By the time I left the bar, it was already 3:00 am. The streets were almost empty, with just an occasional gust of biting wind pulling me back into my memories.

I met Zayne two years ago during my part-time job. He told me he'd never met someone as pure as me, and he wanted me to have a relationship with him that would never end.

I laughed it off and rejected him over and over. It wasn't until that year's New Year's Eve when my stepfather secretly pried open my bedroom door.

Terrified, I called Zayne.

On that snowy night, he took me by the hand, helped me escape from hell, and promised to give me a home.

That was all I wanted—a home.

We had been together for two years, and Zayne had coaxed me into countless nights of passion and promised me over and over that he would marry me. But it had been six months since we got engaged, and I was just now realizing that I'd never even met his family.

All I had was this simple, cheap silver ring. What a load of crap—engagement, love, all of it…

Tears blurred my vision as I ripped the engagement ring off and tossed it into a nearby trash can. "I don't want to marry you anymore, Zayne," I said to myself.

…

The next morning, I woke up early and started packing my bags.

Zayne, who hadn't returned home all night, walked in and froze before grabbing my hand. "Where are you going?"

Without looking up, I answered, "My finals are coming up, so I'm moving back to campus."

His expression softened, and he slipped his arms around my waist from behind. "How long will you be gone? You know I can't survive without you," he said.

I used to enjoy moments like this—the sweetness, the intimacy. But now, for some reason, it just made me feel sick to my stomach. I pulled away from his embrace and continued packing my things.

Zayne casually glanced over and immediately noticed my finger. His gaze darkened as he asked, "Where's your ring? Why aren't you wearing it?"

The rapid-fire questions caught me off guard. "It got dirty, so I took it off."

I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination, but it seemed like he let out a sigh of relief. He smiled and casually said, "Since it's dirty, you should just get rid of it. It wasn't worth much anyway. I'll buy you a better one tomorrow."

Right. It wasn't worth much.

Two years ago, when Zayne proposed to me, we were in a hotel room. After passion, I looked up at him with teary eyes and asked, "Will you marry me, Zayne?"

He froze for a second before pulling out a plain silver ring from his pocket and sliding it onto my finger. There were no flowers, no applause, and definitely no getting on one knee. Yet, I still foolishly believed he would make me the happiest woman on earth.

Upon looking back now, I couldn't help but laugh at my own naivety.

I zipped up my suitcase and went to the bathroom to wash my hands. All of a sudden, my phone buzzed with a notification—Yasmin had uploaded a proposal video on her social media.

In the shaky footage, Zayne had gotten down on one knee in front of everyone and carefully slid a massive diamond ring onto her finger. Meanwhile, the crowd was cheering.

The large diamond sparkled under the lights and almost blinded me.

I tried to watch it again, but the video had already disappeared. All that was left was an apology from Yasmin.

"Please don't be upset, Emilia. It was just a joke. I don't know how I accidentally tagged you.

"We'd all agreed not to tell you. You're not mad, are you, Emilia?" Her taunting words kept coming, one after another.

Just then, Zayne knocked on the door. "What kind of ring do you like, Em? I'll take you shopping tomorrow, okay?"

The brutal disconnect between his words and reality clawed at my already-shattered heart. I sniffled and exulted, "Okay!"

That evening, Zayne insisted on dragging me to a company's networking event. We'd been together for two years, but this was the first time he was willing to show up with me in a public setting.

The night went smoothly, and Zayne seemed to be in a good mood—until Yasmin stumbled into the gala like a lost bunny and bumped straight into a businessman, knocking the glass of red wine right out of his hand.

The crimson liquid splashed all over his expensive suit, and his expression instantly congealed. "What the hell is wrong with you? Don't you watch where you're going?"

Yasmin immediately teared up and pitifully looked at Zayne.

He frowned and stepped forward to shield her. "She's still a kid, Mr. Lawson. Please don't hold it against her," Zayne stiffly said.

His dry words only made the businessman's expression even darker. He pointed at Yasmin who was standing behind Zayne and sneered, "Alright, I won't hold it against her if she pours me a drink and apologizes."

Yasmin tugged at Zayne's sleeve, silently asking for help. He gently patted her hand before shifting his attention to me. "Em, why don't you pour Mr. Lawson a drink?"

I was caught off guard for a moment before immediately refusing. I said, "Why should I?"

Zayne's brows drew together, his expression the picture of disappointment. "Yasmin is young. She's not used to these situations. But you are. You know what to do."

A hush fell over the crowd. The other guests exchanged glances, their eyes gleaming with amusement. Then, one of them broke the silence and nudged Zayne with a sly grin. "Who would've guessed? She's so young yet already so experienced. You're one lucky guy, Mr. Jefferson!"

"Right, we could all learn a thing or two from you, Mr. Jefferson. You really know how to train your women."

"Maybe you can teach us how to make ours so… capable."

Their insinuating comments drained the color from my face.

Zayne's gaze hardened. He was about to retort when Yasmin suddenly wobbled and fainted.

Panic instantly washed over him. Without a moment's hesitation, he scooped her up and rushed out, leaving me behind to face the increasingly bold stares from everyone.

In the end, it was that businessman who stepped forward and led me out. Before parting ways, he handed me his coat and said, "Young lady, you're still oh-so young."

His words shattered all the pride I'd been pretending to have.

…

When I arrived home, I stood in front of my wardrobe for a while.

It was filled to the brim—mostly with gifts Zayne had given me. I took them out one by one and laid them neatly on the bed.

The red lace slip dress was a gift from Zayne for our 100th day together.

The black stockings was his gift for our first anniversary.

The pointed-toe heels was my birthday gift from him for my 20th birthday.

Zayne had everything custom-made for me, and all of it turned me into nothing more than an object to satisfy his desires. But it was only now that I realized… this wasn't love.

My phone suddenly lit up with a new message from Zayne.

"Yasmin's fine now. I'm on my way to pick you up. I bought you a new ring. I'll give it to you when I get back. Also, about tonight… I'm sorry."

Just then, I received a call from Mr. Levine. He said, "There's been a change in plans, Emilia. We have to leave a day earlier. The car is already downstairs to pick you up. Hurry up and pack your things."

"Alright." I wiped away my tears, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out of the place that had trapped me for far too long.