as he asked, I had to make it for him? “I’m at the airport. Just got back from a business trip.” “Business trip?” Holden’s voice rose sharply. “You went on another business trip? Where? With whom? Why didn’t you report it?” I frowned and held the phone away a bit. “Holden, remember when we got back together we agreed not to interfere with each other? I’m very busy. I don’t have time to report my itinerary to you.” “If you’re that bored, go take measurements with Vivienne. Don’t bother me.” With that, I hung up directly. I got home late at night. As soon as I entered, the house was dark with no lights on. I’d just changed my shoes when someone grabbed me from behind. My nose filled with a strong smell of tobacco. I frowned. I hated the smell of smoke. Holden used to go to the balcony to smoke for my sake, or let the smell dissipate before coming inside. But now, he reeked of smoke. “Lucia…” He buried his head in the crook of my neck, his voice muffled. “You’re finally back. I missed you.” As he spoke, he turned my body around and lowered his head to kiss me. His movements were urgent and rough. I felt nauseated and shoved him away hard. “Click.” I turned on the entryway light. The sudden brightness made Holden squint. He looked at me, his face dark, his eyes carrying both shock at being pushed away and anger. “Lucia, what’s your problem?” He wiped his lips, dissatisfied. “We’re husband and wife. Being intimate is normal. Why are you so resistant?” I looked at him coldly. “Holden, go shower. You reek of smoke and that cheap perfume.” “It’s disgusting.”
Lucia’s POV After that day, Holden stopped looking for me. Probably felt his ego was bruised. But I could still keep tabs on his activities. Because entertainment news was full of him and Vivienne. Holden attended Fashion Week with Vivienne in a high-profile manner, the two walking the red carpet hand in hand, being called the fashion world’s best couple. The young women at the office were all discussing it. “Wow, Mr. Prescott and the goddess are such a perfect match!” “I heard they grew up together. This is like a novel come to life!” “Vivienne must be that legendary secret ex-wife. Now they’re back together. So sweet!” Listening to these discussions, I focused on revising my design drafts. At lunch, I’d just taken a bite of salad when my stomach churned violently. I rushed to the restroom and dry-heaved for a long time without vomiting anything. The familiar feeling made my heart sink. That afternoon, I took leave and went to the hospital. Getting the test results, I looked at the confirmed pregnancy and felt no surprise whatsoever. Just a bit ironic. Calculating the time, it must have been that night before Vivienne returned to the country. That day Holden had been drinking. In the heat of the moment, he whispered in my ear, “Lucia, let’s have a baby. I want a child that belongs to us.” I didn’t respond then because I didn’t believe him. I knew these were just arousing words he said in bed. Just like three years ago. Back then, I got pregnant for the first time. I was ecstatic, taking the pregnancy test results home to surprise him. But Holden was working on a design. Seeing the test results, his brows furrowed tightly. He said coldly, “I’m not ready for a child. Get rid of it. A baby will interfere with my creative process.” I cried and begged him to keep the child. He stormed out in frustration, dragging his suitcase and flying abroad. That night, I slipped in the bathroom and started bleeding. I was in agony and called him for help. But Vivienne answered the phone. Before I could speak, Holden’s voice came through, impatient. “Lucia, you’re just trying tricks to keep the baby, aren’t you? I made myself very clear. This child comes at a bad time. Stop calling me. I’m very busy right now!” Then the call was disconnected. He said he was busy. I found out later that night he was busy keeping the newly heartbroken Vivienne company. Later it was a neighbor who heard the commotion and sent me to the hospital. The baby wasn’t saved. I stayed in the hospital for half a month. Holden never came once. Snapping back to reality, I crumpled the test results in my hand and tossed them in the trash. This time, I didn’t plan to tell him. This child was just an accident. Since I’d decided to leave, there was no need to keep this burden. Thinking this, I actually missed a step going downstairs. My stomach hit first, and there was blood everywhere beneath me. This child still wasn’t meant to be. The doctor told me I’d need to come back to the hospital in a few days for surgery to prevent complications from the incomplete miscarriage. After all this, I sent my supervisor Mr. Vance a message requesting two weeks off. Mr. Vance asked if something was wrong and whether I needed help. I just said I was handling some private matters. I went home. I wanted to get some clothes to change into and bring my mother’s veil with me. It was the dowry my mother left me on her deathbed, and the only thing I planned to take with me when I left. As soon as I pushed open the door, the living room lights were glaring. I froze in the entryway. In the center of the living room, Vivienne stood completely naked except for a thin white veil draped over her, posing in front of Holden. Holden held a paintbrush, his expression focused. Hearing the door open, both turned their heads simultaneously. Vivienne cried out and immediately threw herself into Holden’s arms as if she’d suffered some great injustice. “Oh! Why is Lucia back!” Holden reacted extremely quickly, grabbing his suit jacket and wrapping her up tightly. He frowned at me, his eyes full of displeasure at being interrupted. “Why didn’t you make a sound when you came back? Don’t you know to knock?” Vivienne peeked out from his embrace, her cheeks flushed, her voice coy. “Lucia, don’t misunderstand. I’m just helping Holden find creative inspiration. The human body itself is art…” My stomach churned again. So-called art required stripping naked and parading in front of him? I said nothing and walked straight past them toward the bedroom. “Lucia!” Holden called out behind me. “What’s with that expression? Is art that dirty in your eyes?” I ignored him and entered the bedroom, rummaging through drawers and cabinets. My mother’s veil had always been kept in a box at the bottom of the closet. I remembered very clearly. But it wasn’t there. The box was empty. My heart skipped a beat. I turned and rushed out of the bedroom. “Where’s my veil?” I stared at Holden. Before Holden could answer, Vivienne suddenly raised her hand timidly from behind him. “Lucia… are you talking about this veil?”She was holding a ball of white lace in her hand. It was the veil my mother had left me. At that moment, that veil was casually wrapped around her wrist, with part of it even dragging on the floor. My mind went blank with a roar. “Give it to me.” I held out my hand to her, my voice shaking. “That’s mine.” Vivienne looked utterly innocent. “I saw it in the closet and thought it looked pretty, so I took it out to try on. I’ll give it back to you right now.” As she spoke, she held the veil out to me. Just as I reached to take it. Vivienne’s fingers suddenly hooked onto a piece of lace edging and yanked hard. The lace veil tore with a huge gash. Vivienne cried out, covering her mouth. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Lucia! I didn’t mean to! Why is this veil such poor quality? It broke with just one touch…” She was saying sorry, but her eyes were full of provocation. In that moment, all my rationality snapped. I rushed over and shoved her aside, trembling as I picked up the veil from the floor. Vivienne fell to the ground with the momentum, crying with tears streaming down her face. “Holden! That hurt… Why did Lucia push me…” Holden’s face was dark. He strode over, helped Vivienne up, then roughly shoved me. “Lucia! What the hell is wrong with you?” He pointed at the torn fabric in my hands, furious. “It’s so old and you still treasure it like that? If it’s ruined, I’ll buy you a new one. Was it really necessary to push someone?” I touched it, my heart feeling like something was squeezing it tight, unable to breathe from the pain. I looked up, staring hard at Holden. “You know.” My voice was hoarse. “This is something my mom left me. I’ve told you many times how important it is to me.” Holden froze for a moment, as if remembering something, a flash of discomfort in his eyes. But he quickly avoided my gaze, turning to check Vivienne’s knee. “That’s still no reason to push someone. Vivienne is a guest, and she came here to help me.” He looked at me coldly. “You’re so emotionally unstable. Calm down. Don’t act crazy at home. Vivienne doesn’t want to see you.” I looked at him. This man I’d loved for seven years. The last trace of reluctance in my heart was finally extinguished. I folded the veil and put it in my bag. “Fine.” I looked at him, my tone terrifyingly calm. “Holden, let’s break up.” Holden’s hand, which had been rubbing Vivienne’s knee, paused. He had his back to me and didn’t even turn around, his tone full of mockery. “Lucia, you said it. If you’ve got the guts to leave, don’t come back.” He still thought I was throwing a tantrum like before. Every time we fought and talked about breaking up, I was the one who eventually came crawling back to apologize. The one who’s favored always acts without fear. I didn’t say anything more. I turned around, took off the spare key, and placed it on the shoe cabinet. I pushed open the door and the night wind rushed in. Before leaving, I looked back one more time. On the easel in the living room sat an unfinished design sketch. The girl in the drawing wore a gorgeous wedding dress with a platinum necklace around her neck. That was something Holden had specially custom-made for Vivienne. The one around my neck was just a freebie that came with buying a necklace. The drawing wasn’t finished. The girl’s face was blank. But I knew it wasn’t me. I closed the door, shutting those four absurd years behind me. Then I took out my phone and deducted the last remaining 10 points from my notes. Zero points, Holden. There’s nothing left between us.
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