I spent three years with Charles. Three years—long enough to grow attached to an animal, let alone a person.

But on the day his first love returned, everything changed.

I was deliberately lured into attending the welcome party he personally hosted for her.

When Susan casually remarked, "I don’t like it when others wear the same dress as me," Charles didn’t hesitate. He threw me out like a beggar.

After I left, whispers swirled in the room.

Some mocked me as a clown, suggesting I’d come to assert dominance but ended up leaving like a beggar, a pitiful joke.

Others speculated I was playing the victim, hoping Charles would chase after me.

But Charles stayed where he was, standing proudly at Susan’s side, his actions speaking louder than words.

***

Some couldn’t help but felt pity for Jessica as she left, her fragile figure was fading into the distance. Someone murmured softly, "Charles, the Jay Pritzker Pavilion is over ten miles from the Chicago and it’s hard to get a cab. Do you think Jessica will walk all the way back?"

This person didn’t have any real malice toward Jessica. In fact, they remembered how she always greeted them politely whenever she met Charles’s friends. Her gentle smile, paired with her dimples, made her seem innocent and sincere—something entirely different from Susan.

Charles had lit a cigarette at some point. He held it between his lips, his gaze cold and detached as he glanced at the speaker.

"If you feel pity her so much, why don’t you send her off?"

His icy stare was enough to make the person shiver. They quickly shook their head and stammered.

"No, no, I was just joking."

But the heavens seemed unkind, and soon, a light drizzle began to fall.

The outdoor banquet quickly activated its rain cover, allowing the glamorous guests to remain as elegant as ever, chatting and laughing as if nothing had changed.

The rain, however, grew heavier. The wind howled through the night, its eerie sound contrasting sharply with the lively chatter under the canopy.

Charles’s cigarette burned down one after another, the smoke curling around him like a mist. His face was obscured, his expression unreadable. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, adding a sense of casual disarray to his usual composed demeanor.

A sudden clap of thunder shook the air.

He abruptly stood up, as if intending to leave. But just as he lifted his foot to take a step, a soft figure threw itself into his arms.

Susan’s tearful eyes shimmered as she looked up at him, her voice trembling, "Charles, please don’t go. I’m scared of the thunder."

His Adam’s apple bobbed as if hesitating, but in the end, he gently patted her back to comfort her.

"I won’t leave."

In the flickering light of the storm, Lily stood nearby, her face twisted with malice, making her look especially sinister. She sneered, her voice low but venomous, "Such a fierce thunderstorm… I really hope the heavens strike that wretched Jessica dead."

Hatred burned brightly in her eyes, as if it could consume everything in its path.

The ten-mile road stretched endlessly before me. Rain drenched my dress, making it cling to my skin, heavy and freezing.

The high heels on my feet felt like instruments of torture, each step cutting into the soles of my feet and scraping my heels raw.

I finally took them off and carried them in my hand, walking barefoot on the cold, wet pavement. Somehow, it was a relief.

Raindrops kept battering my face, blurring my vision, while the booming thunder roared in my ears.

As if things couldn’t get worse, I accidentally stepped on shattered glass.

The sharp pain shot through my foot, and the metallic tang of blood mixed with the smell of rain. It was too much to bear. My knees buckled and I fell to the ground, crying uncontrollably in the storm.

A pair of headlights approached in the distance, growing brighter as they neared.

Instinctively, I closed my eyes. In that moment, I dared to hope—

"Charles, is it you…?"

The car drove right past me.

That faint hope shattered entirely, and I laughed bitterly through my tears. How ridiculous. He was probably celebrating with his precious Susan right now.

Just as I was about to pick myself up, a black umbrella suddenly appeared over my head.

For a moment, I dared to hope again. My voice trembled as I murmured, "Charles, you…?"

When I looked up, it wasn’t his familiar face. Instead, I saw a stranger—handsome, with striking features and sparkling peach blossom eyes.

"Do you need help?" he asked gently, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t worry, I’m not a bad guy. I saw you fall on the road and wanted to see if you were okay."

The deserted road was drenched in rain, and the only sounds were the relentless pounding of water against the ground and the occasional crack of thunder.

At first, I was on guard, uneasy about being alone with a stranger.

But as I looked at him standing there, holding a black umbrella tilted toward me, I noticed how one of his shoulders was already soaked because he had shifted the umbrella to cover me.

Gradually, my defenses lowered.

"I… stepped on some broken glass, and I can’t get a ride. The city is still six or seven miles away," I admitted, my voice breaking as my nose stung with suppressed tears.

He extended a clean, white hand toward me and said warmly, "Let me take you home."

Just as I was about to lean on his support and hop on one leg, the next second, I was swept up in a pair of strong arms. He held me in a princess carry, one arm supporting me effortlessly while the other held an umbrella over us.

The faint scent of sage surrounded me.

It was the first time I’d ever been carried by a man other than Charles and I could feel my face burning.

His voice resonated from his chest, steady and low, "Pardon me."

I was soaked to the bone, resembling a drowned rat, while the interior of his car was pristine and immaculately clean—luxurious in an understated way.

Yet, he didn’t show the slightest sign of discomfort as he settled me into the backseat.

He even handed me a blanket.

Embarrassed, I hesitated to take it, shrinking into myself.

"I’m completely drenched… and dirty," I murmured, my cheeks flushing.

He didn’t leave room for argument, draping the blanket over me with a firm kindness.

"What’s more valuable, a blanket or a person?"

Having spent three years with Charles, I’d learned to discern someone’s family background through their outward appearances.

The black shirt he wore, I recognized—it was a brand whose lowest tier cost at least fifty thousand yuan.

Clearly, he came from a family of wealth and influence. Yet, unlike Charles and his crowd, there wasn’t a hint of arrogance or disdain for ordinary people in him.

He even thoughtfully adjusted the car’s temperature to make it warmer.

As we approached the city, I realized he wasn’t heading toward my neighborhood. Instead, he stopped at a hospital.

What kind of upbringing produces a man like this?

He carried me into the emergency room.

When the doctor used tweezers to remove the glass shards embedded in my foot, he covered my eyes with his hand.

And, as if performing a magic trick, he produced a cup of hot milk for me.

Even the nurse couldn’t help but tease, "Miss, your boyfriend is so attentive! With someone like him, you’re bound to be happy."

Blushing, I quickly corrected him, "He’s not my boyfriend."

The nurse nodded knowingly—or so I thought—before flashing a thumbs-up at him behind my back.

"Good luck!" she mouthed to him.

I rubbed my temples and gave up on explaining.

By the time we reached my apartment complex, it was already past 11 p.m.

His car stopped just outside.

Feeling awkward, I realized I had nothing to repay him with.

"Thank you so much for tonight. If possible, could we exchange contact information? I’d like to properly thank you later."

His voice, deep and soothing, replied, "That’s not necessary. Just don’t let yourself get into such a pitiful state again. People are what matter most; everything else is secondary."

On this stormy night, when everyone else had turned a cold shoulder to me—including the man I loved—this stranger gave me a warmth.

Of course, he would deeply regret refusing to exchange contact information a year later.

When I opened the door to my apartment, the lights were bright, illuminating every corner.

Charles sat lazily on the sofa, his expression unreadable.

But when he saw me limping inside, my dress filthy and tattered, there was a flicker of emotion on his face.

"Why are you such a mess?" he asked, standing as if to help me.

I sidestepped him, avoiding his touch.

"I’m tired. I just want to take a shower."

I could feel his gaze on me as I moved. To him, I was like a pet—a stray dog that had wandered out into a storm and returned home for punishment.

It had been a dark, stormy night, yet he hadn’t thought to call me, let alone look for me. Instead, he had stayed here, waiting.

But this time, I was truly exhausted.

After my shower, I emerged from the bathroom to find him already lying in bed.

In the past, I would’ve climbed into his arms, finding comfort in his embrace.

But tonight, I didn’t want to.

Who knows how long that embrace had belonged to another woman earlier today?