Xander left without looking back, not sparing me a single glance. After he was gone, he sent me a message:

"I'm going to be with Grace. Pack your things and leave. Remember, don't leave anything of yours behind. Grace would get upset.

"I think we can still keep in touch. If you ever need company, you can call me."

Finally, the tears I'd held back spilled over.

Ten years—just when I'd fallen in love with him, he didn't want me anymore.

"Xander, tell me. What were we to each other all these ten years?"

I thought he wouldn't reply, but then my phone chimed.

"Dalia, it was a physical attraction between us. I think you should understand that. And with things like this, we don't owe each other any responsibility.

"We can still be friends. That's it."

I stared at the screen, crying and laughing at the same time. A girl's best ten years, I'd given them all to him, and he acted like it was only natural.

He never even thought about taking responsibility for me. That night, I stared at the empty room and didn’t close my eyes the whole night. Memories flooded in, bringing me back to ten years ago.

I was twenty then, working at a café. I accidentally dropped and broke a coffee cup, and the manager told me to pay for it.

"You spilled a customer’s coffee last time, and now you’ve broken a cup. Do you even want this job?" he snapped.

I hung my head, letting him scold me without daring to speak.

"I’m warning you, this is the second time. One more mistake and you’re out!

"Pay for the cup right now, or you won’t get your wages today!"

I twisted the hem of my clothes nervously, telling him I couldn’t afford it.

"I haven’t saved up enough for this month’s living expenses yet, and there’s also my tuition fees. I..."

"If you break something, you pay for it. Either pay up now or leave!"

Tears stung my eyes. I was just about to speak when I heard a tap on the counter.

"As a grown man, you should be a little kinder to a young girl."

I turned my head and saw a hand with well-defined knuckles, then Xander’s handsome face and his striking eyes.

When the manager recognized him, his tone instantly softened.

"Xander, you’re here. What would you like to drink today?"

Xander didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at me. "This has nothing to do with you. Go back to work."

The manager didn’t object. I immediately busied myself with pretend work, but kept listening to their conversation.

"Be nicer to your staff. If I find out otherwise, I’ll double the rent for this place."

Xander had helped me. The manager nodded repeatedly, and the way he looked at me grew much more polite.

When Xander left, I couldn’t help staring straight at him.

"What are you looking at?" he asked.

"You’re so handsome."

The words slipped out before I could stop them, my face flushing instantly. His eyes crinkled, and suddenly he leaned in, his nose brushing mine. "Is that so? Am I really that handsome?"

I nodded again. He was good-looking, kind, and he’d helped me—there was an instinctive attraction to this man that hit me all at once.

I never expected Xander to return to the café the next day. He sat by the window, sunlight spilling over him, making his chestnut hair glow like it was gilded. I brought over his coffee, but my nerves got the better of me, and some spilled onto his hand.

"Oh! I’m so sorry!" I panicked, grabbing a tissue to wipe his hand, but he caught mine mid-movement.

“Hey, you seem awfully nervous to see me," he said.

I shook my head quickly. "No, I’m not..." But he just smiled, his eyes crinkling, and led me out of the café by the hand.

"You like good-looking guys, huh? Be my girl. You can look all you want."

I can’t remember my reaction. It was like I couldn’t refuse—letting him lift me up and carry me into a nearby hotel.

On the soft bed, he untied my hair tie, letting my hair fall over my shoulders. Xander brushed my hair aside, bringing it to his nose to smell. Sensing me trembling, he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"Relax, I'll make you feel like you're in paradise."

After that night, I was completely swept away. Every day I worked at the café, Xander would show up. Eventually, even the tiny café bathroom became a place where we’d steal moments to be intimate. And by the hotel’s floor-to-ceiling windows, he’d press me against the glass, gripping my waist from behind. "Arch your back a little more, lower your body..."

Over the course of ten years, I went from a nervous little girl who’d get flustered at the sight of him to a woman who could meet all his needs. I got caught up in this relationship driven by desire, thinking it was love.

I gave Xander my first kiss, my first time, and my first love. He took me to the heights of pleasure again and again, making me fall deeply in love with him amid that intense bliss.

All these years, I’d been waiting for him to propose. I even daydreamed about having a boy and a girl after marriage— the boy looking like him, the girl like me.

Ten years is such a long time. So long that I never once thought we’d part. Not until now, when I’m thirty, that he announced it was over.

At the thought, I suddenly let out a laugh. It’s absurd— I spent ten years with only him, treating those ten years as if they’d be a lifetime.

I started packing my clothes from the wardrobe. Only then did I realize how extreme the styles were in the two rows.

The first row had white dresses, pale yellow blouses, light blue sweaters... The second row was filled with black see-through nightgowns, red low-cut ones, sheer lace pieces... All of them were what Xander liked.

He’d make me wear the innocent-looking clothes from the first row when we went out, and demand I change into the sexy, barely-there ones from the second row when we were alone.

"I want you to be a pure little rabbit in public, and a seductress in my bed," Xander always liked to say that.

I bought the latest lipstick, a bright tangerine shade.

"This doesn't suit you." Xander didn't hesitate, reaching for a tissue to wipe my lips clean. "You look lovely with no makeup."

No one would believe it, but I hadn't worn makeup in ten years.

Standing in front of the mirror, I looked at myself. No makeup, but at thirty, I carried a lazy sensuality I didn't have at twenty.

I took off my hair tie, letting my golden curls fall loose. Then I pulled out a black, low-cut bodycon dress from the back of the wardrobe—still unopened, a birthday gift to myself on my thirtieth birthday.

A friend once teased me, "Only a nun would wear a dress that covers even her insteps." I never dared tell her it was the style Xander preferred.

This dress barely covered what needed covering.

I let out a soft breath.

Finally, I could stop catering to others' demands and wear what I liked, what suited me.

The fabric clung to my body, highlighting my shapely hips and baring my fair, smooth legs. The low neckline accentuated the curve of my chest.

I put on makeup—neutral eyeshadow, then that bright red lipstick. Staring at myself in the mirror, I realized I'd forgotten what I was meant to be like after all these years.

I'd always thought my lips were too thin, but now I saw it was just that no lipstick had ever brought out their natural fullness.

Sliding into slender high heels, I smoothed my hair and checked Xander's Instagram. "It's my birthday now. Once midnight hits, it'll be my brother's."

I raised an eyebrow, a thought forming. Xander's brother, from what I'd heard, was quite good-looking too.

When I showed up at Xander's villa, the noisy chatter suddenly fell silent.

All eyes turned to me, and I took a small step back.

"Wow, where did this stunning woman come from?"

"I’ve never seen her before. Is she a friend of Xander’s?"

Even the women looked at me with a mix of admiration and envy. They were all dressed elaborately, but the moment I appeared, everyone else seemed to fade into the background.

Rick walked over holding a wine glass. "Hi there, beautiful lady. Are you here for my brother’s and my birthday party? How come I’ve never seen you before?"

I couldn’t help thinking—Xander’s brother was just like him, in his own way.

"I’m Dalia. Don’t you recognize me?"

As the words left my mouth, the murmurs around us fell silent. I heard a chorus of sharp intakes of breath.

Rick’s smile vanished. His grip on the wine glass tightened, his gaze growing dark. Apart from him, no one could believe that the sexy, alluring woman in front of them was the Dalia they knew. After all, I’d always seemed so innocent in their eyes.

"Goodness, Dalia looks absolutely breathtaking like this!"

"Yeah, it’s weird that Xander picked that plain girl instead."

"I can’t believe my eyes—Grace doesn’t even come close to Dalia!"

"Hey, do you think Xander will regret it when he sees Dalia like this..."

Listening to their words, I felt a jumble of emotions. I’d been the last to know that Xander had moved on to someone new.

Just then, Xander walked over, arm around a girl, smiling broadly. "What’s everyone huddled around talking about? It’s past midnight now—it’s my brother Rick’s birthday. C’mon, let’s all..."

He had his arm around Grace’s shoulders, leading her over to Rick. “Your sister-in-law made a special trip to celebrate your birthday with you. You… ”

Just then, his voice trailed off. I saw his eyes widen slightly; the arm around Grace dropped away, and he couldn’t help loosening his tie.

Xander’s gaze fixed on me, unblinking. In his stunned expression, I caught confusion, admiration, and a desire he was struggling to hold back.

Grace looked up, puzzled. “Xander, who is she?” Her voice was sweet, laced with a heavy, coquettish tone.

“It’s… Dalia,” Xander swallowed hard, his eyes still glued to me.

I finally got a good look at the girl’s face: golden hair in a ponytail, innocent deep blue eyes, a fresh, unmade-up face that radiated purity—exactly like me at twenty. Even the perfume she wore smelled of fresh citrus, light and sweet.

“Oh, you’re Dalia!” Grace blinked her innocent eyes, showing no hint of hostility toward me. “I’ve heard about you. Xander mentioned you—said you’re like a white rose.”

“But, Dalia, you look so beautiful. Not like a white rose… like a goddess!” Her generous praise was cut off by Xander’s cold voice.

“Dalia, who told you to dress like that?”

“Aren’t you ashamed to show up looking like this?”