Julian Ford was a masterpiece. I figured if I was going to have a first love, it might as well be him. Even if we broke up, there would be no regrets. So I went after him. Hard. He was caught off guard by my pursuit, then intrigued, and finally, he gave in, but not without laying out the terms: we could date, but we would not get married. The moment we graduated, we were over. I agreed instantly. For three years, we lived out a picture-perfect romance. And on graduation day, just as planned, I was the one to bring up the breakup. That’s when he backed out. I was floored. "But we had a deal, right? We break up when we graduate!" I remember how that day ended. Our conversation had completely fallen apart. Julian, who always held his head so high, lowered it and laughed, a bitter, self-mocking sound. "Summer Hayes," he said, "you better pray we never cross paths again." From that day on, I made a point to avoid him. But sometimes, God flicks a finger, the world shrinks, and two people are bound to meet again. 1 Julian and I operated under a silent, unspoken rule. We were a campus couple, and that’s all we were. Once we stepped off university grounds for holidays or breaks, we went back to our separate lives and ceased all contact. In those times apart, he was Julian Ford, scion of a powerhouse New York family, and I was just Summer Hayes, a nobody from Charlotte, North Carolina. No texts, no calls, no questions about what the other was doing. It was as if we were single again. I assumed this strange, compartmentalized relationship would last until our pre-planned breakup. But the summer after sophomore year was unusually long—a full eighty days. Before we left campus, Julian asked me, "Are you going to miss me?" I wrapped my arms around him, playing the part. "Mmmhmm, I’ll miss you like crazy." He pulled me into a hug and kissed the top of my head, but he was smart enough not to say something foolish like, "Then call me if you miss me." I’d always admired that rationality in him. His family was in a different stratosphere. His future wife would be chosen from a similar world. We both knew we had no future. This was just a phase, a chance to experience a pure, insulated college romance, and I just happened to be his type. On campus, Julian was my boyfriend. Off campus, when he was a Ford heir, he didn't want me intruding on his life. I understood, and I played my part perfectly, never crossing the line. What I never could have predicted was that Julian would be the one to break his own rule. The summer was dragging on, and he sent me a message. He was coming back to campus early—a full month before our agreed-upon return date. I was surprised and texted back playfully, "Why so early? Miss me already?" He never replied to that message. But after that, whenever a long break came up, Julian would ask, "Want to go on a trip somewhere?" Most of the time, I’d say yes. We traveled to so many places together. We watched the stars in the vast, open desert of Joshua Tree and saw the sun melt into the ocean in the Florida Keys. I’d get lost in the scenery, completely absorbed, which is why Julian’s sudden kisses always made me jump. He loved to cup my face in his hands, his body pressing down on mine. It was a dominant, possessive kind of kiss. When it came to anything physical, Julian liked to be in control, liked me to be the one yielding to him. But every single time we got to the point of no return, I’d be the one to kill the mood and whisper, "Stop." His eyes would be clouded with desire, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled for control. He wouldn’t speak, just raise an eyebrow, a silent "Why?" My answer was always the same: "I don't want to." Even when he was practically vibrating with need, slick with a thin sheen of sweat, he would stop. Every time. He’d get up, go to the bathroom for a cold shower, and come back to bed to just hold me while we slept. After I’d stopped him enough times, I think he started to figure it out. Eventually, whenever things would start to heat up, he’d pull away on his own and head for a cold shower before I even had to say a word. There was only one exception. One day, he saw a text on my phone from a friend. "Who's this?" he asked. I didn’t hide it. "A friend from back home in Charlotte." He didn’t say anything else then, but that night, he was forceful, insistent. I tried to push him away. He pinned my wrists above my head, his body trapping mine. I turned my face away from his kiss, my voice sharp. "Julian, I don't want this!" "Why not?" he demanded, his voice rough. "Because of your friend in Charlotte?" For a man who was usually the definition of pride and control, his jealousy made him possessive and irrational. I never spelled it out, but I knew Julian understood. The reason I wouldn’t go all the way with him was because I knew he wasn’t the one I would end up with. I didn't want our connection to become any deeper than it already was. Julian was a gentleman. He understood my reservations and never forced me. But after that night, every time we were intimate, it felt like he was competing with a ghost, pushing the boundaries, testing my resolve. 2 Junior year, second semester. The date we’d set for our breakup was getting closer. The thought of it ending left a hollow ache in my chest. To avoid future pain, I started preparing myself emotionally, detaching piece by piece. That year, Julian planned a trip to England. The second day we were in Kent, while I was still jet-lagged and fast asleep, a group of people burst into our hotel room. I was pulled out of bed, forced into a wedding dress, and my face was made up into a flawless bridal look. Before I knew it, I was being led to a horse-drawn carriage waiting outside. I had no idea when Julian had arranged all of this. He and I had a wedding ceremony in Canterbury Cathedral, officiated by a real priest. There were no guests. Just the two of us. A wedding that meant nothing in the eyes of the law. It wasn't until the moment we exchanged rings that I finally understood why, for his birthday that year, he had broken tradition and asked me for a gift: a simple ring. It was so that in this moment, I would have something to give him. It was a fake wedding. We both knew it. But that night, when Julian, breathing heavily, started to pull away to take his usual cold shower, I reached out and stopped him. I pulled him back onto the bed and kissed him with everything I had. A tremor went through his entire body. "Summer," he breathed out, his voice shaking. "It's our wedding night, Julian," I murmured against his lips. "Don't be a spoilsport." And just like that, I gave in. Who cares what happens tomorrow? I thought. Just for today, I, Summer Hayes, am Julian Ford's bride. I let myself be reckless. Just this once. I thought it would be just once, but it turned out to be many times. Some boundaries, once crossed, can never be rebuilt. You just keep retreating, losing more ground. Julian and I were both out of control, the brakes had failed. I told myself it was just a final, wild countdown. A way to create one last, insane memory, to make my time with Julian Ford truly count for something. I wasn't sure when Julian would bring up the breakup. After all, our agreement was simple: date, don't marry, break up at graduation. There was no specific day circled on the calendar. I waited in agony for a while, but he never said a word. My flight back to Charlotte was booked, and I couldn't put it off any longer. We needed a formal goodbye. I asked him to meet me at a quiet restaurant near campus and I broke up with him. I thought I knew how he would react. I expected his usual cool, composed demeanor. A graceful acceptance, a polite and gentlemanly farewell. I never expected him to just look at me silently and say, "No." I was so stunned I couldn't process it. "No? What do you mean, no?" He stared deep into my eyes. "Summer, I don't want to break up." 3 My mind went into a tailspin. Julian was not the kind of person to go back on his word. He was a man of honor, always true to what he said. That’s why I had been so certain that our breakup was inevitable. I never, ever imagined he would change his mind. When did he change his mind? How did I miss it? Panic started to bubble up inside me. I had never, for a single moment, considered a future with Julian Ford. Graduating and breaking up was, in my mind, the perfect, happy ending for both of us. His last-minute reversal threw me completely off balance. I couldn’t speak, just stared at him in disbelief. My reaction was clearly not what he’d been hoping for. A rare urgency crept into his voice. "I know what you're worried about." "Summer, just give me five years." "Five years from now, I promise you, no one in the Ford family will interfere with my marriage." "When that time comes, we’ll have a real wedding. We’ll invite all our friends and family. We’ll get a marriage license with the state seal on it and we’ll tell the whole world that we belong to each other." "Summer," he asked, his voice pleading, "what do you say?" Faced with his earnest gaze, my own eyes darted away guiltily. I forced the words out, my voice tight and stuttering. "But… we had a deal. We break up when we graduate." Julian flinched, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "What?" It had come to this. If I didn't lay it all out, this would only get messier. I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. "I want to break up." His gaze shot towards me, so sharp it felt like it could physically pierce my skin. He rested his arms on the table, his eyes locked on mine, and a chilling aura radiated from him. "Why?" The word was quiet, almost lifeless, as if he wasn't asking a question so much as daring me to confirm his worst fears. I had never felt this kind of pressure from him before. Deciding to just rip the Band-Aid off, I let everything I’d been holding back spill out. "Because we don't fit. We’re from different worlds." "I don’t have big ambitions, Julian. I just want a comfortable, peaceful life. Eat good food, sleep well." "I don't want to be picked apart by your family because I don't come from money." "And I don’t want to spend my life navigating the complicated social politics of your world." "If I marry you, all of that is inevitable." "So, the truth is… I never, ever planned on building a future with you." As I spoke, my voice got quieter. I suddenly realized that compared to him, I was the cruel one. He was meticulously planning a future for us, and I was meticulously calculating my escape route. It was as if we were on a battlefield together; he was ready to fight to the death for me, while I had already packed my bags, ready to desert without a second glance. "I’ve said everything I need to say," I mumbled, scrambling to my feet, desperate to escape. "I'm leaving. You take care." I turned to go. A hand clamped down on my arm. It felt like a vice, refusing to let go. My heart hammered against my ribs as I looked back. Julian was still sitting, looking up at me. He, the proudest man I knew, looked like he’d been caught in a freezing rain, a coldness radiating from him that chilled me to the bone. He asked, his voice raw, "If you never saw a future with me, why did you give yourself to me?" My breath hitched. I yanked my arm free and forced a casual tone. "I can't believe you're actually hung up on that. It wasn't a big deal to me." He recoiled as if I’d stung him, his eyes shattering into a million pieces. Then, he pulled his lips into a bitter, self-deprecating smile and stood up. His tall frame instantly cast a shadow over me. He stood straight, too proud to bend, just lowering his gaze to look down at me. "Summer Hayes, you better pray we never cross paths again. Because if we do, I don't know what I'll do." My face was a mask of indifference, but my palms were slick with sweat. A wave of regret washed over me. I never should have gotten involved with him. That day, I fled from the restaurant and didn't look back. I ran all the way back to Charlotte. From then on, even when I traveled, I deliberately avoided New York City. I thought I would never see Julian Ford again. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans… 4 My cousin Chloe was marrying into money, and she invited me to her wedding. It was being held in New York City. As soon as I heard the location, I politely declined. But then, the groom’s family reviewed the guest list from Chloe’s side and circled a single name: mine. Apparently, I was the only one deemed "acceptable" enough to attend. In other words, Chloe's own parents weren't allowed at her wedding. The only people from her side would be me and a few bridesmaids. My aunt, Chloe’s mom, came to my house personally to beg me. She wanted me, as the sole family representative, to be there to "have Chloe’s back." I was forced to accept the absurd responsibility. We were put up in a luxury hotel. The wedding was the next day. The night before, some girl added Chloe on social media and sent her a dozen photos of herself getting cozy with the groom-to-be, along with a video. A "Bachelor's Last Hurrah" party was in full swing at a villa about twenty miles from our hotel. The video showed the girl and Chloe's fiancé in a full-on, passionate kiss. Chloe calmly shut off her phone and turned to me and the six other bridesmaids. "Alright, ladies," she said, "Let's go crash a party." I never thought I would see Julian again. New York is a huge city. The odds had to be infinitesimal. My first time back in four years, and I’d just happen to run into him? But the universe has a twisted sense of humor. Chloe was there to make a statement. She marched right up to the girl from the video and slapped her, hard. The girl, indignant, looked to the groom, Kyle Holt, for support, only to find him watching with an amused grin, making no move to defend her. What the girl didn't know was that Chloe and Kyle had an arrangement. He could fool around all he wanted, and Chloe would turn a blind eye, on one condition: if any of his flings ever got bold enough to challenge her directly, he was not to interfere when she put them in their place. The girl had drastically overestimated her importance. Chloe grabbed her by the hair and literally threw her out of the party. Kyle, as if nothing had happened, shut the door behind her, then casually wrapped an arm around Chloe’s waist. "Don't be rude," he said cheerfully. "Since you're here, you should go say hi to Julian." Chloe, who had just been in a brawl, her collar askew and her hair a mess, calmly straightened her clothes. "Okay," she said. "Let me just fix myself up, and I'll be right over." Kyle left her and headed over to a table where a group of impossibly good-looking people were sitting, looking far more civilized than the rowdy crowd by the pool. Chloe glanced in their direction, then motioned for the bridesmaids to huddle close. "See that table?" she whispered. "Any of those guys are fair game, except for the one in the middle." Curious, I followed her gaze to the man in the middle. My breath caught in my throat. It took me a long moment to look away. I saw him. He hadn't seen me. It was Julian. Four years older, Julian was different. The last traces of boyish youth were gone, replaced by a deep, steady intensity in his eyes. He carried himself with an air of quiet, formidable authority. One of the bridesmaids, a stunning girl named Isabelle, had her eyes fixed on him. "Why not him?" she asked, a hint of disappointment in her voice. Chloe tugged on her arm, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "He is way out of our league. Don't even think about it, unless you want to get seriously burned." Isabelle, who had a proud streak, just gave a soft "Oh," as if she was taking the advice. 5 I told Chloe I wasn't good at socializing and would sit this one out. "Are you insane?" she said, dragging me forward. "You're gorgeous! You need to be meeting guys like this!" She was like a bulldozer. Fearing she'd make a scene, I gave in and followed her to the table. Chloe greeted Julian respectfully, calling him by a nickname I’d never heard. "Julian, hi!" Julian was as polite and charming as ever, but… something was different. There was a new layer of distance to him, a polite wall that made him seem friendly but utterly unapproachable. "I didn't know you'd be here," Chloe said, flashing a brilliant smile. "I would have brought my girls over sooner." Isabelle seized the opening. "It's so nice to meet you, Julian," she said, mirroring Chloe's greeting with a flirty tone. Julian glanced at her, his own smile faint and noncommittal. Another guy at the table smoothly intervened. "Not many people get to call him Julian. You should probably stick with Mr. Ford, like the rest of us." Isabelle playfully stuck out her tongue. "My apologies, Mr. Ford." She handled the awkward moment with impressive grace. I was silently applauding her social skills when Chloe suddenly announced, "And Julian, this is my cousin, Summer Hayes." She stepped aside, leaving me completely exposed. The world seemed to brighten as several pairs of eyes landed on me. The one pair, straight ahead, was the sharpest. The moment his gaze hit me, I felt a physical force, a wave of sheer intensity. I knew I couldn't escape. I slowly lifted my head and met his eyes, looking at that face that was so familiar and yet so strange. My hand clenched into a fist. Forcing a calm I didn't feel, I smiled. "Mr. Ford. It's nice to see you again." Julian's lips pressed into a thin, hard line. He just stared at me, saying nothing, his expression cold and unreadable. The atmosphere wasn't terrible, on the surface. We were both masters of disguise. No one could have guessed the history simmering between us. Chloe continued introducing her friends, and the bridesmaids tried to mingle. Julian's friends were all friendly enough, and the conversation flowed easily. Until Julian suddenly spoke. "Summer Hayes." His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the chatter and silenced the entire table. My heart gave a painful thud, and my eyes snapped to his. He was still seated, looking up at me, his face impassive. Four words left his lips, slow and deliberate. "Long time no see." A deafening silence fell over the table. After what felt like an eternity, Chloe found her voice, her tone filled with shock. "Wait, Summer… you and Mr. Ford… you know each other?" And there it was. The question, hanging in the air for everyone to hear. I was speechless. After a moment of careful consideration, I gave my answer. "We were classmates." Julian, who had been watching me intently, flinched almost imperceptibly at my words. He rose from the sofa and walked towards me. He moved slowly, but with a heavy, oppressive energy, like a storm cloud gathering thunder. He stopped right in front of me and asked, his voice laced with a bitter self-mockery, "So, I don't even qualify as an ex-boyfriend?"
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "385566", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel