My boyfriend was just publicly dragged on Twitter by an A-list actress. Attached to the scathing thread was a video—him wrapping an arm around my waist as we entered a hotel, and then emerging in the early hours of the morning. The rising star, Jade, publicly announced their breakup: [Caspian, I never thought you were this kind of person.] The evidence was irrefutable. The trending topics exploded instantly. “HOLY SHIT, Jade is a queen!” “Wait, when were those two even dating?” “Kinda a shame, their looks together were amazing…” “Is no one curious who the girl in the video is?” I put my phone down, the sheer, crushing absurdity of it all making my head spin. Caspian and I had been childhood sweethearts. Eight years. And now, Jade was his official girlfriend? What did that make me? 1 It took less than half a day after Jade’s post—the one outing Caspian as a cheat—for my personal details to be fully exposed. Paparazzi swarmed the entrance to my office. My phone was drowning in an endless tide of harassing texts. The lies and vitriol wove themselves into a dense, suffocating net, threatening to pull me under. I hid in the company restroom, calling Caspian countless times. He didn’t answer. In desperation, I tried to clarify the situation online. “Are you seriously implying our Jade is the side chick? Are you okay?” “Only a mistress would have the audacity to jump out and try to clean up her mess. Shameless.” As a private citizen, my own Twitter account had zero influence. The few comments I did receive were all condemning me for playing the victim. The wave of abuse grew hotter, faster. In a single afternoon, I had become the public’s punching bag—the home-wrecking ex. I took a deep breath, intending to text HR to ask for time off, but a notification from them beat me to it: “Selena, your personal affairs are causing serious disruption to the company. Please take a temporary leave of absence. Handle your private matters, and then you can return to work.” Temporary leave, she said. After years in the corporate world, I knew exactly what HR meant. It wasn’t a vacation. My phone suddenly buzzed. [Don't do anything. I’m sending someone to pick you up.] It was Caspian. My mind involuntarily replayed every tender detail of his and Jade’s courtship in her post—the small, sweet moments of their newfound love. My heart felt pierced, a dull, aching throb. I stared at the text for a few seconds, but decided to follow his instructions anyway. At the very least, I needed to see him face-to-face and demand an explanation. Under the cover of several of his security team, I slipped into Caspian’s tinted van. He wasn’t inside. His manager, a severe woman named Regina, gave me a cold, clinical look. “You’ll stay at the hotel we’ve arranged for a few days. Wait for word from Caspian.” I didn’t speak, instead watching the passing scenery blur outside the window, my fingers unconsciously tracing the surface of the wristwatch on my left wrist. “Caspian has the matching one to that watch,” Regina suddenly said. “You two have been together for nearly eight years, right?” Her tone was flat. “Every Valentine’s Day, he orders a custom-made pair of matching watches from overseas. He was always very devoted to you.” I froze, feeling distant and hazy. Caspian and I wore the watches for a reason. When we were children, Caspian and I were the least-wanted kids in the neighborhood. His mother had left his father and him for another man. His dad was a heavy drinker who often beat him; once, Caspian ended up in the emergency room. As for me, I had no parents and was raised by my aging, often confused Nana. Every time someone pointed a finger at me and screamed, “The crazy woman’s granddaughter is crazy, too!” Caspian would step up, swinging his fists and hitting them hard. Driven by a desperate need to escape our lives, we were the two best students in the whole area. One day, I was sick with a fever. Nana was boiling me a pot of rice porridge, but she forgot to turn off the gas, and the kitchen caught fire. Luckily, Caspian had come over to study. He found it in time, calmly called for help, and put the fire out. But both of our wrists were badly burned. When we first started dating, Caspian and I were struggling. We were dirt-poor. Yet, for our very first Valentine’s Day, he saved up money from odd jobs for months to buy that first pair of watches. That night, he leaned into my ear, his breath hot and tender on my neck. “Selena,” he whispered. “I promise I’m going to give you a good life.” Later, he was discovered by a scout, and his first role made him an overnight sensation. He did give me a good life. Every Valentine’s Day after that, he gifted me a new pair of matching watches. But this year, there was no watch. In fact, he hadn’t spent Valentine’s Day with me at all. I had cooked a huge meal at home and waited for him all night. Where was he? In Jade’s post, the script had wrapped on Valentine’s Day, and everyone was celebrating with drinks. The two of them had secretly slipped away, strolling through the streets and visiting an amusement park, just like a normal couple. As the Ferris wheel reached its peak, Caspian, still masked, had tentatively kissed her. She removed both their masks and kissed him back, smiling. 2 I stayed in the hotel for two days. I forced myself not to check Twitter, and I didn't contact anyone. On the third day, Caspian finally appeared. I had a fever and was weakly holding onto the doorframe as I reached for water. I looked up and met Caspian’s deep, dark eyes. He looked thinner, which only made his already sharp features look harder, more angular. Dressed in black, he stood there, an icy, detached presence. I leaned against the doorframe, suddenly drained. It occurred to me that today was our eight-year anniversary. Last year, for our seventh anniversary, Caspian’s show was on hiatus, and we had planned a trip to a quiet coastal town. But at the airport, we were ambushed by the paparazzi. The person who inadvertently rescued us was a random female celebrity, also passing through. “Why is she at the same airport as Caspian?” “Didn’t she publicly declare her crush on him last month? Are they really together?” The reporters swarmed, pushing me out of the inner circle and surrounding her and Caspian. Flashbulbs went off everywhere. The actress, who was clearly savvy about PR, saw the situation and her face immediately flushed. “We’re just celebrating the end of filming together, that’s all!” she gushed. Seeing that Caspian didn't stop her, she leaned slightly into his chest, feigning embarrassment. Caspian looked down at her, a gentle smile on his lips, his eyes soft enough to melt. The airport erupted in noise and shouts. But then, he turned his head and looked my way, his eyes filled with a flash of quick apology. That night, the top news items were all about Caspian and that actress. And me? I wanted to post my nine vacation photos on social media, but I didn’t even dare tag the location, terrified that someone would dig up my account later and cause him trouble. That evening, Caspian held me tightly, his chin resting on the crown of my head, his voice firm and earnest. “Just wait a little longer, Selena. Next anniversary, I’ll tell everyone you’re my girlfriend.” 3 My thoughts returned to the present. I was about to speak, but Regina suddenly emerged from behind Caspian and patted me down thoroughly, only leaving once she was satisfied I wasn't carrying anything. “Were you afraid I brought a recording device?” I asked. Caspian, however, acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He smiled. “Selena, I missed you.” I felt a sudden, confusing mix of the urge to laugh and utter bewilderment. After last year's anniversary, our time together had become increasingly rare. He was busy filming and doing promotional tours. I had to keep telling myself to be understanding. One day, I was curled up on the couch and couldn't help but post a frustrated thought on my private feed, saying I wished someone was there. The next morning, I opened my eyes and there he was. He’d seen my post and flown in overnight from the set. Opening the door to him, I was ecstatic, kissing him almost frantically. He just laughed, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “I missed you too. Every part of you.” By the end, I was gasping, gripping his arm like a fish desperate for water. Because he had an early call time, Caspian was gone before dawn the next day. I stood in the empty apartment, forlornly watching his retreating back from the window, and realized he’d left his suitcase. I opened it. It was completely filled with all my favorite snacks. At the very bottom of the snacks was a signed photo of a stage actor I loved. I’d heard a rumor from a fan account on Twitter that Caspian had turned down several appearances and spent three months secretly studying method acting. It was for me. Even later, when the rumors of him and Jade were rampant, I chose to believe him. I genuinely didn’t know how Caspian and I had reached this point. “The post, Jade... aren't you going to explain yourself?” “Explain what?” “All those news articles said you fell for each other on set. I never doubted you; you called it PR spin, and I trusted you. But now?” “If you fell for Jade, you should have just told me. We would have broken up. Why did you lie to me?” “Did cheating on me with another woman feel exciting? Did it make you feel powerful?” “Why did you put me through this?” Caspian looked at me, silent. “Do you have any idea what the last few days have been like? Do you know what people are saying about me online?” My throat was dry and tight. I almost couldn't bring myself to speak the next words. “Caspian, some of those so-called ‘leaks’—the things that paint me as the obsessed ex—you were behind them, weren’t you?” Caspian’s face darkened, but his voice remained calm. “Selena, it’s not what you think.” I looked at him, temporarily lost for a response. The Caspian who would fight anyone for saying one harsh word to me was now watching from the sidelines as I faced a torrent of public abuse, perhaps even fueling it. After all, throwing me under the bus gave his team the necessary time for crisis management. Looking at the man in front of me, I suddenly felt bone-weary. I didn’t want to fight anymore. “Caspian, let’s break up.” “I won’t agree.” He gripped my hand tightly and tried to touch my face, but I coldly pulled away. “My feelings for Jade…” He paused, as if searching for the right excuse, and irritably lit a cigarette. It took him a long moment to answer. “After the fire when we were kids, I’ve always been afraid of fire. On set, there was a major explosion scene, and I couldn’t get into character. She kept encouraging me.” “The roles she and I played in that drama had a deep emotional connection. I’ve never gotten so lost in a role before.” “I just… couldn’t snap out of it.” He suddenly stubbed out the cigarette, his expression growing more irritated and gloomy. Watching him, I laughed—a short, bitter sound. “So you’re saying you were just momentarily confused, and you never actually felt anything for her?” Caspian fell silent. I stared at him. “Did you sleep with her?” Caspian’s face paled slightly. “I waited for you all night on Valentine’s Day. You wouldn’t answer my calls. You were with her, weren’t you?” He looked at me wordlessly, his lips moving, but no sound emerged. A sudden tickle in my throat made me cover my mouth and cough violently. A cool hand reached out and felt my forehead. “You have a fever.” Caspian’s brow furrowed. He grabbed his phone. “I’ll call someone to bring medicine.” Seeing the faint look of concern on his face made my stomach churn. I turned away and dry-heaved. “Stop pretending. It’s disgusting.” A fleeting shadow crossed his eyes. He watched me for a few seconds, then suddenly wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me to the sofa. When I tried to struggle, his fingers moved from my waist to my back, pressing a spot that forced me to slump against his chest. “Selena,” his voice dropped from above me, a low, hoarse sound tangled with an inexplicable coldness. “You said no matter what happened, you’d never leave me.” Seeing that he was about to kiss me, I fought with all my might. “If you have any respect for me left, let go.” Caspian’s body went rigid for a moment, and then he finally released me. “I’m sorry.” The air grew quiet. I looked at him. “I will break up with you peacefully, and I won’t use any information you gave me to fuel the online frenzy. But first, you have to tell the truth, clarify all the facts, and clear my name.” After a moment of silence, Caspian’s throat bobbed. “I can’t do that.” “Selena, I’ve already made a statement. The public won't care about this for long. If you just compromise one more time, and wait for this whole thing to blow over—” “Compromise one more time?” I interrupted him. “What exactly does that mean?” A sudden, terrifying clarity washed over me. My hands trembling, I pulled up Twitter—the app I had been avoiding for days. The top trending topic was Caspian’s public statement. [I apologize for consuming public resources, so I want to start by apologizing to everyone. Selena and I were indeed a couple, but due to certain issues, we had to separate. Later, while filming, Jade and I began a relationship. It was only when I saw Selena again that I understood why she had broken up with me. She suffers from a hereditary mental illness. She came to find me that night because she was experiencing an episode, mistakenly believing we were still together. The darkness that night led to a visual misunderstanding. I deeply regret not telling Jade about this beforehand, and I apologize to her. Selena, upon regaining clarity, is also very apologetic and will be releasing her own statement to clarify the matter.] I stared blankly at the screen. “So, you came here today—” “To ask me to tell the world I’m mentally ill? To say that I, your crazy ex-girlfriend, was harassing you?” 4 Caspian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Selena, Regina will give you the statement draft shortly. Memorize it. She’ll film a video of you.” “Once this is over, we can go back to how things were—” Slap. The sound was sharp and sickeningly loud. I put every ounce of my desperation into it, snapping Caspian’s head to the side. The overhead light caught the blood welling up from a thin scratch my nail had left on his cheek. The air went silent for several seconds. Caspian lowered his head, then calmly gripped my hand, a chilling tenderness leaking into his eyes. “Does your hand hurt?” I didn't pull away. I just looked up and asked quietly, “Do you know what day it is?” Caspian paused, slightly stunned. “Last year, on our seventh anniversary, you promised me that on the next anniversary, you would tell everyone I was your girlfriend.” I smiled faintly. “Today is our eighth anniversary. And you’re asking me to tell the world I’m mentally ill.” Caspian’s face went chalk-white. A year. Not a long time, but not short, either. The eight years of love Caspian and I built, piece by painful piece, were destroyed in a single year—and left utterly unrecognizable. He knew. He knew how terrified I was of being labeled mentally ill because of my grandmother’s condition. He knew. Looking at this man, I felt a dizzying sense of alienation. “Caspian, you are so arrogant. You relied on our eight years, you relied on the fact that I loved you so much, assuming I would forgive your betrayal, sacrifice my dignity, admit to being a lunatic for you, and still want to be with you after all of this.” “But why should I?” “I loved the you who protected me from bullies. The you who would fly to me with surprises, no matter how busy filming was. The you whose eyes and heart were only for me.” I looked at him calmly, every word precise and deliberate. “I do not love this man—this bottomless, sickening stranger you’ve become.” Caspian’s grip tightened, dark emotion swirling in his eyes. Slowly, deliberately, I pulled my hand from his grasp. “Not only will I refuse to record any video, but I will find a journalist and tell them the truth.” “I advise you to think carefully,” Regina’s voice cut in from behind me. Regina met my eyes and raised the phone in her hand. The screen was shattered—it was my phone. “My apologies. We needed to ensure your cooperation, so I took some measures. Of course, we’ll replace it, but naturally, there won't be any messy text messages on the new one.” Regina pulled a new phone from her purse and placed it in my hand. “If you want to expose him, all you can prove is that you didn’t break up last year.” She smiled. “While you’ve been at the hotel for the past two days, we’ve cleared out your apartment. All the evidence of your relationship is gone. That includes all the gifts he’s given you this year, and all your travel receipts from visiting him on set since January.” I looked at Caspian, disbelief washing over me. His face paled, and he shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze. After a long silence, I spoke slowly. “I have backups.” Regina’s expression shifted. “Eight years. I have backups of all our chat histories, our travel receipts. They are not on this phone, of course.” I stared coldly at Caspian. “My demand is unchanged. You post the full truth on Twitter and publicly apologize to me. That way, we can maintain the last shred of dignity between us.” Caspian suddenly laughed, a flicker of sarcasm in his eyes. “Backups?” I took in his expression, a painful, indescribable mix of sorrow and asphyxiation bubbling up in my chest. I grabbed my bag and turned to leave, pausing at the door. “I’m giving you two days to consider.” 5 Leaving the hotel, I clutched my burning forehead and hailed a taxi to the hospital. Lying in the bed, receiving an IV drip, I opened Twitter. I scrolled through the comments under Caspian’s “clarification” post. The first was from Jade: “Seriously?” Caspian replied: “Yes.” The second: “I apologize for speaking harshly before. The fact that you’re still this kind to a mentally ill ex means you’re definitely not a cheat.” The third: “Good thing you broke up. That mental illness is scary.” The fourth: “When is that Selena going to post her clarification?” Caspian replied: “Soon.” I closed my eyes, dropping the phone. The truth was, I didn’t have any backups of the chat histories or travel receipts. For eight years, I had trusted him implicitly, loved him completely. I didn’t dare save full-face photos of him in my phone, and I rarely posted on my feed, limiting myself to maybe a distant back shot or his hand reaching out. I didn't even tag locations when we traveled. How could I have backups? The irony was that I had collected the chat history from the past year. I treasured those few messages like sacred relics. I hadn’t been oblivious to Caspian’s growing coldness and distraction over the last year, but I kept telling myself he was just too busy. On Valentine’s Day, I had created a private Twitter account, a place where I copied and saved our scarce chat logs and his voice messages. I would pull it up and look at it every time I missed him late at night. It was set to 'only me' viewing. Now, by a twist of fate, it had become my weapon. I spent two days alone in the hospital, getting my IV drip. Caspian’s Twitter was silent, and he hadn’t contacted me. In the next bed, an elderly woman was feeding her sick granddaughter. I watched them blankly, a sharp pang hitting me—I missed Nana. After completing the discharge procedure, I called a major fan account I’d connected with while pretending to be a fan visiting Caspian on set. I got the contact information for a well-known journalist, and then hailed a car to the care facility. Three years ago, Nana had a sudden heart attack at home. I was at work, and Caspian, who had just finished filming, rushed her to the hospital. The doctor said Nana was too old and prone to anxiety and delusions; she needed round-the-clock care and shouldn't stay at home. I was sobbing, my legs too weak to stand. Caspian held my waist steady, gently wiping my tears. “I promise I’ll find the best care facility for Nana.” The Caspian of the past was truly wonderful to Nana and me. I wanted to see her before the inevitable, final break with him. I walked the familiar path to Nana’s room. The caregiver looked up, surprised. “Your boyfriend picked Nana up this morning. Weren’t you taking her to get family photos done?” Bzzzz. My head went numb, an icy chill shooting from my feet to the crown of my head. I turned sharply and bolted from the facility, dialing Caspian’s number with trembling hands as I ran. The call connected quickly. “Where are you?” “Where did you take Nana?” “She’s disoriented, she doesn’t recognize anyone! Caspian, what are you trying to do?” The background noise was loud, muffled flashes of camera lights faintly audible. “I’m at the press conference.” Caspian’s low voice sounded in my ear, as if from a great distance. I felt momentarily dazed. “What press conference?” “I know you don’t have a backup.” A sigh came over the phone. “Selena, you loved me too much. How could you have backups?” A wave of bitterness surged in my chest. I spat out the words through clenched teeth. “So what? What do you want to do to Nana?” “I won’t hurt her.” Caspian’s voice was low, trembling. “Selena, I have no other choice. Since you won’t come forward, I can only have Nana clarify for you.” “I taught Nana a few lines. She’s going to say them in front of the cameras. Her memory is excellent—she’s remembered them all.” Tears streamed down my face. I gritted my teeth. “Caspian, don’t make me hate you.” There was a moment of silence. “Selena, I will protect Nana. Don’t worry.” ... By the time I rushed to the hotel, the press conference had been going on for a while. Without a pass, I was stuck outside. On the large screen, the media had packed the room, setting up equipment and adjusting lenses, frantically snapping pictures of Jade and Caspian. I was surprised Jade was even there. I overheard staff talking nearby. Caspian had three goals for this conference: First, to have the “mentally ill” ex-girlfriend make a clarifying statement. Second, to officially announce his relationship with Jade. Third, to announce that he and Jade would co-star in a new romantic comedy. In a daze, I saw a pale, confused face, lined with deep wrinkles, appear on the big screen. “Selena’s condition has worsened, and she regrettably can’t be here. This is Selena’s grandmother.” Caspian held Nana’s hand and brought the microphone to her lips. Nana looked at Caspian helplessly, her eyes clouded. It took her a long moment to speak, her voice trembling. “Selena… is… is sick. Can’t come. She… she and Caspian broke… broke up last year.” After choking out the few sentences, Nana immediately shrank back behind Caspian, as if the microphone were a monstrous threat. “She definitely looks unstable. That Selena must be…” “It’s a pity, a whole family of mental cases.” Hearing the reporters’ whispers, my nails dug into my palms. I wanted to rush in immediately. “Selena?” A low voice sounded near my ear. I turned my head and stared blankly at the well-dressed man in the light gray shirt. “I’m Dominic, the journalist you contacted earlier.” “I can get you inside.” I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand and nodded silently. The moment I entered the room, I froze. Caspian and Jade were kissing. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. The venue was silent, broken only by the continuous flashing of the cameras. In my sight, Jade’s eyes were lightly closed, her hand slowly moving to wrap around his waist. Caspian seemed to smile, cupping the back of her head, deepening the kiss. A sudden shriek broke the deathly silence. “You can’t kiss her!” I followed the sound, my breath catching in my throat. Nana stood in the corner, her hunched body now rigidly straight, her eyes bloodshot, looking as distraught as a child. “Selena is your girlfriend! You never broke up!” The room burst into chaos. Nana tried to stop them, but rushing forward, she tripped over a chair leg and fell hard to the floor. The sudden turn of events plunged the scene into an absolute frenzy. Someone called the police, someone called an ambulance, and the cameras kept flashing relentlessly. “Nana…” I rushed onto the ambulance. Staring at the unconscious Nana, my head felt like it had been hit with a hammer. All the blood in my body seemed to have turned to ice.
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