Jack was my senior in college, and our meeting was quite a coincidence.

Every November, our school had a "Women's Month." Female students could write their wishes on cards and hang them on a wishing tree. Boys would then pick the cards and fulfill the wishes.

Jack happened to pick up my card and fulfill my small wish.

Later, we discovered we were both students of the same professor. Frequent encounters led to growing familiarity, and eventually, we ended up together.

Jack's family wasn't wealthy. His parents divorced when he was young, and he lived with his mother.

To lighten the family's financial burden, he often took on various part-time jobs during college, so he didn't have much time to spend with me.

One Christmas, I had planned for him to spend the evening with me. That day, I started getting ready early, and we had agreed to meet at six. By five, I left home with a gift for him.

The gift was the latest iPhone I had saved up for. His phone was three years old and often ran out of battery, making it hard for me to reach him.

It snowed heavily that day. To keep the date special, I wore only a short coat. The snowflakes blew into my boots, making my skin feel cold and damp. I waited at the school entrance until nine, rubbing my hands and stamping my feet.

His phone was unreachable—probably dead again.

Eventually, I left the gift at his dormitory building and headed back. After ten, he finally called me to come downstairs.

I was too angry to move, and he just stood there. Eventually, seeing his figure in the snowy haze softened my heart.

When I got there, he hugged me tightly, his cold body pressing against mine. "I'm sorry, Josephine. The restaurant was so busy tonight that the manager offered me triple pay!

"I didn't mean to ignore your calls. You know my phone is so old, I never know when it's out of battery.

"I got your gift. Look, I'm using it now. You don't have to worry about me not answering anymore. I promise I'll never ignore your calls or messages again.

"Forgive me. Look, I even bought you some coffee on my way back."

I forgave him easily over a cup of cold coffee.

At that time, I believed that his picking my card out of thousands was a special fate that brought us together.

Later, I accidentally learned from classmates that the boys would take their backpacks and collect the cards from the tree at night.

They would then sort through the cards and pick out the cheapest and easiest wishes to fulfill.

Indeed, my small wish was just for a candied apple.

No wonder he picked my card out of thousands—just a candied apple could satisfy me, and a cup of cold milk tea could placate me. My sincerity and thoughtfulness were, in his eyes, nothing more than cheap and foolish.

When he graduated, he failed the graduate school admissions test and couldn't find a job. He cried to me about how useless he felt.

I rented a place for him, provided for his food and drink like a mother, and supported him emotionally as he prepared for a second attempt. Predictably, he failed again.

By then, I was in my senior year. He told me graduate schools were too hard to get in, and after two years of trying, he still hadn't succeeded. He suggested I should join him in taking the civil service exam since my senior year had fewer classes. He proposed we apply for the same position so we could commute together and enjoy a nine-to-five life.

So, for an entire year, I accompanied him to the library every day, taking care of his needs like a personal assistant. I helped him gather job information and organize study materials, fearful of wasting any of his study time.

Looking back now, I realize that convincing me to apply for the same job was just a way to exploit my free labor.

Later, when the exam results came out, I scored first, and he scored third. The position only had two openings. Although he made it to the interview, his lower written exam score left him with little chance of success.

That day, he knelt at my feet, rubbing my hand but not meeting my eyes. "Josephine, I feel so useless. It's been a year since graduation, and I've achieved nothing. I don't have the face to go home and meet your parents."

I thought he was lowering his head in shame for not being able to provide a good life for me. So, to help him succeed, I willingly gave up my interview opportunity. Only later did I realize he was avoiding my gaze because he was hiding his calculating and deceitful eyes.

He eventually succeeded in the exam with the second-highest score and, the next day, broke up with me.

I looked at Jack, standing in front of me three years later. It seemed like he hadn't changed at all. I turned away and left without saying a word.

As soon as I got home, I saw a friend request from him "I really have my reasons. Please forgive me.

"My mom made me do it back then. She thought you didn't have a stable job and weren't good enough for me.

"Now that you've got yourself sorted out, she definitely won't stand in our way. Can we start over?"

I couldn't help but frown. It seemed he had changed—he'd gotten bolder and more disgusting. How could he think I would still be hung up on him?

I immediately blocked him and had no intention of responding.

But clearly, I underestimated his audacity. The next morning, just as I arrived at work, I saw a huge bouquet of roses at the office entrance, with a yellow helmet peeking out from behind the flowers. "Is there a Ms. Roberts here?"

My colleagues, seeing the commotion, looked at me with curious eyes.

I had a bad feeling and quickly got up from my desk to approach the delivery guy. As I got closer, I noticed there was a card among the crowded flowers "Can I try to win you back?"

The nauseating words almost made me lose my breakfast.

Of course, my colleagues couldn't resist teasing me. "Looks like there's something going on."

"Is it the guy who was waiting for you yesterday after work?"

"Looks like our serious Josephine has finally wised up."

…

I didn't want to delay and quickly pulled the delivery guy outside to tell him to take the flowers back. When I returned to the office, I explained that the delivery was a mistake, but everyone gave me knowing looks as if to say, "We get it, no need to explain."

Before long, nearly everyone at the office knew some guy was "pursuing" me. Even my boss, seeing me refuse another delivery of coffee from the delivery guy, joked, "Josephine, don't be too harsh. You're hurting the poor guy's feelings!"

After half a month, my refusal to acknowledge him only seemed to encourage Jack further. One night, well past eleven, I was at home enjoying some soup my dad had made when I received a call saying my car window wasn't closed, and he was watching it for me, urging me to go close it.

The voice on the line sounded familiar, but I didn't think much of it. I just thought it was kind and put on my shoes to head out. Although there wasn't anything valuable in the car, there were some important work materials.

Just before I left, my dad called out from the bedroom, "Josephine, why are you going out so late?"

"There's a good Samaritan who called to say my car window wasn't closed. I'm going to check," I replied.

Hearing this, my dad rushed out in a panic, "Wait! Haven't you seen the news? They're using these calls to lure you out. A young woman should have more caution! How can you think about moving out on your own like this?"

I was startled but also worried that my window was really open. My dad, seeing my concern, asked my brother to come with me.

When we went downstairs, we saw someone lurking near my car. The figure looked familiar. As I tried to get closer, my brother grabbed me and immediately dialed 911.