The day I won the National Photography Contest, Liam, my boyfriend of eight years, said he’d personally present the flowers on stage. Standing on that podium, my heart was pounding with anticipation, ready to propose with my championship ring. But then, with a smile that twisted my gut, he publicly handed that bouquet of roses to his female friend, Harper. Under the harsh spotlight, they became the undeniable center of attention. The venue buzzed, and trending topics online exploded with congratulatory messages. Harper’s fans even tagged me in their posts: “Told you not to cling to our favorite couple! Bet you feel silly now, huh?” I simply posted a message on Ins: “Respect. Blessings. May you two be forever tied.” Under the dazzling spotlight, I gripped the trophy, a symbol of the industry’s highest honor, standing center stage in the awards hall. My boyfriend, Liam, walked slowly toward me, a bouquet of fresh flowers in his hands. He’d once promised that when I won the National Photography Contest, he’d announce our relationship during the awards ceremony. Tonight, he must have come specially to give me flowers, even picking roses, symbols of love. It was the first time he’d ever given me flowers, and his expression was so focused. My cheeks flushed as I tried to calm the wild flutter in my chest, my eyes fixed on him as he approached. I mentally rehearsed my plan: the moment he handed me the flowers, I’d pull out the ring and propose to him live, in front of the whole country. Even if we’d been arguing just yesterday over some work disagreements. But what couple doesn’t have a few arguments, right? My fingers nervously traced the outline of the ring in my pocket. “Congratulations on your win!” Liam said, extending the flowers. I reached out, joy bubbling in my chest, ready to take them. But they brushed past my outstretched hand, landing squarely in the arms of my colleague, Harper, who stood beside me. Harper was Liam’s long-time friend, someone he’d known even longer than me, and also a photographer. My smile instantly froze, a brittle mask on my face. Staring at my boyfriend, who was now beaming at Harper, I paused, then let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. Harper. Again. I should have known. In his heart, this female friend had always been more important than his girlfriend. Our argument yesterday? It was about Harper, too. Yet, I never imagined he would publicly give flowers, symbols of love, to Harper. Harper, with her unique photography style and rare beauty, had a massive following in the photography community. Giving her flowers in public like that would undoubtedly be misinterpreted by everyone. Silently, I slipped the ring back into my pocket, hearing the entire venue erupt in fan screams. The sound was so loud, it felt like it could tear the roof off. Flashes from cameras exploded, making everything else around them fade into insignificance. The awards ceremony wasn’t even over, and videos of their interaction were already trending. They looked like a perfect match, talented and attractive, prompting countless people to “ship” them as a couple. But all that excitement had nothing to do with me. With a wry smile, I stepped off the stage and walked alone to the backstage lounge. Watching the flood of well-wishes on trending topics, I suddenly felt utterly exhausted. Perhaps it was time to put an end to this relationship. So, I sent Liam a SnapChat message: “Let’s break up. I won’t get in your way anymore.” The moment I sent it, Liam called. I didn’t plan to answer, hanging up immediately. Then I called a cab and headed back to our shared apartment to pack my bags. This apartment was mine and Liam’s. Since we’d broken up, there was no way I could continue living under the same roof as him. While I packed, Liam sent me countless messages: “What do you mean, ‘break up’?” “What are you stirring up now! Can you stop being so petty!” “Alright, everyone wants to celebrate, come on over, Harper and the others are waiting for you!” Every single word revolved around Harper. He gave roses to another woman, then turned around and accused me of being narrow-minded. I scoffed at my phone, turned it off, and zipped up my suitcase. It all happened so suddenly; I didn’t have time to find another place, so I decided to temporarily move into a friend’s vacant apartment. The apartment was quiet. All the other exhibitors were out celebrating. Habitually, I turned on my laptop, exported the raw files from the awards ceremony, and began post-processing. Only when I focused on color grading and composition could I find a semblance of peace.
Liam didn’t call until the middle of the night. I was still sifting through shooting material then. I glanced at my phone on the side, pressed the mute button, and had no intention of answering. Immediately, a flurry of messages popped up. “Why aren’t you home yet?” “Where did you go?” “The flowers I specially picked for you are wilting, where are you? Didn’t you say you liked the flowers I gave you?” Did I need flowers as an apology after the fact? I turned off the screen, a self-deprecating smirk playing on my lips. He was always like this: hit me, then offer a sweet treat. In the past, deeply in love with him, I never saw anything wrong with his behavior. I even rationalized it, convincing myself he truly cared about me. But now, I was clear-headed. I knew he was just stringing me along. I was leaving. In this world, no one is indispensable. Not me, and not Liam. … I pulled an all-nighter that day, organizing my portfolio, then slept soundly until three in the afternoon the next day. I went to my former studio to handle my resignation handover and saw Liam sitting at my old desk, deep in thought. I wasn’t surprised he found me here. After all, besides home and here, where else would I go? Hearing footsteps, he turned and saw me. “What happened last night? You didn’t answer your calls, didn’t reply to my messages. I thought something terrible had happened to you!” I cleared my throat, my voice flat. “I went to bed early.” Liam froze, then frowned. He looked at me, puzzled. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you so quiet today?” He was right. In the past, seeing him show up on his own, I would have been overjoyed, practically bouncing off the walls, eager to tell him every little detail of my day. But now, all I had was silence, so it was natural for him to find it strange. And he seemed to have forgotten that I’d already broken up with him yesterday. He certainly wouldn’t remember how he’d publicly humiliated me. Before I could interject, he spoke again: “Today marks Harper’s third anniversary in our photography circle. She’s hosting, let’s go together.” I wanted to make an excuse to decline, but as an insider, my absence might lead to unnecessary speculation. Besides, I wanted a chance to tell everyone that Liam and I were over. I simply hummed in agreement, stood up, straightened my clothes, and followed him to the hotel. When we arrived, I realized it wasn’t just Harper’s friends who were there. There was a large crowd of Harper’s photography fans. More than a celebration of Harper’s three-year anniversary, it felt like a fan meet-and-greet. I hadn’t even entered the door yet, but I could already hear the clamor from the banquet hall. I instinctively looked for Liam, but he was already gone. “Looking for Liam? I’ll take you.” Ryan, Liam’s friend, appeared out of nowhere, leading me straight to a private room on the second floor. Looking down, Liam’s figure appeared on the stage. He was pushing a giant cake, holding a string of pink and white balloons, making a surprise appearance for Harper. Below, fans screamed, shouting for them to get married on the spot, even calling Liam “brother-in-law.” Ryan raised an eyebrow at me, then pointed to the two on stage: “See? Don’t they make a perfect couple?” A bitter taste filled my throat. Yes, they did. A perfect match.
Liam had never put so much effort into anything for me. Even on my birthday, when I explicitly asked for a cake, he would only grumble impatiently, saying we were adults, why bother with such pointless formalities? Yet now, in front of everyone, he had given Harper such a grand surprise. It was clear: only when you truly cared did you put in the effort. Ryan watched my reaction, seemingly satisfied by my obvious distress. A playful smirk played on his lips, twisting a knife in my heart. After the meet-and-greet, Liam and Harper returned to the private room together. Ryan immediately clapped Liam on the shoulder, teasing, “Liam, you prepared such a huge surprise for Harper, aren’t you afraid your girl will get jealous?” Liam’s body stiffened, and he looked up at me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Next time it’s your birthday or our anniversary, I’ll prepare a similar surprise for you.” I shook my head faintly. “No need.” If it was exactly the same, how could it still be a surprise? I wasn’t so pathetic as to want something someone else had already used. Liam pursed his lips, seemingly wanting to say more but holding back. Before he could speak, Harper interjected, “Chloe, you’re not angry, are you? Liam was just cooperating for the sake of studio publicity, don’t take it to heart.” “As his girlfriend, you should be more understanding of him, don’t always make him guess your thoughts to please you; it’s very hard on him.” Typical of Liam’s long-time friend, always looking out for him. I let out a soft laugh. “With you looking out for him, who needs anyone else to interfere?” The words carried a hint of provocation, instantly freezing the atmosphere. Harper sighed, offering a helpless smile. “Alright, it seems you really are angry. I apologize then, don’t blame Liam.” Awkwardness hung in the air. Someone quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “We’re all in the same circle, why are we being so formal? Come on, let’s drink, let’s drink.” Ryan squeezed into the middle, grinning. “It’s not just today, you know? Liam even gave Harper flowers yesterday.” He finished, looking at me with a playful smirk, seeking confirmation. His words made Liam think he’d found the key to the problem. He turned to me. “Are you really sulking over something so small?” He said casually, “I bought you flowers yesterday too, but you left early, so I didn’t get to give them to you. But, I still have them.” With that, he walked to a corner of the private room and pulled out a small bouquet of Lisianthus from a cardboard box filled with beer. The moment he brought them out, someone couldn’t help but let out a snicker. The reason was simple—this bouquet of Lisianthus looked cheap, a stark contrast to the red roses Liam had given Harper yesterday. Harper had even brought her roses with her, and placed side by side, the difference was painfully obvious. The gazes around me carried a hint of mockery, as if to taunt me for daring to compare myself to Harper. Harper, meanwhile, proudly raised an eyebrow, her face beaming with triumph. She looked disdainfully at the Lisianthus bouquet, feigning a scolding tone. “Liam, you should have given Chloe roses, why these flowers?” Her tone practically screamed that Liam was treating me like giving scraps to a beggar. Liam replied blandly, “After the dinner party last night, it was already very late when I went to buy flowers; there were no more roses. These flowers are passable; she’s not very picky anyway, she probably won’t mind.” The best for Harper, just “passable” for me. Turns out, love and indifference were so painfully clear. How could he assume I didn’t care? He extended the flowers to me, but I didn’t reach out to take them. Liam’s previously relaxed brow furrowed again. “You don’t like flowers anymore? I specifically picked these for you.” “No, thanks. Give them to someone else,” I replied calmly. “What are you stirring up now?” he pressed. “I’m not stirring anything up; I’m serious. I have things to do, so I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll be leaving.” I opened the private room door and left without looking back. Just a few steps out, the whispers behind me began. “Chloe is taking this way too seriously.” “Harper and Liam’s video went viral, and our studio received a lot of sponsorships. Isn’t that a good thing? Why be so nitpicky?” “Exactly.” Liam lost his patience, tossing the flowers aside. “Let her go, I’m not dealing with her anymore.” Those sharp words stabbed at my heart again and again. I paused, a profound sense of sadness rising within me. In his heart, I was so utterly insignificant.
Back at my temporary place, I made a packet of instant ramen and settled down in front of my computer to continue organizing my contest entries. Only when my eyes started to ache did I reluctantly close the laptop. My phone suddenly pinged with a notification. I opened it to find that Harper had posted on SnapChat. [So glad to have you. You even made me hangover soup when I was drunk.] The photo showed Liam in an apron, busy in the kitchen, looking incredibly cozy in the soft lighting. So, Liam could cook for others. I let out a self-deprecating laugh and commented: “Your boyfriend is so thoughtful. Wishing you two a happy ever after.” Then I completely blocked both him and Harper on SnapChat. Soon after, a call came in from an unknown number. Liam’s voice came through. “Chloe, what was that comment about?” “Do you have to make everyone miserable to be satisfied? Apologize to Harper right now, or you won’t see me for days!” I smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, I won’t bother you again.” Then I hung up. In the days that followed, I focused entirely on my new photography project, already adapting to life without him. It wasn’t until the industry networking event that he reappeared before me. At the entrance to the venue, Liam stood tall and handsome in a sharp suit. He really was attractive. I remembered being struck by him the first time we met. Back then, he’d also been at the studio looking for someone. Thinking about it now, he was probably looking for Harper even then. I scoffed, walked around him, and headed straight into the venue. He paused, then quickly followed behind me. “Chloe, how long are you planning to give me the silent treatment?” His tone was slightly impatient. “You haven’t been home for days, and you blocked me. What exactly do you want?” Inside the venue, Harper and other colleagues cast curious, gossipy glances our way. I swept my gaze over them, deciding to make things clear. “Liam, we’ve already broken up.” He looked at me in disbelief. “Are you serious? Just because fans are shipping me and Harper?” A note of accusation crept into his voice. “Chloe, when did you become so arbitrary?” “You know perfectly well those are just online jokes. Harper and I are just friends. Can you please stop making assumptions about our relationship?” At his words, Harper’s expression turned complex, and she looked at me with a hint of triumph. But I didn’t care anymore. I smiled faintly. “You’ll never realize what the problem is.” “Then tell me, what’s my problem? Is it not that you’re overly sensitive?” Liam stared directly at me. I didn’t respond. As the organizers and other guests arrived, I simply picked an empty seat. Liam seemed to want to say more, but, with everyone else present, he had no choice but to leave, planning to confront me after the event.
During the studio’s debriefing meeting, Mr. Davies specifically praised Harper, saying her collaborative photography series with Liam had garnered a sensational response on social media, bringing in numerous new clients and commercial partnerships for the studio. Then, his tone shifted, and he gave me a meaningful glance before announcing a team restructuring. A flicker of subtle triumph crossed Harper’s face, and an ominous feeling immediately rose in my heart. Sure enough, Mr. Davies continued, “Chloe, you’ve contributed a lot to the studio these past two years; everyone sees that. However…” “Considering you need time to recover from your previous car accident, we’ve decided not to assign you to the core shooting projects for the next season for now.” “Harper will take over as Lead Photographer, and she’ll be leading several important commercial projects.” “You’re a veteran here, Chloe, so I won’t treat you unfairly. During your recovery, you can assist the team with post-production photo selection and material organization.” Relegating a Lead Photographer who had just won a national award to an administrative role was nothing short of a demotion in disguise. I couldn’t help but offer a bitter smile. “Thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Davies, but I joined this studio to create and shoot. If I can no longer hold a camera, I choose to leave.” Ignoring his frozen expression, I stood up and walked straight out of the conference room. Liam, waiting by the door, looked utterly stunned. Just as he was about to speak, Harper followed me out, her voice laced with provocation. “Chloe, why be so stubborn? If you’re willing to talk nicely, I might be able to put in a good word with Mr. Davies to let you stay and participate in some minor shoots.” She briefly explained the decision to Liam. Liam frowned, trying to persuade me. “Don’t be impulsive. Where will you go to develop your career if you leave here? Doing post-production isn’t so bad; at least it’s stable, and you’ll have more time…” I cut him off with a cold laugh. “No need.” I continued walking out, with Liam and Harper still following behind, attempting to dissuade me. Liam, especially, kept insisting that I should humble myself to Harper. Just then, an out-of-control car swerved violently towards us. Without a second thought, Liam shoved Harper out of the way, shouting, “Harper, watch out!” I, however, couldn’t react in time, was struck by the car, and thrown several feet, hitting the ground hard. Intense pain instantly spread through me, and my vision began to blur. “Chloe!” Liam’s face went white as he rushed toward me. But I no longer had the strength to respond and finally lost consciousness. When I next awoke, I was lying in a hospital bed. Liam was sitting by my bedside. Seeing my eyes open, he immediately leaned closer. “You’re awake?! You were unconscious for three whole days… When the car came at us, why didn’t you dodge?” He babbled on, trying to help me sit up, but I instinctively flinched away from his touch. Liam paused. “Are you… still angry at me?” He quickly explained, “I’m sorry, the situation was so sudden, I just instinctively…” He trailed off mid-sentence, his gaze darting away. I merely responded calmly, “I understand. You just instinctively protected her. You don’t need to explain.” In that moment, his primal instinct had been to choose Harper. That said it all. My heart felt like a still, cold pond, too numb even for disappointment. Liam tried to say something else, but a phone call interrupted him.
He glanced at the caller ID, his expression hesitant, but he answered eventually. “Liam, my wrist really hurts, I might have sprained it when I fell that day… Will it affect next month’s outdoor shoot? Can you come see me?” Harper’s voice, intentionally fragile, drifted from the earpiece. Liam immediately looked anxious, then glanced at me, torn. “Go ahead, I’ll be fine,” I offered, letting him off the hook. He looked relieved, and after hanging up, he was full of apologies. “I’m sorry, I’ll be back as soon as I can. Harper, she… she gets emotional, I’m worried it might affect her work…” I softly hummed in response, knowing full well he likely wouldn’t be back anytime soon. It wasn’t the first time he’d abandoned me for Harper. Last year on my birthday, we’d planned to go to the mountains to shoot the stars, but he left me alone in the countryside because Harper called saying she’d forgotten her keys. It even started raining heavily that day, and I almost had an accident due to the slippery mountain road. As I was reminiscing, a “nurse” entered, pushing a tray. Seeing the room empty, she frowned. “Where’s your family? No one to stay with you? Don’t they know you need to be observed after a car accident?” I shook my head. “I don’t have family.” The “nurse” looked surprised. “Then… the gentleman who was here earlier, watching over you, wasn’t your boyfriend?” “We broke up a long time ago.” She was speechless for a moment. Just then, my phone rang, and she naturally picked it up for me. As soon as she answered, Mr. Davies’s furious roar came through the phone. “Chloe, find a time to clear out your personal belongings! Your hand is in that state, can you even press the shutter anymore? The studio doesn’t keep idle hands; you’re fired!” The call ended, making the atmosphere in the hospital room even more awkward. My heart sank, my voice hoarse. “My hand… I really can’t shoot anymore?” The “nurse,” however, suddenly lit up, quickly stepping closer. “Who said that! Your injury is an ulnar fracture with ligament sprain, but with good rehabilitation, you can absolutely recover your shooting function!” She paused, her voice becoming excited. “Chloe, if they don’t want you, I do! Come join my team!”
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