Thor and I grew up together—we were the definition of childhood sweethearts. We'd promised to attend the same university, graduate, and marry right after senior year.

Everyone envied us. They said we were a perfect match, destined for a lifetime together. And I believed that too. I truly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him.

Until the final semester of our senior year in high school, when a new transfer student named Lina joined our class.

At first, the two barely spoke. But as they grew familiar, their bond deepened in ways I could no longer ignore.

He started staying after school to tutor her, bringing her breakfast every morning. When she was upset, he'd take her for a drive along the coast. If she craved Italian steak, he'd have fresh cuts flown in. Even during her period, he'd quietly prepare everything she needed.

I was furious. I confronted him, argued with him, and even threatened to break up.

The first time I said it, he thought I was joking and coaxed me out of my anger. The second time, he dismissed it as another tantrum and tried different ways to please me. The third time, he broke down—standing outside my house in the pouring rain all night, half kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness.

Again and again, I tried to leave, and every time, he refused to let me go. Yet with each reconciliation, something in him shifted. He started taking me for granted, assuming I would always come back.

His patience wore thin. His apologies turned perfunctory. Even when he came to make peace, there was no sincerity left in his voice.

So I said it for the hundredth time, and that was the last. That was the moment I finally gave up on him.

Thor Bentley and I grew up together—we were true childhood sweethearts.

We were neighbors from the day we were born. We attended the same schools from kindergarten to high school, and we were always in the same class.

At sixteen, we confessed our feelings for each other.

At eighteen, during our coming-of-age ceremony, our families made it official with an engagement.

We'd promised to enter the same university, graduate together, and marry right after senior year.

Everyone envied us. They said we were a perfect match—meant for each other in this life and the next. And I believed that too. I thought I would grow old by his side, until the final semester of our senior year in high school, when a new transfer student named Lina Prescott joined our class.

Lina was strikingly beautiful and bold, her arrival turning heads the moment she stepped through the door. Even the teachers adored her.

When the seating was arranged, our homeroom teacher paired her with Thor, saying her grades were poor and she needed his help.

Thor, cold and aloof by nature, wasn't interested in tutoring anyone. But the teacher pressed him with guilt, saying, "You're part of the class committee. It's your duty to help a struggling classmate."

He had no choice but to agree.

At first, they barely spoke. But as time passed, their closeness grew—too close.

He began staying after school to tutor her, bringing her breakfast every morning. When she was upset, he'd take her for drives along the coast. If she wanted Italian steak, he'd have fresh cuts flown in. Even during her period, he'd prepare everything she needed without being asked.

What he did had long surpassed the bounds of ordinary friendship. And little by little, the time he used to spend with me faded away.

I was furious. I argued with him, cried, made scenes—eventually, I brought up breaking up.

The first time I said it, he thought I was joking and soothed me patiently.

The second time, he dismissed it as one of my tempers and tried every way he knew to coax me.

The third time, he broke down—standing outside my house all night in the pouring rain, half kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness.

Time and time again, I said I wanted to leave, and each time, he refused to let me go. Yet with every reconciliation, something in him changed.

He began to assume I would always forgive him. That no matter what he did, I would never leave.

He lost his patience. He stopped trying to comfort me sincerely. Even when he came to make peace, his tone carried nothing but perfunctory weariness.

Then came Halloween.

The school was hosting an outdoor event, and the night air was cold. Lina shivered, saying she felt chilly, and without hesitation, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders—completely ignoring me, though I had said the same.

In that moment, every disappointment I'd buried, every ache I'd endured, erupted all at once. I stood up, staring at the two of them sitting so close together, and said coldly, "Thor, we're done."

He didn't even look up. "Don't make a scene," he said flatly.

I heard the impatience in his voice and couldn't help a bitter smile. Then I turned and walked away without another word.

He didn't follow. He didn't even offer to drive me home. Perhaps he thought that after a few days, my temper would cool; that when he finally decided to coax me again, I would, like always, forgive him.

But as I glanced back one last time, I saw him lift a grape to Lina's lips. Her lips brushed his fingertips, and my heart trembled.

In that instant, I finally understood that I no longer held the same place in his heart.

The heart he had wounded and worn down over and over again no longer longed for his warmth or his love. That was the hundredth time I said goodbye. And the one time I truly meant it.

Since I had decided to end things, I needed to cut off every connection between us.

I changed my university application, choosing a different university from Thor.

Then I gathered every gift he had ever given me, packed them neatly into a box, and sent them back.

But soon after, the box was returned by his housekeeper.

So I decided to go in person—to talk things through, one last time.

When I arrived at his house, I saw him in the garden with Lina.

She was holding a small shovel, planting a sapling, while he stood beside her, helping to fill the soil.

From a distance, they looked like a perfect couple. But what hurt most was the way he looked at her. His gaze was soft, filled with tenderness.

I didn't interrupt. I just stood there quietly, watching. Until I noticed the pair of shoes on Lina's feet— the very ones I had given him as a coming-of-age gift.

I had spent five days at a luxury workshop handcrafting those matching shoes myself. They were one of a kind, made only for us. When I'd given them to him, he had cradled them in his arms, smiling with genuine joy.

"They're perfect," he'd said. "Too beautiful to wear. I'll keep them forever as a memory."

But now… he had given them to someone else.

Sensing my gaze, Lina turned to look at me with a bright, unbothered smile.

"Hey, Aisha! You're here! We're planting trees—come join us!"

I shook my head. "No, thank you."

Her eyes flickered, and she walked toward me, lifting her foot to show off the shoes.

"Oh, right—mine got wet earlier, so Thor lent me these. You don't mind, do you?"

I shook my head again.

But what did it matter if I did? Would he even care?

Thor finally noticed me then, his expression darkening when he saw the box in my arms.

"Don't start this breakup nonsense again," he said. "I picked out those gifts carefully for you. If you don't want them anymore, what does that say about me?"

I met his gaze calmly and said, "I'm not making a scene. I'm serious."

His face twisted with anger. "Fine. If you're so set on it, then throw them all away. I don't take back what I've given."

Then he turned his back to me and went on shoveling soil, as if I were nothing more than a passing breeze.

I pressed my lips together, saying nothing. There was no point in continuing this conversation.

My eyes lingered on him for a moment. He was tall and striking, standing nearly six foot three, every inch the guy who drew countless stares wherever he went. He had always carried himself with quiet confidence and taste, effortlessly charming to others.

But back then, his eyes had only ever held me. No matter how many girls tried to flirt or tempt him, he never wavered.

Until Lina.

Now, all it took was her smile to make him forget every promise he'd made me.

It wasn't that Lina was exceptional. It was that after all these years together, he'd grown tired.

Even married couples face the seven-year itch—how could two people who were only dating escape it?

Love, no matter how deep, can't always withstand the slow erosion of time.

When another woman entered his world, I became invisible.

In his mind, nothing was his fault. Everything was mine. He even believed he was the one who had suffered.

But what he never realized was that his constant bias, his indifference, and his neglect had worn me down. I was too tired to keep trying. Too unsure to keep hoping.

The hundredth breakup was the last—because this time, I truly didn't want him anymore.

I straightened my back, forcing steadiness into my voice. "Since we've broken up, it's only right that I return what's yours."

Then I set the box down on the ground.

Just as I turned to leave, he strode forward and kicked it hard.

The box split open, spilling its contents—luxury handbags, jewelry, and the photographs that held every precious memory between us. They scattered across the ground like shattered pieces of the past.

As if that weren't enough, he stepped forward again and crushed one under his shoe.

"I don't need any of this," he said flatly.

My throat tightened; the words lodged there, refusing to come out. I turned and walked away.

When I reached the stairs, a small teddy was tossed from nearby, landing at my feet.

The sight of it blurred my vision. Whenever my parents were away and the house felt too big and lonely, I would sleep at Thor's place. He had a room for me there, and I could only fall asleep clutching that bear.

As I stood frozen, Thor continued to throw more stuff my way. The pajamas, photos, and toothbrushes I'd left at his house lay scattered at my feet.

Thor's voice was cold and clipped. "Since we're breaking up, take your things and go."

In the past, I would have sobbed and raged, begged him not to be cruel, then curled up and let the matter slide. But not now. I crouched down and collected my stuff with a steady hand.

There were too many to carry. When I looked up and saw the fireplace, I walked over and began tossing things into the hearth. Flames hungrily licked the paper and leather; a loud sizzle swallowed the objects as they were consumed. Let the fire burn everything—let it even burn away the ache inside me.

Thor stared at me, stunned, disbelief written across his face.

Lina wandered over and handed him half an apple, a deliberate little distraction. He glanced at it, ignored the teeth marks on the flesh, and bit into it as if nothing mattered.

My fingers tightened. He was obsessive about cleanliness—he wouldn't touch a banana I'd already eaten—but he had no trouble taking a bite of Lina's apple. Clearly, his fastidiousness applied selectively. She mattered to him in a way I no longer did.

I turned away, exhaustion and helplessness settling into my bones. I thought the pain would last forever, but it numbed quicker than I'd expected.

At the door, Lina intercepted me. I looked at her with cool detachment as she smiled radiantly.

"If you're really breaking up with him, just do it properly—don't keep coming back to pester Thor," she said, her tone sharp beneath the sweetness.

I frowned. "This is between him and me. It's none of your business."

Her smile deepened until it was almost malicious. "Our relationship is getting closer. I love him, so his matters are my matters now.

"You keep saying you want to break up, then you always regret it. He's run out of patience with you—he's sick of your temper. He doesn't want to coax you anymore. Do us both a favor and stop bothering him. Your clinging just makes him disgusted."

A coldness dropped over me. I was about to reply when she pushed on, flaunting her victory.

"Also, you should change your university plans. I'm going to the same school as him. If you end up there too, I'll watch him grow to despise you—watch him treat you like a stranger while I walk into the chapel beside him."

Anger flared in the depths of my eyes.

"You're insane. Go get help." I wanted to hurl worse insults at her, but arguing with someone like that felt pointless.

I tried to walk past, but she grabbed my arm, stopping me. "You're the sick one—always clinging to Thor. No wonder Thor doesn't love you."

I had been holding myself back, but her brazen arrogance finally cracked something in me. I wrenched free and shouted, "Don't touch me!"

She looked at me with loathing and kept pushing. "Who wants to touch you? Haven't you noticed Thor won't even kiss you anymore? He thinks you're dirty. You were kidnapped before, and you're tainted."

Those words made my blood boil. I didn't think—I reacted. My hand shot out and slapped her across the face.