So, when Simon came out of the shower and saw me packing in the bedroom, his mood turned inexplicably irritable.

He stormed into the room and yanked out the clothes I had just folded, one by one.

"I bought this coat for you in France last year, and I gave this dress to you just last month."

One by one, he pulled every last piece of clothing from the suitcase and tossed them aside, the final one slipping from my sight and landing on the floor.

Then he smirked, his tone laced with mockery.

"Chloe, I bought all of this for you. Do you really think you could afford these designer brands with the scraps you make in a month?"

Simon grabbed my arm and dragged me to the vanity mirror.

He gripped my chin, forcing me to look at my own reflection.

"Chloe, do you think it’s disgusting that I paint on women’s bodies for inspiration? But who are you to act all high and mighty? Haven’t I been the one supporting you all these years?

"Look at yourself—every single thing you’re wearing, from head to toe, I bought it for you.

“You want to break up? Fine.

"Strip. Leave everything behind and get out."

I didn’t cry or make a scene.

I simply pulled away from Simon’s grip.

Right in front of him, I took off each piece of clothing like shedding layers of restraint.

What Simon never knew was that I never liked these designer brands in the first place.

He was the one who insisted on buying them, forcing me to wear them.

And every time, he would gaslight me.

"Chloe, I’m a renowned artist now. Being my girlfriend is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

"So don’t embarrass me. When you’re out in public, you need to watch how you speak and act. Even your style has to be refined and high-end."

To fit the role of Simon’s perfect girlfriend, I wore clothes that didn’t fit, heels I despised, accompanied him to events I hated, and said things I never meant.

The heels looked beautiful but cut into my skin, leaving my heels raw and bleeding.

Scabs formed, only to break open again, until all that remained were hardened calluses.

By the time I was done stripping, I was left in just my underwear.

I reached into the bottom of my closet and pulled out the only set of clothes I had bought for myself—my old workout gear.

Simon always said it looked cheap, but to me, it was the most comfortable thing I owned.

Finally, I packed my ID, passport, and phone charger into my bag, then looked up at Simon. "Can I leave now?"

Without waiting for an answer, I stepped past him and walked toward the door.

Just as my hand pressed down on the doorknob, Simon suddenly made a call and deliberately put it on speaker.

A sweet, delicate voice came through the line. "Simon, why are you calling so late? Do you miss me?"

Simon chuckled. "Mm."

"Baby, send me your address. I’ll come right over."

I didn’t listen to the rest. I didn’t need to.

From now on, whoever Simon painted on for inspiration had nothing to do with me.

I walked out without looking back.

Behind me, something crashed hard against the door with a loud bang.

Then, from the other side of the door, Simon's voice rang out. "Chloe, don’t you dare regret this! I wouldn’t take you back in this life or the next!"

…

After the breakup, I blocked Simon on every possible contact.

My life fell into a monotonous cycle—work, home, repeat—until one evening after work when I suddenly got a call from my high school class president.

"Chloe, I’m organizing a class reunion at Latinx Bar this weekend. Noah will be there too."

…

For several nights, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Finally, the weekend arrived.

I rummaged through my closet, trying on over a dozen outfits.

Then, I spent two hours doing my makeup in the bathroom.

I arrived at Latinx Bar half an hour early.

In the elevator, I watched the numbers on the digital display climb higher and higher, my heartbeat rising with them.

Unfortunately, when the doors slid open, I ran into one of Simon’s buddies.

The moment he saw me, his face lit up with surprise and excitement.

"Chloe?! You’re here to see Simon, aren’t you?"

Reeking of alcohol, he could not walk straight, but his grip was ridiculously strong.

No matter what I said or how I resisted, he forcefully dragged me into the private lounge ahead.

Inside, the room was drenched in neon lights and the thick scent of alcohol.

The moment I stepped in, I heard Simon’s voice.

"Yeah, Chloe’s pretty, but she’s nothing special. If she weren’t so obedient and easy to handle, I would’ve dumped her a long time ago."

Laughter erupted around him.

A girl was straddling Simon’s lap, her arms wrapped around his neck as she fed him cherries from her fingers. They almost kissed.

Then, she saw me.

The room went dead silent.

Even she froze in place.

The suffocating tension lingered until Simon’s buddy finally broke it.

"I knew it! Chloe was bound to come crawling back to beg for forgiveness!"

"And look at her—all dressed up just for Simon. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is!"

The man who had dragged me in seized the moment, giving me a shove forward.

"Chloe, don’t get me wrong. Women are practically lining up for a guy like Simon. If you don’t hold onto him now, someone else will, and you’ll regret it.

"I’m just looking out for you. With what you’ve got going for you right now, you’ll never find a man better than Simon. You should be grateful."

Around the room, knowing glances were exchanged. Everyone was sneering.

They were all waiting for me to break down in tears and beg Simon to take me back.

Simon kept his hand on the girl’s body, idly stroking her, but his gaze was fixed on me, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Chloe, stop playing these boring little games. I don’t have the patience to humor you every time. This time, I’ll let it slide. But don’t pull this stunt again. Understood?"

He casually nudged the girl off his lap, dismissing her like a pet.

Then, with the same arrogance, he crooked a finger at me. "Come here."

His eyes flicked toward his lap, making it clear what he expected. His voice was as condescending as ever.

"Pour me a drink, Chloe. Consider it an apology, and we’ll call it even."

The room erupted in cheers.

"Come on, Chloe, Simon’s giving you an easy way out. Just take it."

"Yeah! And don’t forget—three shots as a penalty!"

Under the expectant gazes of the crowd, I stepped forward, picked up a glass of beer from the table and threw it straight into Simon’s face.

The liquid soaked his hair, strands clinging to his forehead.

His eyes squeezed shut from the sudden impact, but after a brief pause, they snapped open.

Silence crashed over the room.

The dim lights flickered weakly above, struggling like a breath on its last legs.

Simon clenched his teeth, his jaw tight as he glared at me.

I met his stare without a trace of emotion.

"Are you sober now, Simon? It appears you didn’t hear me clearly that night, so let me say it again, in front of everyone.

"Simon, we’re done."

I didn’t wait for a reaction.

I turned and walked out the door.

One of Simon’s friends couldn’t hold back and asked, “Simon, you’re really not going after her? She seemed serious this time.”

Simon kicked over the coffee table, sending fruit platters and glasses shattering to the floor.

“You think I’d go after her? Ha! As if she’s worth it. I’d love to see what Chloe amounts to without me.”

…

That night, around a dozen of our old high school classmates gathered for the reunion.

It had been years since we last saw each other, and the drinks flowed freely as laughter and conversation filled the air.

The class president had always been close to Noah back in school.

He told me that Noah came tonight just for me.

"Chloe, we all thought you two would end up together after graduation. Who could’ve guessed his biological parents would suddenly show up and take him overseas?"

That was the year I found out the truth.

The same Noah I grew up with—the boy who ate plain bread and pickled vegetables with me in our small rural town, who never had a decent winter coat and was always mistaken for a street beggar—turned out to be the long-lost heir of a wealthy family.

Just then, the door swung open, and Noah walked in.

All eyes turned toward him in an instant.

I glanced back.

He stood taller than the crowd, dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal-gray suit.

Having broad shoulders and a lean waist, he looked like he had stepped straight off the cover of a high-end magazine.

"Well, well, if it isn’t our very own Noah Wells. It’s been years, and you finally decided to show up."

"Noah, you’re late. That means you owe us a few extra drinks tonight."

He greeted everyone politely. "Of course."

At the same time, his gaze drifted through the room until it locked onto me.

The moment our eyes met, my heart pounded so hard it felt like it might break free from my chest.

…

During the second half of the reunion, I stepped out of the restroom only to be yanked into the dimly lit stairwell.

The space was narrow, the air thick with the scent of alcohol clinging to Noah.

"Why haven’t you answered my messages?"

I looked away. "Work’s been busy. I forgot."

"You're lying."

His breath was hot against my skin, his gaze burning with frustration.

"Chloe, why didn’t you tell me my mother came to see you two years ago?"

The truth was, she had.

Two years ago, Noah’s mother sought me out.

She told me he was already engaged.

His fiancée was a graduate of Royal West College, a prestigious university, and came from a wealthy family, someone who was perfectly suited for Noah.

His mother even showed me their photos together.

The girl stood beside Noah, her smile warm and radiant.

They looked perfect together.

"I never planned on marrying her," Noah said, his grip tightening around my wrist, pinning it in place.

"This time, I came back ready to risk everything. No one can keep us apart anymore."

His breath hitched as his fingers slid to my jaw, pressing firmly.

"So, Chloe… Break up with Simon and come back to me."

My lashes fluttered, my eyes widening in surprise.

Then, Noah forced my jaw open, his tongue claiming me in a searing kiss, as if determined to erase any trace of another man.

…

After that night, Noah started showing up at my office every day with roses—each time in a different color.

He was always there, waiting to take me home.

Tonight, I left work later than usual, still finishing up a few tasks.

Through the glass doors, I saw him leaning casually against his car, a bouquet of blue roses in hand.

Dressed in a fitted black trench coat, the sharp cut of the fabric framed his broad shoulders and lean waist effortlessly.

I couldn’t help but quicken my pace, a smile spreading across my face as I ran toward Noah.

As always, no matter how many people were watching, he opened his arms the moment he saw me, laughing as he pulled me into his embrace.

I took the flowers from his hands and brought them to my nose, inhaling softly. "Hmm, not as fragrant as yesterday’s pink roses."

Noah playfully pinched the tip of my nose. "You’re getting pickier by the day."

He walked me to the car, opening the door himself and placing a hand over the top to shield my head. "Get in, my lady. Tonight, I’m taking you for fine dining."

Hugging the bouquet, I slid into the passenger seat with a grin.

"Then I’ll make sure to eat my fill."

What I didn’t expect was to run into Simon at the restaurant.

…

Halfway through dinner, Noah stepped outside to take a call.

I was scrolling through my phone when I suddenly heard a familiar, mocking voice.