To Live In Our Separate Worlds

On the day I was supposed to get engaged to my childhood sweetheart, Noah Pratt, I escaped.

As I flew out of the country, I deleted all forms of contact with him.

Six years later, I had to return to oversee the moving of my parents’ graves.

At the entrance to the cemetery, I bumped right into Noah.

He gripped my wrist while gazing at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Why did you run away?” he asked. He had grown very thin. Heavy bags were under his eyes. It was as if haunting dreams had plagued his nights.

“Because I didn’t want to marry someone I didn’t love,” I replied.

He swayed on his feet as if the rug had been swept from under him.

“Is there anything else?” I asked.

But he remained silent. I waited patiently before walking past him.

I had not lied. Indeed, I had burned out that love for him in the first three years I spent overseas.

At the gate to the cemetery, I felt a strong grip on my wrist again.

Noah Pratt stood before me with bloodshot eyes.

“Virginia, let’s talk this through.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” I said coldly as I wrenched my hand out of his grasp.

His fingers twitched in midair, but he finally let his hand drop.

“How dare you come back here, Virginia?”

Noah’s best friend, Sheldon Baker, furiously took a few steps forward.

“Don’t you think you’ve caused Noah enough harm? Are you here to make trouble again because you heard Noah is planning to get engaged to Yvonne? I’m begging you, let him go.”

I had no intention of getting caught in this argument. I angled my body away to leave.

But Sheldon lost his cool and reached out to block my way. He shoved me so hard that I fell to the ground.

My elbows and knees stung.

Seemingly at the same time, Noah took a subconscious step forward and reached out as if to help me up.

He frowned. There was a look of hurt in his eyes.

“Don’t touch me.” I pushed his hand away and levered myself off the ground.

Noah’s hand remained hanging midair. His face was as white as a sheet.

“Noah,” a gentle voice called.

I looked over and saw Yvonne Hastings walking over from the car.

At practically the same time, Noah took a step back and put more distance between us.

Then, he walked toward Yvonne and draped his coat over her shoulders.

“You shouldn’t be out here. It’s so cold, and you’re not in good health.”

He smoothed the coat over her shoulders in a well-practiced motion.

Yvonne easily melted into his touch.

“You pamper me too much. It’s better for my health if I walk around more. Besides, I missed you. I want to be with you.”

Yvonne’s face reddened as her gaze fell on me.

“You’re finally back, Ginny.”

I did not answer. I simply raised my hand to hail a cab.

As I opened the door, Noah called out worriedly, “Virginia!”

But I did not look back.

The car set off. Through the rearview mirror, I saw Noah stand in place with a complicated look in his eyes as he stared after me.

A bit into the drive, the cabdriver started excitedly, “Excuse me, miss. Was that man back there, Mr. Noah Pratt of Portdale?

“His and his fiancee’s love story has spread through the entire city. According to what they say, his ex-fiancee dumped him, and he nearly lost it. It was lucky that he met his current fiancee.”

The cabdriver sounded very emotional. “I wonder if the woman who left him at the altar feels any remorse.”

“She wouldn’t,” I said neutrally as I looked at the scenery flying past in the window.

“Don’t be so certain. You’re not her.”

I lowered my head. My fingertips brushed the line of skin where there used to be a tan line from a ring. My heart was completely calm.

I was right. She did not regret it.

As I looked at that patch of skin, memories flooded in.

Everyone thought Noah was the prince of Portdale, who was born with a silver spoon.

Little did they know that, in the summer of his eighth year, I saw him curled up beside a frozen trash can.

I had stood at the mouth of that alley with my feet seemingly glued to the ground.

In the next second, I rushed over and dragged him back home by his freezing wrist with no room for protest.

That night, I had given him all the food on my own plate.

He had kept his head down the whole time. When I watched him swallow, I finally saw how difficult things were for him.

After that, I found out that his parents had only married because of a business arrangement. They had no feelings for each other.

At three years old, he had been shunted over to his father, but he was completely ignored. Even his nanny treated him poorly.

From that day on, I kept walking past that fateful alley.

Noah was not great with words, but he would always quietly follow behind me. He walked me safely home every day.