I had loved Lucas Hayes for ten long years. He was always so cold, so distant, yet he never objected to our engagement. I foolishly believed that meant he was okay with it, that he wanted it. Until that day. I was braving the torrential downpour, rushing to bring him his stomach medicine. That’s when I stumbled upon Brittany Miller, the heiress of a rival company, playfully coaxing him to drink. I stepped forward to stop her, but his voice was scathing: “Do you really think you’re going to be Mrs. Hayes?” “Mind your own business.” In the noisy, crowded bar, my tears mingled with the rain, blurring my vision. Lucas, from this moment on, your life means nothing to me. Your affairs are no longer my concern. Lights flickered, casting shifting shadows across the bar. My hand clenched around the stomach medicine, and my body felt numb with cold. Mocking glances and looks of amusement and contempt fell on me from all directions. But what stung the most was Lucas’s impatient expression. He had chronic stomach issues; he had to take his medication after eating, otherwise the pain would be unbearable. I’d called him several times, but he hadn’t picked up, so I’d had to ask around for the location of tonight’s gathering. Just as I was about to arrive, a sudden downpour started. It was peak hour traffic; a mere five-hundred-meter stretch, but the GPS blared “thirty minutes.” Desperate to get the medicine to Lucas, I’d dashed through the downpour, soaked to the bone. In the sultry lighting, Brittany was draped against him, playfully coaxing him to drink. He, a man who loathed physical contact, was letting her do whatever she pleased. The moment I pushed the door open, her glass hovered at his lips, a scene of unbearable intimacy, dripping with unspoken desire. A pang of bitter jealousy twisted in my gut, but what flashed in my mind was Lucas’s face, pale with pain during one of his episodes. “He can’t drink!” The words burst out before I could stop them. The room fell silent, the buzzing chatter evaporating. I instinctively looked down. My mud-splattered black leather shoes left a tiny, dark stain on the pristine floor. A wave of mortification washed over me. But what humiliated me even more was Lucas’s response. He leaned back on the couch, a faint ‘Tsk’ escaping his lips. “Do you really think you’re going to be Mrs. Hayes?” “Mind your own business.” He didn’t even spare me a glance, tipping his head back to down the whiskey in one swift gulp. The words I’d meant to say died in my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I swallowed hard, battling the tears, desperate not to look as pathetic as I felt. The others subtly shifted their gazes, treating me like invisible air. They moved carefully, detouring around me when they passed. A sympathetic girl, unable to watch, offered me a dry napkin. But her friend immediately yanked her away: “Why bother with her?” Rainwater dripped incessantly from my hair. Past memories replayed, one after another, in my mind. It hit me then, a cold, crushing realization. Lucas didn’t object to our engagement, not because he secretly wanted it, but because… he simply didn’t care. He didn’t care about his mother’s promise, about my grandma’s dying wish, or about me. To put it more cruelly, he held me in contempt. That’s why he’d stayed silent when others said I wasn’t good enough for him. That’s why my heartfelt concern was nothing more than “meddling” in his eyes. Mortification, humiliation, anger, and a deep sense of betrayal intertwined, but strangely, they dissolved into an eerie calm. I slowly dried my hair, then quietly placed the stomach medicine on the table. One last glance at Lucas. And then, without a backward look, I walked out of that bar.
The lights were still on at the Hayes’ estate. Vivian and a few friends were sitting in the living room, sipping tea. I was at the doorway, changing my shoes, and their conversation drifted clearly into my ears. “Vivian, you’re not actually going to let Lucas marry the housekeeper’s granddaughter, are you?” “If you ask me, you’re just too superstitious.” “Kids get sick easily! Look at Lucas now, he’s grown up, and his health is perfectly fine, isn’t it?” It was Karen, Vivian’s closest friend. Ever since Lucas and I got engaged, she’d always found reasons to disparage me. She’d said things like this not just behind my back, but to my face countless times. Vivian sighed. “Chloe has had a hard life.” “She took such good care of Lucas.” “When Lucas gets married, I’ll make sure to compensate her generously.” My vision blurred, hot tears stinging my eyes. I bit down hard on my lower lip, remembering how Vivian had once wept, begging me not to leave. Lucas had always been sickly. When he was fourteen, he fell gravely ill, so ill that everyone feared for his life. Desperate, Vivian had consulted a renowned spiritual advisor. That advisor, in turn, had singled me out. She claimed I possessed a rare aura, destined to bring good fortune to my future husband, and that my presence alone would ensure Lucas’s recovery if we were engaged. Just like that, I, an orphan adopted by the Hayes family’s housekeeper, was thrust into the role of Lucas Hayes’s fiancée. Lucas had always been cold towards me. When I greeted him, he’d pretend not to see me. When I secretly watched him, he’d frown and turn away. Once, he had an urgent matter and went home early, but I didn’t know, and was too scared to go look for him in class. I could only wait at the school gate. I waited and waited until the sky darkened, until the school was utterly deserted, walking home with tears streaming down my face. That day, I thought for a long time, and finally, I gathered all my courage and spoke to Vivian about breaking off the engagement. But she’d wept, pleading with me not to be angry with Lucas, listing countless reasons to ‘prove’ he actually liked me. “Chloe, Lucas is just a boy who isn’t good at expressing his feelings.” “He doesn’t say it, but in his heart, he can’t live without you.” “If he didn’t like you, why would he go to school with you every day?” “Why wouldn’t he hang out with other girls?” “And why wouldn’t he object to the engagement?” Her words had anchored me, year after agonizing year, in Lucas’s chilling indifference. Vivian’s kindness towards me had also grown, and sometimes, I’d secretly fantasize about her being my own mother. But the illusion, however, was bound to shatter. While I painstakingly learned how to be a good wife and daughter, they had already, unilaterally, pronounced my sentence. After ten years, this house felt less like a home and more like a gilded cage, and I didn’t know if I could even step inside anymore. On the dark street, I dialed my college roommate Riley’s number. “Riley, is that offer for you to work in the States still on the table?”
By the time I returned to the Hayes’ estate, the tea party had dispersed. Vivian saw I was alone, her face fell, and her voice held a note of accusation: “Chloe, why didn’t you bring Lucas back with you?” It was as if I had intentionally abandoned him outside. Yet she knew perfectly well that Lucas did whatever he pleased, accountable to no one. It used to make me feel small, wronged, but mostly anxious, terrified of displeasing her. Now, I simply stated the fact, my voice even: “He didn’t want to come back.” “Even if he didn’t want to, you should have persuaded him! You know his health isn’t great.” “Who was he with? Why didn’t you stay there and wait for him?” I lowered my eyes, unwilling to argue with her. “Just his usual friends, and Brittany.” At Brittany’s name, Vivian’s expression softened instantly. “Brittany was there? Oh, that’s nice.” Then, as if suddenly remembering something, her brows furrowed as she shot me a quick glance. I knew exactly what she was thinking: that my presence might upset Brittany. I didn’t react with my usual anxious compliance when she was displeased. I simply changed my shoes and went to my room to pack. I had very few belongings at the Hayes’ estate. What needed to be tossed, I tossed; what needed to be discarded, I discarded. What remained fit perfectly into a 28-inch suitcase. Only one thing, I didn’t know what to do with. It was a teddy bear in a brown dress, a gift Lucas had given me the day my grandma passed away. The young Lucas had gently pulled me into his arms, his voice a low, rough murmur: “Chloe, don’t be sad.” “I’ll take care of you from now on.” It was an embrace and a promise born out of pity, yet I had foolishly believed it was proof of Lucas’s special feelings for me. The bear seemed to stare back at me, mocking my foolish, self-deluded heart. I’d originally thought of returning it to Lucas, but then I realized, knowing his temperament, he’d simply toss it into the trash without a second thought.
I barely slept that night. Early the next morning, I carried my belongings downstairs. Lucas was eating breakfast. He glanced at the bundle in my arms, a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but he said nothing. As indifferent as ever. Vivian, however, asked, “Where are you going?” “Nowhere special. Just packing up some old things, I plan to take them out to—” Before I could finish, Lucas’s phone rang. He mumbled a few replies, then stood up and started getting dressed. “Something came up at the office. I’m heading there now.” Vivian reminded him, “Drive safely.” No one cared about my answer anymore. I let out a self-deprecating laugh, then left to hail a cab for the mall. Though the Hayes family had a chauffeur, I never used him. My tuition and living expenses, everything, I earned through odd jobs and part-time work. It was my pathetic way of clinging to some dignity in front of Lucas. As if by not taking advantage of their wealth, I could face him with a sliver more of self-respect. In the city’s most bustling mall, dazzling lights shimmered. I stood at the counter, thinking of buying Riley a brooch as a gift. A familiar voice, laced with a playful whine, floated from behind me: “Lucas, darling, doesn’t this necklace just scream ‘me’?” I instinctively turned my head. A tall, aloof man and a pretty, delicate girl. Anyone would say they made a perfect couple. I merely glanced, my eyes meeting Lucas’s. His eyes held a flicker of impatience. “What are you doing here?” I knew what he was thinking: he suspected I was following him. Back in high school, he’d go out with friends every weekend to unwind. Vivian, always worried, would make me tag along. But those rich kids never liked me. And I couldn’t refuse Vivian, so I’d always trail them secretly. When Lucas caught me, I’d just duck my head, stammering, unable to explain myself. But now, I pointed to the sales associate who was wrapping my purchase, my expression calm. “I’m just here to buy Riley a gift. I’ll be leaving immediately.” Lucas frowned, clearly unconvinced, but I didn’t press the issue or add anything else. From start to finish, I treated him like an acquaintance I’d bumped into by chance.
Back home, I knocked on Vivian’s door. After all, I’d lived in the Hayes’ estate for so many years; it was only right that I said goodbye. When I told her I was going to work in the States, she hesitantly nudged, “The States? What about your engagement to Lucas, then…?” “A childhood promise, nothing more.” Hearing me say that, Vivian feigned annoyance, but a look of profound relief washed over her face. “Chloe, how can you make such a big decision without telling the family?” “But since you’ve made up your mind, then do as you please. You’re a grown woman now, and matters of the heart aren’t for me to interfere with. When are you leaving?” Looking at Vivian, my heart twisted with a bitter ache. Not for her, but for the naive girl I used to be. “Tomorrow morning.” “So soon!” This time, Vivian genuinely looked shocked. Because tomorrow was her birthday. Every year, I’d prepare a surprise and cook her a special birthday meal. Vivian would hug me, teasing, “My daughter-in-law is so thoughtful. That boy Lucas has never cooked for me once!” I paused, then continued, “I won’t be attending your birthday dinner tomorrow.” “So no one gets the wrong idea.” As for what “wrong idea” people might get, Vivian and I both knew perfectly well. She also realized this, her expression turned complicated, and she hesitated, saying nothing for a long moment. I took her silence as consent.
The next day, I timed my descent down the stairs. Lucas was leaning against the sofa, meticulously instructing Martha about the evening’s party arrangements. Broken strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, giving the usually composed man a hint of youthful carelessness. Brittany, in a white cocktail dress, leaned casually against the armrest of the sofa. They were so close they were almost touching. The suitcase was heavy, clattering loudly against the marble stairs. The few people in the living room paused, looking up at me. “Excuse me,” I offered a polite, strained smile, trying to lift the heavy case higher. Lucas took a few steps forward, pointing at my suitcase. “What do you think you’re doing?” His expression was as indifferent as ever, as if asking about something trivial. If not for the noise, and the fact it was Vivian’s birthday, he probably wouldn’t have even bothered to ask. I didn’t want to talk much with him, so I vaguely replied, “Just some work to take care of. I’ll be gone for a few days.” Lucas stepped closer, his expression cold. “Today is my mom’s birthday.” “It’s urgent business. I’ve already spoken with Vivian about it.” I tried to step around him, but he stood still, blocking my path, radiating displeasure. “When are you coming back?” I won’t be returning. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to say them. Saying something like that in this situation felt highly inappropriate. It was Brittany who spoke up, smiling sweetly: “Don’t you usually make a birthday cake for Vivian every year?” “Just because Lucas said a few things to you the other day, now you’re intentionally skipping her birthday?” “Anyone who didn’t know better would think the Hayes family had done something truly awful to you.” I pretended not to hear her words, pulled my suitcase, and quickly walked past both of them. Lucas wouldn’t let me go. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron. A suffocating pressure filled the air, as if the temperature in the room had plummeted.
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