Part 3Love, Hate, and Farewell

I was stunned, unsure why he was suddenly bringing up Sylvia. It took me a moment to understand what he meant.

Sylvia. Nick's old flame.

The "someone else" the woman at the reunion had been talking about.

The first time I saw Nick, he and Sylvia were standing side-by-side on a campus path, each holding a stack of books, watching me argue with someone. My new car had knocked over a fruit vendor's cart, and he was wailing for me to pay for damages and his medical bills. No one in the crowd believed me when I said he'd deliberately run into my car. They all accused me of being a rich, arrogant bully.

Just as I was about to be swallowed by their accusations, a clear voice cut through the noise.

"Since when is fault in a traffic accident determined by who's rich and who's poor?"

I whipped my head around and saw him. Nick, in a white shirt, dappled in the light filtering through the trees. Tall, lean, and clean-cut.

In that one glance, he found a place in my heart.

Before I decided to pursue him, I made a special trip to find Sylvia, the campus beauty from the civil engineering department, and ask what their relationship was. They were always together, and everyone assumed they were a couple.

Sylvia toyed with a lock of her long hair, thought for a moment, and smiled. "We're just classmates from the same hometown."

When Nick heard her answer, he was silent for a few seconds before stating, expressionless, "It's just like she said."

I grew up wealthy, pretty, and bright. My parents taught me to be brave in expressing my love. I had never met a boy like Nick before. Satisfied with their answers, I launched a full-blown, public campaign to win him over.

Nick had fought his way out of a poor, rural town and possessed a fierce pride. He rejected me, saying he wouldn't date anyone until he’d paid off his ten years of student loans.

But back then, my world revolved around him. A rare smile, an occasional agreement to have dinner, a casual show of concern—any of these could send me into a state of euphoria and fuel my determination.

I chased him for two years, and for two years, he rejected me.

What finally broke through his defenses was his mother's sudden illness. His entire family was helpless in the face of the thirty-thousand-dollar medical bill. As Nick grew thinner with each failed loan application, I took out my entire personal savings and gently asked him to accept it.

That day, for the first time, I saw his helplessness, his vulnerability, and his gratitude.

Three months later, he appeared below my dorm with a bouquet of roses. I ran into his arms, my face burning. I was trembling with happiness, and his eyes were red-rimmed too.

"Anna, how can you love me so much? How did I get so lucky?"

At Sylvia's wedding, when she saw Nick and me arrive hand-in-hand, a flicker of something unreadable crossed her face. Later, coming out of the restroom, I saw them standing together on the balcony, talking. It was just like the day I first met them.

The wind carried snippets of their conversation to me.

"...I was waiting for you to say something back then..."

"...Anna is a good girl..."

"...I guess we just weren't meant to be..."

At the time, I thought, everyone has a youthful crush. She was married now, and Nick was good to me. We were on our own paths. That was all that mattered.

But I never anticipated that life could fire an arrow backward, and that it would come with such devastating force.

Six months ago, Sylvia got divorced. She had rushed into a marriage with a trust-fund kid, only to suffer infidelity and domestic abuse. He took their child and his family schemed to leave her with nothing.

She found Nick, looking haggard and broken.

A man always holds a special place for the girl he crushed on when he was poor. The first time she called, Nick was completely thrown. Perhaps to make up for a past regret, or perhaps to show off how successful he'd become, he threw himself into helping her.

For the past six months, he has practically dropped everything for her—paying for lawyers, running around gathering evidence, confronting her ex-husband's family, even spending holidays with her and her child.

At first, I told him how uncomfortable it made me.

He looked at me with disappointment, his voice cold. "Sylvia is from my hometown, and she was our classmate. She's a woman who's been abused and had her child taken from her. She's at the end of her rope. Shouldn't I help her?"

So, time and time again, I was left behind. Time and time again, when I couldn't reach him, I’d see him on Sylvia's social media feed. A photo of his back as he helped her look for an apartment. His suit jacket draped over her sofa. Four hands playing with her golden retriever.

Slowly, I stopped saying anything.

When Nick didn't come home, I went to bed early.

When he spent a holiday at an amusement park with her and her son, I bought myself a very expensive handbag.

Sylvia’s posts no longer stirred anything in me. I almost liked one out of habit.

Nick was pleased with my understanding nature and bought me a large diamond as a gift. I expressed the appropriate surprise and gratitude, but when he leaned in to kiss me, I instinctively coughed and turned away.

He froze, a complex expression on his face.

And it was from that day on that I had a shocking realization:

I think I didn't love Nick anymore.

The thought sent a wave of panic through me. No wonder I recoiled from his touch. No wonder his voice grated on my nerves. No wonder his clean clothes smelled so strangely repulsive to me.

I didn't love him anymore.

But I didn't know what to do.

Divorce? On what grounds? That I'd fallen out of love? Marriage wasn't a game, and I was certain no one would believe that reason. In everyone's eyes, including Nick's, I was madly in love with him.

Because we didn't get along? Nick wasn't an expressive person by nature, but objectively, he treated me well—better after marriage than before. When my father's company faced a crisis two years ago, he didn't hesitate to invest heavily to save it.

Because of Sylvia? I knew Nick. He wasn't impulsive. Despite their recent closeness, I was sure nothing physical had happened. At least, not yet.

I truly didn't know what to do. I was trapped. I grew more unhappy, thinner. A pupa in a cocoon, seeing only a gray, hopeless world.

Tonight. Now.

Hearing Nick mention Sylvia's name, I felt a sudden urge. My parents taught me to be brave in expressing love. Shouldn't I be just as brave when the love was gone?

"Nick."

My voice was steady in the darkness.

"Maybe we should—"

He cut me off with a sharp click of his tongue. "Alright, I don't want to explain anything more about Sylvia." He rolled over, his voice laced with impatience and restraint. "It's Mom's birthday this weekend. Pull yourself together. Don't show up looking like this and make her worry."

I gazed at the pale moonlight outside the window. A soft, silvery light, just like Sylvia's name.

I let out a long, quiet sigh.