My boyfriend lived his life by one golden rule: He didn’t prioritize people by how much he loved them, but by how urgent their situation was. When my best friend Jasmine and I both caught a terrible fever, he drove her to the ER first simply because her temperature was 0.1 degrees higher than mine. When my mother finally reached the top of the transplant list after three agonizing years, he begged me to yield the directed kidney donation to Jasmine’s mother, arguing that her condition was far more critical. And then came tonight. Jasmine called me crying, saying she had a massive fight with her boyfriend and felt like her world was ending. I sat with her at a downtown bar, drinking until midnight, until my boyfriend finally lost his temper and issued an ultimatum for me to come home. Half an hour later, hurried footsteps echoed into our private booth. To avoid his scolding, I slumped against the leather sofa and pretended to be asleep. Caleb leaned over me, just like he did every time he caught me drinking too much. He helplessly stroked my hair. "Chloe?" I held my breath, staying completely still, but the corners of my lips twitched upward. I was plotting my move—the second he leaned down to scoop me into his arms, I was going to throw my arms around his neck and act shamelessly cute to get out of trouble. But the next second, his hand stopped. Before I could even process it, he turned and walked straight toward Jasmine. "How much did you drink? Why is your face so red?" Jasmine pushed him away, her words slurring. "Just one glass. Leave me alone. Go check on Chloe, she drank way more than me." He didn't let go. Instead, he leaned down and pulled her up from the sofa into his arms. "Still being stubborn? I just missed one of your calls this afternoon. Did you really have to throw a tantrum like this?" "I'll take you home first. Tomorrow, when Chloe wakes up, we'll just tell her you were way more wasted than she was. We'll brush it off." Curled up on the sofa, the alcohol in my system evaporated instantly. In that split second, I finally understood. I understood why Jasmine’s problems were always placed ahead of mine. And I finally knew who this mysterious boyfriend she constantly fought with really was. ... "I'm not leaving! You haven't even apologized!" Halfway to the door, Jasmine stopped, whining softly through her drunken haze. "Who told you to ignore my calls? I’m going to throw a fit, I don't care!" Caleb didn't say a word. He just reached out, gripped her waist, pinned her against the wall, and kissed her. "Alright, are you quite finished?" The sound of ragged breathing and wet, heavy kisses echoed through the dim room. I clenched my fists, my body rigidly frozen on the couch. I was nailed to the spot by a crushing, overwhelming sense of absurdity, using every ounce of my willpower to keep my eyes shut. Jasmine. Caleb. I had never, not even once, linked the two of them together. Even last month, when I saw the shocking hickey on her neck and noticed how unusually red Caleb's lips were, my mind hadn't gone there. After all, Caleb was always so reserved. In our six years together, he rarely even initiated a deep kiss, let alone left a mark. Over the years, the two of them barely interacted. I was their only bridge. Occasionally, Jasmine would come over for dinner. She would always sit glued to my side, politely nodding at him and calling him "Caleb." Caleb would quietly retreat to the kitchen to wash the dishes, tossing out a casual, "You girls catch up." Whenever Jasmine left, Caleb would always walk her down to the lobby with me, watching until her Uber pulled away before turning back. "Text when you get home." Back then, I used to tease him. I asked how a guy who was too lazy to go downstairs for his Amazon packages was suddenly so diligent about seeing guests out. But now, I understood. In the booth, they kissed with reckless abandon until they knocked over an empty beer bottle on the edge of the table. It rolled across the floor, clattering loudly toward me. Caleb instinctively pulled Jasmine tighter against his chest. Once she was steady, he turned his head and shot a glance at me on the sofa. I hurriedly squeezed my eyes shut in a panic. I didn't even dare to wonder—was he worried about me, or was he just checking to see if I had woken up? By the time I snapped out of my daze, they were gone. The heat in the booth was blasting, but draped over my shoulders was Caleb’s wool coat. He was always like this. Even if he rushed the girl with the 0.1-degree higher fever to the ER first, he would still order a courier to deliver medicine to my door. Even if he gave my mother’s kidney to Jasmine, he would spend a fortune booking a new specialist for my mom. I used to think that was his way of showing he cared. But now I realized... he just wanted to make sure I never felt like I was being shortchanged. I closed my eyes and let out a bitter laugh, feeling ridiculously slow. It was so obvious. How had I never seen it? I stayed there until dawn broke. When I finally walked out, my legs felt like lead, my face pale as a ghost. When I pushed open the door to our apartment, a lavish breakfast was already laid out. The two of them were sitting at opposite, diagonal corners of the dining table. The furthest possible distance apart. The spread was massive. For six years, Caleb had always made breakfast. He never let me lift a finger in the kitchen. But today’s meal was undeniably different from any morning in the past six years. Seeing me, Caleb breathed a visible sigh of relief. "Are you okay? It was an emergency last night. Jasmine was so much more intoxicated, so I just brought her back here first to be safe." Jasmine stood up, her face a mask of deep guilt. "It's all my fault. I was sulking over my own drama and forced you to drink with me. I'm so sorry, Chloe." I let her pull me toward the chair right next to Caleb's. The moment I sat down, I realized the seat cushion was still warm. I lowered my eyes. "Did you make up with your boyfriend?" She froze for a second, then let out a relieved laugh. "We did! He actually stood outside my apartment building in the freezing cold for two hours last night begging for forgiveness. I took pity on him and let it slide!" As she spoke, she shot a lightning-fast glance at Caleb. Caleb didn't look at her, but beneath the table, his foot gently nudged hers. I saw all of it. A suffocating wave of sorrow crashed over my heart. Jasmine sighed, leaning her head on my shoulder. "Chloe, do you think I'm too high-maintenance? I'm always losing my temper with him. Honestly, I'm terrified he'll just get sick of me one day. My attitude sucks, and I'm practically useless at everything..." I opened my mouth to speak, but Caleb—who never interrupted our girl-talk—suddenly chimed in. "You're not useless." He looked straight into Jasmine's eyes. His tone was so fiercely earnest, as if he was terrified she would actually believe her own insecurities. The room went dead silent for a second. Caleb seemed to realize what he had just done. He paused, clearing his throat. "I mean, I don't know you that well, but Chloe always tells me how amazing you are." Jasmine’s eyes curved into a sweet smile. She nudged my arm. "Really? What kind of things does Chloe say about me? Let's hear it." Caleb listed them off without missing a beat. "She says you're kind, generous, you're a brilliant painter, you make the best pour-over coffee, you have an incredible memory, and... you're really cute." I stared down at my lap, utterly paralyzed. A brilliant painter, makes the best coffee, an incredible memory... I had never said any of those things to Caleb. I just sat there, forced to watch Caleb use my name as a shield to confess his love to Jasmine. And as I sat there, I started noticing all the little details I had been too blind to see before. I noticed that while they sat far apart, they were perfectly angled to see each other whenever they looked up. I noticed that the majority of the meat dishes were clustered on Jasmine’s side of the table. I noticed that the cute cat-shaped ceramic mug Jasmine was drinking from was something I had never seen in our apartment before. Whenever she came over, an entire matching set of dishware would magically appear. And then I noticed. I didn't know how many times I had missed it, but right now, beneath the table, their legs were tightly intertwined. They were looking at each other from across the table, their gazes so intensely locked that there wasn't an inch of room for me to exist. My eyes suddenly burned. "Chloe?" Caleb looked at me, suppressing the anxiety in his voice, his eyes flashing with guilt. "What's wrong? Do you feel sick?" I didn't answer. I pushed away the slice of cinnamon pecan bread—Jasmine’s favorite—stood up, and walked out. I hailed a cab and went straight to my office. I handed in my resignation letter and started packing my desk. My coworker poked her head over the cubicle. "Chloe, what are you doing?" "I quit." I tossed the framed photo of Caleb and me into the trash. "I need a change of scenery. I'm going to travel abroad for a bit." She blinked in shock. "By yourself? What about Caleb? Let me guess, another 'emergency'?" I forced a tight smile and didn't answer. In the past, I had brought it up countless times. The Charles Bridge in Prague, the Northern Lights in Norway, the black sand beaches in Iceland. But every single time, Caleb had something more urgent to do. "I can't, my sister is moving, I have to help." "I promised the guys we'd shoot hoops this weekend, let's do it next year." In Caleb's world, even a last-minute pickup basketball game took priority over me. Well, now, I was going alone. My coworker swiped through her phone and muttered, "Some people just get all the luck. How does Jasmine from the design department have such a perfect life? Her boyfriend took her to Iceland to see the auroras last year, Prague last month, and I just saw a post of her kayaking in Norway last week! Chloe, you need a man like that." My hand froze. Every single place she just listed were the exact destinations I had endlessly begged Caleb to take me to. I instinctively pulled up Jasmine's Instagram. Her latest post visible to me was from two years ago. But my coworker just said she saw a post last week. "Which post did you see?" My voice was tight. My coworker turned her screen toward me. Jasmine was flashing a peace sign by a breathtaking Norwegian fjord. The caption read: With the right person, anywhere is paradise. Location: Norway. I swiped through the carousel. By the seventh photo, my breathing completely stopped. Reflected in the window of a train was the silhouette of a man holding a camera. It only showed half of his shoulder. But that coat—I was the one who picked it out for Caleb's birthday. A tidal wave of memories crashed into me. New Year's Eve last year. Both of them claimed their companies had mandatory late-night galas. I counted down to midnight alone in my living room. Valentine's Day last month. Both of them said they were slammed with project deadlines. I ate the romantic dinner I booked all by myself. My birthday last week. Caleb, who never travels for work, suddenly announced a business trip to Norway. Jasmine coincidentally took her paid vacation time the exact same week. Piece by piece. Everything fit perfectly. The truth poured over me like ice water, freezing me to the bone, turning my fingertips numb. Ding. A new photo popped up on Jasmine's story on my coworker's phone. It was outside the upscale Italian restaurant we always went to. A massive floral archway had been erected by the entrance, draped with a banner: [Happy 520 Days of Love, Caleb & Jasmine.] I went completely still. Today was my six-year anniversary with Caleb. We had agreed that today was the day we would finally go look at wedding dresses. But just yesterday, Caleb had sat me down and said: "Chloe, let's hold off on the wedding dresses for a bit." I looked at him. "Why?" He didn't even blink. "Tomorrow is the anniversary of Jasmine's mother's passing. It's just not appropriate for us to be celebrating something so happy right now. Let's do it next time." I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning white. "It's fine, Jasmine won't mind. Plus, we've pushed this back four times already, if we wait any longer..." He cut me off, his tone chillingly detached. "Just because she says she doesn't mind, does that mean we pretend we don't know she's grieving? My conscience won't allow it." "In your heart, is a piece of fabric more important than Jasmine's feelings? She's your best friend." But you are my boyfriend. I never said those words out loud. Without another thought, I rushed downstairs and hailed a taxi. When I arrived, I stood on the sidewalk. Across the busy street, I watched the two of them wrapped in a tight embrace. I watched the floral wall wrapped in white tulle and fresh jasmine flowers, the ribbons dancing in the wind. I watched all of Caleb's friends—people I had never even met—laughing and handing Jasmine congratulatory envelopes. I watched Jasmine, her eyes red, bury her face in Caleb's chest and whisper softly: "Mom, can you see me? Someone is finally taking care of me." It was all so beautifully cinematic. If only they weren't my best friend and my boyfriend. Late that night, Caleb stumbled through the front door reeking of alcohol. He collapsed onto the couch. "Jas... don't cry..." "From now on... I've got you." I sat in the dark living room, listening in complete silence. Listening to my boyfriend, blackout drunk, making lifelong promises to another woman in his dreams. The next morning, I woke up early. When I opened my bedroom door, Caleb was walking out of the kitchen holding a steaming bowl of oatmeal. Seeing me, he paused in his tracks and asked casually: "I drank way too much last night. I didn't say anything stupid, did I?" Noticing my gaze on the bowl in his hands, he quickly covered his tracks. "My stomach is killing me, so I ordered myself some oatmeal." I gave a faint "No." I pretended I didn't hear the hum of the kitchen exhaust fan. I didn't point out that he was deathly allergic to pecans, meaning there was absolutely no way he bought that blueberry pecan oatmeal for himself. I also didn't ask why, if he was going to eat it himself, he had packed it neatly into a pink insulated thermos. I looked away, grabbed the suitcase I had packed the night before, and walked out the door. After my mother passed away, her art studio had remained locked. Many of her original oil paintings were still inside, and I wanted to donate them all to the National Art Gallery. Carrying a heavy cardboard box full of canvases and sketches, I stood on the curb trying to hail an Uber. Suddenly, the screech of an engine tore through the air. Before I could dodge, I was clipped hard and sent tumbling to the pavement. The box flew out of my arms. Ignoring the burning pain shooting up my leg, I scrambled desperately toward the scattered papers. But it was too late. The muddy water from the gutter had already soaked through them. I fell to my knees, my blood running cold. Forty years. My mother's entire life's work, completely destroyed on my watch. The car door flew open, and Jasmine rushed out, her face deathly pale. "Chloe?! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" She grabbed my arm, tears streaming down her face. "I was taking a sip of my oatmeal, I got distracted, I didn't look..." I looked past her at the driver's seat of her car. Spilled all over the dashboard was blueberry pecan oatmeal. The thermos was the exact same pink one Caleb had been holding this morning. I shoved her off me and pulled out my phone to dial 911. Jasmine panicked and grabbed my hand. "Chloe, please don't call the cops! I... I can't afford to pay for this." When my mother was alive, she was one of the most renowned contemporary artists in the country. A single painting could sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars. She was right. She could never afford to replace them. But that wasn't a valid excuse. Seeing that I was determined to dial, she suddenly dropped to her knees on the concrete and started violently banging her head against the ground. "It's my fault! It's all my fault!" Blood mixed with the dirt, turning her forehead into a horrific, blurry mess. When Caleb finally arrived, he saw the soaked masterpieces on the ground and my scraped, bleeding leg. His eyes immediately went bloodshot. "Who did this?!" Looking at him, I was reminded of how, in the past, whenever something went wrong, he would instinctively stand by my side. My nose stung. Before I could even open my mouth... Jasmine, still kneeling on the ground, tilted her tear-stained face upward and sobbed: "Caleb..." Caleb froze. The second he saw her bleeding forehead, he dropped to a crouch, pressing his thumb gently against her wound to stop the bleeding. "What happened?" Jasmine looked at him, weeping hysterically. "I really didn't mean to... Please beg Chloe for me, I really can't afford to pay her back..." A police officer walked over, asking if I was the one who reported the accident. Caleb helped Jasmine to her feet, his voice lacking even a single shred of hesitation. "No, officer. It was a misdial." My head snapped up. "Caleb, this is my mother's life's work." "She died because of you." If he hadn't forced me to give up my mother's kidney match to Jasmine, my mom could have lived at least another three years. Caleb’s arm around Jasmine stiffened. But when he met the tear rolling down Jasmine’s cheek, whatever flicker of guilt he had vanished instantly. "It's just a few paintings. I'll pay you back for them." "You can't afford it." "Then what do you want?" His voice turned icy. "Chloe, Jasmine is a living, breathing human being. Is she really worth less to you than some ruined canvas?" Some ruined canvas. Hearing those words, I stood frozen for a very long time. I thought I would be screaming, ripping my hair out in agony. But in the end, all I did was slowly bend down, picking up the soaked, ruined pages from the mud, folding them one by one. My heart felt like it had been pulverized into dust and stuffed back into my chest. The pain had peaked, leaving behind nothing but dead silence. I kept my eyes down. My voice was so quiet it carried no emotion at all. "Caleb, why are you always protecting her?" Jasmine's eyes immediately went red. "Chloe, I swear I didn't do it on purpose." "But I really can't afford this. I'm finally up for Senior Art Director at my agency. If this goes on a police record, my career is completely over!" "Plus... your mom used to always say we should be kind and forgiving. She was such a gentle soul, she would definitely forgive me." "Do not talk about my mother!" Jasmine and I grew up together. Her parents divorced early and abandoned her. My mom felt terrible for her, always inviting her over for dinner, even setting up a spare bedroom just for her. When Jasmine got her first period, my mom was the one who taught her what to do. My mom was the one who went to her parent-teacher conferences. The day we both got accepted into art school, Jasmine hugged my mom and bawled, promising she would honor her like her own mother forever. And now that she was finally successful, her repayment was indirectly killing my mother, and stealing my man. Caleb walked over and patted my head. "Chloe, I'm not protecting her." "It's just common sense. A few lifeless paintings aren't more important than a human being's future. Especially since you and Jas are such good friends." It was always like this. In his mind, there was a strict hierarchy of priorities. And it seemed that whenever Jasmine was involved, my grievances, my sacrifices, and my pain were automatically voided. "And what if I say no?" Caleb stared at me for a few seconds. Then, he pulled a bank card out of his wallet. "Whatever Jasmine owes you, I'll pay it for her." My brain buzzed, my vision going black at the edges. When we decided to build a life together, I gave Caleb my debit card to manage our savings. I wanted to show him that everything I had was his to share. I never imagined that one day, it would become the blade he used to stab me. "That is my money." "Exactly, which means the decision is yours." Caleb shoved the card into Jasmine's trembling hands. "As long as you drop the charges, I will return every cent of this money to you. The dream wedding you wanted? I can give that to you too." "Don't forget, the inheritance your mother left you is also on this card." Jasmine frantically tried to shove it back. "Caleb, are you crazy?! That's Chloe's inheritance from her mom, I can't take this!" "Besides, we don't even know the PIN! What's the point of giving this to me?!" She threw herself at my feet, crying so hard she was gasping for air. "I'll go to your mom's grave and kowtow to apologize, okay?!" "Please just let this go! You know how hard my childhood was, I can't afford to lose my job!" Caleb looked at me, his gaze incredibly distant. "Chloe, take a guess. Do you think I know the PIN?" Of course he knew. Because every single one of my passwords was our anniversary date plus his birthday. He stood in front of Jasmine, his back ramrod straight. Once upon a time, those arms held me, protected me, shielded me from the biting winter wind. Now, they were forming an impenetrable wall between me and Jasmine. I looked at him, the tears finally shattering against the pavement. I opened my mouth, my voice so raspy it was barely a whisper. "Caleb, I'm only going to ask you one question. If you answer it, I'll let her go. Okay?" Caleb hesitated, then nodded. I spoke, every single word feeling like I was physically ripping myself apart. "If it was me who destroyed her mother's belongings today... would you have treated me the same way?" We had known each other too long. The second the words left my mouth, he knew exactly what I was actually asking. Caleb didn't say a word. I asked again. "That year... was her mother's condition actually worse than my mom's?" He remained silent for even longer. And that silence was infinitely more brutal than any cruel word he could have spoken. After a long time, he finally spoke, the whites of his eyes webbed with red veins. "Chloe, they're gone. These hypotheticals have no meaning." I let out a soft laugh, wiped the tears from my eyes, and nodded. "Okay." I pulled the engagement ring off my left hand and tossed it at Caleb's feet, my heart turning to pure ash. "I won't press charges." Caleb's face darkened, as if he suddenly realized what was happening. "Chloe, what is the meaning of this?" I turned on my heel and walked away, never looking back. Because just last night, while Caleb was drunkenly chanting Jasmine's name over and over again... I had finally noticed that the inside of this engagement ring I had worn for two years... Wasn't engraved with a rose. It was engraved with a jasmine blossom. Jasmine's flower. "Where are you going?!" Caleb finally noticed the suitcase by my side. His voice cracked with genuine panic. "A work trip." "For how long?!" I didn't answer. Caleb's brow furrowed deeper and deeper. But when Jasmine let out a soft, pained whimper behind him, he turned around and walked back toward her. Just like every other time. As long as Jasmine appeared more fragile than me, I would always be the one left behind. But this time, I wasn't going to wait for him anymore.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "574808", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel