During high school, Dylan and I were desk mates for three full years.

I still remember when Dylan chose to study liberal arts in university.

Our homeroom teacher was puzzled, given his outstanding grades in science subjects.

Dylan glanced at me and said he wanted to make films.

I remained silent.

Back then, I was too insecure to even voice the most common dreams of youth.

Later, Dylan submitted a story I had written to a writing contest on my behalf.

He spread the winning certificate in front of me, pointing at the name "Naomi Sloan" on it, saying:

"Don't be afraid, Naomi. Look, you really are talented."

Back then, when sunlight streamed through the classroom windows, he always liked to nap facing me.

One day, as I was writing an outline, he mumbled with half-closed eyes:

"In the future, you'll write scripts, and I'll turn them into movies. We'll never be apart."

We were young then, truly looking forward to the future.

I even believed for a while that it would be our future.

It was pouring rain on the day of our SATs.

When I walked out of the exam hall, Dylan was already waiting for me with an umbrella.

Watching our classmates celebrating wildly in the rain, I nudged him:

"Dylan, why don't we go crazy too?"

He moved closer to me, tilting the umbrella almost completely over me:

"No way, your period is coming soon. You can't risk catching a cold."

My face flushed hot. Looking at our classmates coming and going, I felt a twinge of sadness:

"Dylan, after graduation, we won't be able to see each other every day anymore."

He gazed into the misty rain and chuckled softly:

"We're just graduating, not breaking up."

The rain was so loud that I thought I might have misheard. I wanted to confirm:

"What did you say?"

"If you didn't hear it, forget it."

Dylan lifted his chin proudly.

Even until we parted ways, he never repeated those words.

—

Jeffery poured a glass of wine and handed it to me, gesturing with his chin.

"Old friends reuniting; go on and toast to him."

Hearing this, Dylan's usually cool and noble features took on a hint of darkness.

He reached out to stop my glass.

"No need. Don't make her drink. She's not good with alcohol."

I blinked hard, fighting back the sting in my eyes, and lifted the glass.

"It's okay; I can drink now."

He paused for a moment, then chuckled softly as he raised the glass a waiter had brought him, his voice low.

"Hmm, all grown up now."

Jeffery's hand around my waist tightened. He looked down at me, his gaze direct, filled with mockery and disgust.

"Mr. Carter."

He smiled, leaning down to kiss me lightly.

"Naomi and I have pleasant matters to attend to; we'll take our leave first."

Jeffery's words were suggestive.

My face turned pale.

Dylan reached out and gripped Jeffery's arm.

The back of his hand tensed, veins bulging, indicating just how furious he was.

But when he turned to look at me, his tone softened considerably.

"Naomi, do you want to go with him?"

Jeffery smiled carelessly, putting the choice in my hands.

"Darling, he's asking you. Do you want to come with me?"

I felt my whole body trembling slightly, my fingertips pressing hard enough to dig into my flesh.

It wasn't until Dylan spoke again that I was pulled back to reality.

I could barely look at him, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Dylan, we'll make a move first."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I didn't dare linger.

I left with Jeffery, arm in arm.

Jeffery angrily threw me into the car. I instinctively tried to escape, but he grabbed my wrist forcefully.

In the next moment, he pinned my hands down and pushed me onto the back seat.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Jeffery clenched his jaw, smiling as he lowered his voice.

"What? You see your old flame once, and you've gone out of my control?”

Seeing his frenzied state, I struggled a few times.

"Jeffery, calm down. Don't do this."

"Why are you pretending? It's not like we haven't slept together before."

"Why act like such a chaste woman? Putting on a show for Dylan?"

Jeffery gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him.

His grip was so strong that it brought involuntary tears to my eyes.

"Naomi, should I remind you just how slutty you are?"

My mind went blank.

It was as if I was back to that terrifying night seven years ago.

On my 18th birthday, Dylan had already made plans with me.

He was going to take me for a ride along the coastal road on his bike.

His red ears told me there might be a surprise waiting for me.

But life is like a cliché movie.

You never know when the plot will suddenly take a turn for the worse.

That day, I put on my favorite dress and even applied some lip gloss.

But as I was leaving, I ran into Jeffery, who had just returned from a trip.

His eyes were bloodshot.

He grabbed me and pulled me back inside.

Then he started tearing at my clothes like a madman.

I dared not recall the scene in detail.

I only remember curling up on the bed.

He took photo after photo with his phone, then grabbed my hair.

Forcing me to open my eyes and look at my own disgraceful state.

"You like him? Want to be with him?"

"Without my permission, how dare you like anyone? What right do you have to like anyone?"

"Say something, Naomi! How dare you!"

I stared at him with hollow eyes.

In extreme pain, it seems, one has no tears left to cry.

Finally, he let me go.

His smile faded as he stared at me ominously.

"My dear sister, don't dream of leaving me, and don't hope for happiness."

"You can only stay by my side to atone!"

"I'm sure you don't want these photos sent to him, do you?"

"I think he would be utterly disgusted with you."

But how could Dylan ever be disgusted with me?

Yet I was afraid.

Afraid of causing him trouble.

Dylan had a bright future ahead. Why should he be tainted because of me?

Suddenly, Jeffery laughed softly, pulling me back to reality.

He leaned in and said maliciously,

"Naomi, let's do it right here, shall we?"

"Let your beloved see just how slutty you really are."

As soon as he finished speaking, he tore open my dress.

—

"Bang!"

The car window shattered.

I was crying.

Desperately, I looked at the person I had thought of a thousand times.

"Dylan, don't look at me."

--

Just when my mind was blank and I was nearly in despair, the weight on me suddenly lifted.

Jeffery, who had been pinning me down, was violently pulled from the car.

He stumbled a few steps before losing his balance and falling to the ground.

I was still crying, terrified and gasping for air.

Dylan took off his suit jacket and draped it over me.

His eyes seemed to be brewing a storm, but his movements were exceptionally gentle.

His large hand, with its distinct knuckles, rested on my back, patting softly.