After the party ended, Tristan kissed me, riding the high of his buzz. I thought my years of secret, unrequited love had finally seen the light of day. But just two days later, he went Instagram official with his new girlfriend. It was a backlit photo of them kissing, captioned: "Plotted for a long time, finally got what I wished for." 1 I gathered my courage and called him. "Did it have to be Chloe?" "Do I need to report to you who I'm dating?" His lazy drawl came through the receiver, so familiar yet suddenly acting like a total stranger. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat, let out a long breath, and asked, "If it's her, then what am I?" And what was that kiss? There was a long silence on the other end. After a pause, he let out a cold scoff. "Think whatever you want." The dead dial tone pierced my eardrums, and a wave of absolute exhaustion swept through my bones. It was a very strange feeling. It was like the little boat you relied on to survive suddenly sprang a leak. You watch the hole slowly widen, the water seeping in inch by inch, yet you stubbornly fantasize that you can still patch it up. It isn't until the water entirely swallows the hull that you suddenly realize: some things don't yield good results just because you try hard enough. I took a deep breath and went to the bathroom to wash my face. When I came back, Tristan was calling me again. "Clara, bring a box of pads over. It's not really convenient for me to go buy them right now." My heart violently sank. Did he really... think I would never leave him? 2 My family runs a convenience store, located right next door to his house. For certain things, it really was convenient. But it was exactly this convenience that gave him the opportunity to stab me in the heart, over and over again. "Here." My face was flushed red as I angrily threw the box of pads into his chest. But the moment I turned around, he grabbed the hood of my sweatshirt. "What, you're mad?" He knew exactly why I was mad. I swatted his hand away, gritting my teeth. "Next time you bring someone home, you don't need to notify me." He didn't take it seriously at all. In fact, he looked incredibly satisfied with my visible discomfort, as if seeing me suffer brought him immense joy. I was so furious I turned to leave. But Tristan was tall with a long reach. With a casual stretch of his arm, he grabbed my hood again and pulled me right back. "You're a grown adult, how can you be this bad at basic things?" He tossed the box onto the entryway console and slowly, meticulously helped fix my flipped-out hood. He was standing entirely too close. His hot breath brushed against my face, instantly making my heart pound like a drum. He was always like this. A slap in the face, followed by a piece of candy. "Tristan, did you see my earrings?" Right as he was fixing my hood, a girl's whiny voice echoed from behind him. The moment I saw her, I involuntarily took a step back. It was Chloe. This was the girl who had thrown dirty water on me, called me an ugly freak, and framed me for stealing money. The two of them whispered something to each other, making me, the girl standing in the doorway, look like an absolute pathetic third wheel. My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms. Watching them link arms, preparing to shut the door in my face, I suddenly found a surge of reckless courage and yelled at Tristan's back. "I don't want to like you anymore." His footsteps halted, and the hand resting on Chloe's waist visibly twitched. He froze for a few seconds before softly telling her, "Go back inside first." Chloe shot me a look of pure disdain, didn't say a word, and obediently went back in. That look was so triumphant, written with absolute mockery and contempt for me. But I didn't actually care about her. Because for all these years, the only person who could truly hurt me was Tristan. He slowly turned around, his brow furrowed, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it. "You're cutting me off again?" He said it so casually, entirely convinced that my bark was worse than my bite. I bit my lip hard, wanting to say something vicious, but realized I was exactly as pathetic as he thought I was. I couldn't force those words out of my mouth a second time. Eventually, Tristan grew impatient. He tossed the cigarette butt on the ground and scoffed, arrogantly delivering his final verdict. "Fine, Clara. You better keep your word. Whoever reaches out first is a pathetic loser." Psycho. Throwing out ultimatums like a middle schooler. But I have to admit, I was just as stubborn as he was. I stood there for a long time, my hand hovering over his doorbell, hesitating again and again, but ultimately, I never pressed it. "Fine. This time, I'll keep my word." 3 In my memory, this wasn't our first fight. But compared to the countless frictions of our past, the ending this time was eerily quiet. If this were the past, I would have tossed and turned in the dead of night, listened to his favorite Spotify playlist, analyzed his Instagram stories, and meticulously drafted a massive apology paragraph, waiting for him to mercifully forgive my impulsiveness. But this time, I blocked Tristan's number and went a full month without contacting him. It felt just like the time he got into that car crash; I felt like a layer of my skin had been peeled off. Back then, the doctors made it sound incredibly serious. I thought Tristan was never going to wake up. I was a walking zombie—I even almost burned down the kitchen trying to make fried rice. When my mom came home and saw me curled up in the corner of the kitchen, she smacked my arm in frustration, then pulled me into a heartbroken hug. "If you lose him, are you just going to stop living?" I buried my face in my mom's chest and didn't say a word. My mom started crying too. "Our family owes him, but your dad and I can pay it back. My daughter is not allowed to throw her life away on someone who doesn't love her back." I nodded at the time, but the second she turned her back, I secretly ran straight to the hospital. Because I owed Tristan. Years ago, during the devastating earthquake that hit our hometown, I was over at his house playing. His mom and I ended up trapped under a collapsed concrete slab. When the rescue teams arrived, Mrs. Sterling insisted they pull me out first. But by the time I woke up in the hospital, she had passed away in the emergency room. I watched Tristan cry until he passed out in front of her grave, and I silently swore to myself that I would live the rest of my life for him. Originally, Tristan used to follow me around everywhere, but after that day, our dynamic completely flipped. I chased after him every single day, happily swallowing whatever bullying or teasing he threw my way. Later, when we got to high school, because of the prominent scar on the center of my forehead and the fact that I only ever hung around Tristan, I became the target of isolation for the entire class. And Chloe was the one who hated me the most. But she was undeniably gorgeous—so gorgeous that Tristan fell for her at first sight. Back then, Tristan was in the AP sciences and I was in the humanities. Our classrooms were on opposite sides of the building, so he made me deliver breakfast to Chloe for him. Every single morning, aside from enduring the bitter heartbreak of playing his wingman, I also had to endure Chloe's public humiliation. Even though they broke up shortly after, from that point on, Tristan figured out the exact right way to torture me. I watched him cycle through new girlfriends one after another, resigning myself to the fact that this was all we would ever be. Until the beginning of this year, when he got into that car accident. I stayed by his hospital bed day and night for over a month. I thought our relationship was finally shifting into something real, but then Chloe reappeared. She snatched Tristan away again, delivering a brutal blow right to my head. 4 Probably because I had been a depressed zombie for too long, my best friend Maya couldn't stand it anymore. One morning, she kicked my door in, dragged me into the bathroom to shower and do my makeup, and announced she was taking me out to find a man. "Clara, did Tristan put a hex on you?! I just don't get it. Finding a three-legged toad is hard, but finding a two-legged man is the easiest thing in the world!" I forced a painfully awkward smile, having absolutely no intention of explaining my long, agonizing history with him. "Clara, are you even listening to me?" "I'm listening," I mumbled vaguely, though I hadn't absorbed a single word. Maya saw right through my fake enthusiasm, rolled her eyes, and shoved me out the door. Like a puppet on strings, I let her drag me through the mall for hours. Three hours later, as I was using the ultra-spicy Korean BBQ as an excuse to let my tears and snot flow freely, Maya suddenly clutched her stomach, claiming she had cramps. I literally couldn't spare my mouth to speak, so I just waved her away, gesturing for her to hurry back. But just as I refocused my attention on the grilling meat, a massive shadow fell over the table. I looked up. A breathtakingly handsome guy, easily 6'2", slid into the booth right across from me. "This seat is taken," I warned him. The handsome guy cleared his throat, showing absolutely zero self-awareness to leave. "Hi, Clara. I'm the... uh..." He didn't seem very familiar with his own script. He glanced down at a cheat sheet in his hand before remembering. "The boyfriend-for-hire your best friend booked. I'm Ethan." My eyes practically bulged out of my head. I hastily swallowed my food, grabbed Ethan's phone, and stared at the booking page with tears streaming down my face from the spicy food. "So your username is... Thunderous Invincible Underpants?" Could he actually survive in the companion-for-hire industry with a name like that? His mouth twitched. He clearly wasn't thrilled about the name either, but he gritted his teeth and nodded. My phone dinged twice. I lit up the screen, and a custom meme from Maya popped up. "Enjoy the boy toy, stay safe. Ps: You're welcome." Stay safe?! Is that something you actually say out loud?! Sitting right in front of this incredibly handsome guy, a literal snot bubble blew out of my nose in sheer frustration. Ethan considerately slid a napkin across the table. But before I could even try to explain that this was a massive misunderstanding, he accurately guessed what I was about to say. He leaned his forearms on the table, a smirk tugging at his lips, and stared at me with wide, innocent puppy-dog eyes. "I'm just a small business owner, Clara. No refunds." As he spoke, he tapped the screen, pointing to the massive non-refundable deposit Maya had paid. Holy crap, two thousand dollars? Did Maya sell a kidney?! "Fine." After staring at it forever, I helplessly pulled out my phone. "What's your server rank?" I assumed "boyfriend-for-hire" just meant a gaming buddy to carry me in matches. Since the money was already gone, I figured I might as well get some gaming out of it. Instead, Ethan pulled out a set of car keys. "Come on, we don't play cheap games like that." Two minutes later, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the restaurant doors. He opened the passenger door, resting one hand on the roof, and tilted his head at me. "Get in." Before I could even formulate a rejection, I was smoothly bundled into the passenger seat. By the time I regained my senses, Ethan was already in the driver's seat, leaning halfway across my body to buckle my seatbelt for me. He was so close. The warm glow of the streetlights washed over his face, and I could even see the slight flutter of his eyelashes. I instinctively shrank back. "I can do it myself..." He didn't even look up. He slowly and deliberately clicked the belt into place, as if what he was doing was the most natural thing in the world. "If you can do everything yourself, what do you need me for?" My heart involuntarily seized with pain. A long time ago, Tristan had said those exact same words to me. One second he had been flirting with Chloe, but the moment he saw me twist my ankle, he aggressively insisted on taking me home. I tactfully told him I could walk myself. Annoyed by my rejection, he forcefully shoved me onto the back of his bicycle. "Clara, if you can do everything yourself, what do you need me for?" When those words left his mouth back then, both of us froze. We didn't speak another word the entire way home. His erratic hot-and-cold behavior constantly made it impossible for me to tell the difference between his genuine care and his toxic games. To the point where, for fifteen years, stepping forward led to heartbreak, and stepping back left me suffocating with regret. 5 Boom. A brilliant firework exploded against the horizon. Without me even noticing, Ethan had driven us all the way to the Santa Monica Pier. Massive blooms of fireworks lit up the night sky, absolutely breathtaking. But when the sky faded back to dark, an inevitable wave of emptiness washed over me. Ethan must have noticed. Leaning against the pier railing, he broke my train of thought. "Clara, want to hold onto a firework?" I was surprised, not even realizing he had dropped the formalities and just called me by my name. "Hold onto a firework?" He nodded, his sharp jawline dipping in and out of the shadows as the next round of fireworks illuminated the sky. "How do I do that?" I asked. He gave a mysterious smile, took a step closer, and a clean, crisp cologne washed over me. It was subtle, and surprisingly, I didn't hate it. Then I watched as he pulled a sparkler right from behind my ear like a magic trick. I burst out laughing. "Your agency... I mean, your company trains you guys pretty well." He scratched his nose, grinning with a touch of smug arrogance. "I'll just take that as a compliment." I took the sparkler and looked up at him. "Thank you. Honestly, I was having a really miserable day today..." Before I could finish my sentence, the two exact culprits responsible for my miserable day suddenly walked into my line of sight. They spotted me almost instantly. Chloe waved enthusiastically. "Clara! Is that your boyfriend?" Chloe dragged Tristan over by the hand. But in sharp contrast to her glowing smile, Tristan's face looked absolutely murderous. He shot Ethan a cold, piercing glare, then snapped his head toward me. "What are you doing wandering around so late with some sketchy guy?" The unlit sparkler froze stiffly in my hand. I had actually told Tristan countless times that I wanted to come to the pier to watch the fireworks. But year after year, I came alone, and I went home alone. He was truly a master at dealing out disappointment. Faced with his hostile interrogation, my expression went ice cold. "The sketchiest guy I've ever known is you." He choked on his words, his brows knitting together, ready to lecture me. Even though he was technically two months younger than me, around him, I always felt like a subservient child. "Come back with me." He reached out, trying to grab my arm. I instinctively recoiled from his touch. But the very next second, a heavy warmth draped over my shoulders. Ethan had wrapped his jacket around me and pulled me directly into his chest. The ocean breeze whipped his jacket around us. In the freezing tension, Ethan gave a rogue, insolent smirk. "A guy's girlfriend should be taken home by her own guy, right, senior?" And then I watched as Tristan's face turned completely black. 6 Ethan kept his arm around me and walked me straight toward that aggressively flashy Maybach. Just as I buckled my seatbelt, Chloe came jogging up to the car. Wearing a polite, flawlessly sweet smile, she leaned down against the passenger window. Her low-cut top offered a very deliberate, peek-a-boo view of her cleavage. "Hey handsome, I saw you bought sparklers. Could I get one?" I don't know exactly when it started, but Chloe developed a sick obsession with stealing things from me—and she succeeded nine times out of ten. I instinctively clenched my fists, terrified that Ethan was about to become her newest trophy. But this time, I was dead wrong. "No." "Excuse me?" She clearly had never experienced the concept of being rejected by a man before, her mouth falling open in exaggerated, soap-opera shock. I looked up just in time to see Ethan slam the car door shut, brutally mocking her. "What, you don't have a man to buy them for you?" Without another word, he slammed on the gas, peeling out and splashing mud all over Chloe's designer shoes. It was petty, but God, was it satisfying. On the drive back, I tried to fill the silence. "You called him senior back there. You know Tristan?" He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. His face didn't show much emotion, but there was a distinct, simmering hostility underneath. "Yeah. He tore up a love letter of mine once." That was when I learned that the three of us all went to the same high school. Except Ethan was two years below me. He was currently a junior in college. Thinking back to what an absolute, arrogant terror Tristan was in high school... Yeah, it made sense that he made enemies. I tried to offer a few comforting words, and before I knew it, we were parked outside my apartment. "Don't worry, I'll definitely make sure Maya leaves you a five-star review." He looked a little speechless but smiled, thanked me, and walked me up to my door. But the moment I walked inside, my phone buzzed. It was a friend request from Tristan. "Who is that guy?" I didn't reply. A few minutes later, he sent another text. "Are you done throwing this tantrum?" Ah. So a month of agonizing heartbreak was, in his eyes, just me throwing a little tantrum. My chest ached. I typed back: "You said it yourself. Whoever reaches out first is a pathetic loser." There was no reply after that. I waited a few minutes, then set my phone down with a massive sigh of relief. It felt like... rejecting him wasn't actually that hard after all. 7 After graduating college, I got a job as an editor for a web novel publisher. The office was pretty far from my house, and I didn't want to waste my life commuting, so I told my parents I wanted to rent an apartment near work. They assumed I just wanted to avoid bumping into Tristan every day, so they enthusiastically agreed. My dad even slipped me an extra five hundred dollars, telling me he'd rather I rent a slightly more expensive place in a safer neighborhood. So after the holidays, I moved to a complex on the south side of the city. Maya originally promised to help me move, but she got stuck working mandatory overtime, so she sent Ethan instead. "I saw you had a ton of boxes, and I still have two hours left on that boyfriend-for-hire voucher. Might as well use it, right?" I laughed, thinking about how unbelievably unlucky the guy was to get booked for manual labor. But Ethan didn't show a single ounce of impatience. Weekend traffic was terrible. He told me to wait inside and that he'd be there soon. I felt bad making him do all the work, so I decided to start hauling boxes down to the sidewalk myself. Just as I carried the third box out, Tristan walked up the street. "Where are you going?" I can't perfectly describe the feeling. I admit that seeing him again still caused a tiny ripple in my deadened heart, but that fearless courage to walk through fire for him? It was completely, permanently gone. Honestly... he was just kind of annoying now. "Moving," I answered dismissively. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his brow furrowing. I didn't want to engage, so I just kept my head down and adjusted the box. Seeing me ignore him, Tristan's garbage temper flared up again. He slammed his hand down on the box I was trying to lift, striking a pose that clearly said he wasn't moving until I answered him. My anger instantly flared. "Tristan, do you need something?" His voice rose to match mine. "I can't talk to you unless I need something?!" "Right!" He froze. I froze too. I let out a long breath, smoothing out my tangled emotions. "If you don't need anything, stop coming to find me. If you do need something... go find Chloe. You only ever believe her anyway, right?" I screamed at him, and he looked genuinely stunned. His voice actually sounded a little wounded. "When have I ever not believed you?" When did you ever? During our senior year of high school, the class funds went missing. While the teacher was rushing to check the security cameras, Chloe publicly started a rumor that I stole the money. Her reasoning? I was the poorest kid in class, and two days prior, my mom had knitted me a brand-new scarf. She insisted the scarf was bought with stolen money. Even though the teacher told everyone not to accuse anyone before the footage was reviewed, Chloe and her little minions locked me in a storage closet, demanding I hand over the $78 class fund. I still remember the exact moment Tristan kicked the storage room door open and hurled a basketball at one of the girls. My heart swelled with desperate hope, waiting for him to defend me. But the words that actually left his mouth were: "How much did she take? I'll pay it back for her." See? It only took $78 to completely shatter a girl's dignity. Tristan had never, not for a single second, truly believed in me. In that exact moment, I dropped all my expectations of him and learned that the only person you can ever rely on is yourself. That was also the very first time I told Tristan I didn't want to like him anymore. I yanked the final cardboard box out from under his hand. "Go home. I can move my own things." My icy attitude made Tristan's face sink further and further. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but was interrupted by a sudden voice. "Looks lively over here. Need a hand, beautiful?" 8 Honestly, when the car pulled up to my new apartment complex, I was still a little dazed. When Ethan arrived earlier, he instantly stepped right between me and Tristan, looking less like a guy hired to help me move and more like a guy ready to throw a punch for me. But before I could dwell on it, a more pressing question popped into my head. "Does moving furniture cost extra?" I remembered that physical labor wasn't listed on their company's service menu. Maya was loaded, but as a junior editor, two thousand dollars was my entire month's rent. Ethan laughed, unbuckled his seatbelt, crossed his arms playfully, and sized me up. "Of course it does. You weren't planning on getting my services for free, were you?" My heart skipped a beat. "H... how much?" I swear, if it was over five hundred dollars, I was abandoning the car and fleeing on foot. He stared right at me, his eyes practically drowning me in warm, liquid amber. He stared so intensely I actually got scared. He leaned closer and closer, and right when I thought he was going to kiss me, he looked down and laughed, flashing two faint dimples. "Look how scared you are. Just buy me lunch, okay? I've been starving all morning." I paused, then eagerly agreed. So after moving the boxes, we went to a trendy Korean BBQ spot. I have to admit, being young is great. Not only did we use his student discount, but we turned heads the entire time. Of course, it was mostly because Ethan was ridiculously handsome, which meant I caught the crossfire of all that attention. Someone inevitably started whispering about my face. "Look at that girl. She has a massive scar on her head. Why doesn't she just get plastic surgery?" "Who knows, probably can't afford it. But that guy is so hot, why would he ever go for an ugly freak like her?" The needle-sharp insults made my stomach drop. I reached for my head—crap, I forgot to wear a hat today. After the accident, my dad considered getting me reconstructive surgery. But my mom was running the little store by herself, money was tight, and my dad's injured leg required expensive physical therapy. I felt too guilty burdening them, so I just kept putting the surgery off. I frantically tried to pull my bangs down to cover it. Right at that moment, Ethan suddenly leaned across the table. His long, elegant fingers gently tapped my forehead, stopping my panicked movements. "Please, scars are incredibly cool. You have to be so lucky to grow little wings right on your forehead." A gruesome, jagged scar, yet he described it with such beautiful, romantic poetry. He tucked the loose strands of hair behind my ear, handling me as gently as if I were a priceless, fragile treasure. This was the very first time in my life someone told me I didn't need to hide my ugly scar. The girls at the next table were still whispering and giggling. Ethan stood up straight, his brows instantly knitting together in fury. He walked over, leaned both hands heavily on their table, and stared dead into the eyes of the loudest girl. Her face instantly flushed bright red. "Are... are you looking for me?" He flashed a vicious grin, and under her awestruck gaze, he slowly spoke: "Yeah. Just coming over to hear the garbage you're talking." The girl froze. I froze too. Her friend panicked, glaring at Ethan and snapping, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything! You might be handsome, but your mouth is absolutely toxic!" Ethan laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, so you do understand that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover." "Why is it okay for you to talk trash behind someone's back, but it's not okay for me to insult you to your face?" The girl choked, but immediately shot back: "Even if we were wrong, you're a guy! How can you be so classless and verbally attack women like that?" Ethan let out a cold scoff. "Sorry, I only reserve my manners for people I actually like." As he said it, he turned his head and looked right at me, before turning back to the girl: "As for you, take a good look in the mirror and ask yourself if you even deserve basic respect." By this point, several waiters had rushed over. I didn't want to make a huge scene, so I tugged gently on Ethan's sleeve. "Let it go. I'm used to it." Ethan wanted to say more, but sensing my plea, he swept a final, glacial glare over the two women, then tenderly ruffled my hair. "No one has the right to define a person by their appearance, and no one has the right to use appearance as a weapon to hurt others. Clara, I know exactly how incredible you are. Do not waste a single second feeling sad over trash like them." I listened in a daze. A rush of heat flooded my chest, followed by an inexplicable wave of sorrow. Because I suddenly realized that Tristan had never, ever said anything like that to me. Even though every time he saw someone mocking my scar, he would aggressively chase them away, afterward, he would only ever look at me coldly and say: "Clara, pull your hat down." He and Tristan were so completely, fundamentally different. A few minutes later, the manager's apologies pulled me back to reality. They moved us to a private booth and gave us a free plate of prime rib as an apology, so I didn't push the issue. After we ate, he walked me home. We strolled side-by-side down the sidewalk. He linked his hands behind his head and gave a massive stretch. As he moved, his black hoodie rode up, revealing a flash of toned abs. I happened to catch a glimpse, and my face instantly caught fire. Ethan noticed my sudden awkwardness, took a quick step forward, and blocked my path. "What's wrong, beautiful?" A teasing half-smile played on his lips. He absolutely knew I saw. I cleared my throat, quickly changing the subject to thank him for lunch. But I forgot that if you give this guy an inch, he takes a mile. "If you really want to thank me, go on a date with me next time." "A date?" "There's a new amusement park opening up. My little brother won three VIP tickets and is forcing me to go. I refuse to be the third wheel to him and his girlfriend, so I need to find someone to come with me." He leaned down, biting his lip, putting on his best pathetic, abused-puppy act. "Clara, being a single dog abandoned by a gross, overly-affectionate couple is incredibly depressing. Have mercy on me." I wanted to point out that he could just not go, but staring into his dazzling, star-filled eyes, I couldn't find a single reason to say no.
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