In the sixth year of my secret crush on Cruz Wells, we were still just friends. When I was hospitalized, he was there for me financially and emotionally, doing more than anyone else. When my cousin got engaged, he accompanied me to the celebration and presented the most lavish gift at the event. Everyone believed we would eventually end up together. Finally, I gathered my courage and confessed my feelings to him. But he gave me a dismissive glance, playing with the lighter in his hand, and chuckled softly: “I see you as a friend, and you want to sleep with me? Aya, don’t joke around.” I remained silent for a long while, and finally just nodded, “Okay.” After that day, we didn’t contact each other for a long time. When I received his call again, it was already two months later. He casually asked, “What have you been up to lately? Haven’t seen you in ages.” I glanced at the elegant yet aloof man sitting across from me and answered truthfully, “I’m on a date.” The moment I said that, I heard the shocking sound of a phone being smashed on the other end of the line.
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