"You want to sleep with me?"

　　Jerome Brook's hand on my waist was burning hot. His dark eyes locked onto mine, his throat rolling.

　　Just when I thought he was going to get angry, he nodded unexpectedly.

　　"Yeah."

　　Jerome gently kissed the corner of my eye, his voice hoarse.

　　"Aubrey Parker, I want you, but I also want to love you."

　　***

　　The oatmeal container swayed in my shaking hand as I froze at the office door, witnessing Tristen Sterling kiss a girl passionately in a tight embrace.

　　His friends around erupted in applause and cheers.

　　"Thanks for being here today, guys. You have all witnessed my successful proposal to Eliza Ahmed. Please come and join us for the engagement party tomorrow."

　　"Sure! Tristen, everyone knew you had your eyes on Eliza all along."

　　"You've already got the engagement party set up? Couldn't wait, huh?"

　　Tristen smiled as the girl shyly nestled in his arms and lightly punched him twice.

　　"Aubrey..."

　　Someone called my name, and the lively atmosphere turned ice-cold.

　　I steadied my breath, pushed the door open, and walked in.

　　The woman in his arms tried to pull away, but Tristen held her tighter.

　　I pretended not to notice and spoke in my usual gentle tone.

　　"You said your stomach hurt this morning, so I made you oatmeal..."

　　"Let's break up. I have grown tired after all these years, and besides, I have always loved Eliza. She has accepted my proposal."

　　Tristen cut me off expressionlessly.

　　I lowered my gaze and stared fixedly at his hand.

　　A brand-new ring gleamed on his middle finger.

　　Our promise ring now floated in a glass of whiskey on the table.

　　My eyes flicked to the faint hickey on his neck. My throat felt raw as I forced out the words.

　　"And me? What were these five years to you?"

　　"Just a way to kill time." Tristen chuckled carelessly.

　　Six ruthless words crushed me, stripping away every last shred of dignity.

　　My heart ached with pain.

　　I slowly tightened my grip on the thermos. "Fine. Then we're done."

　　"Leave the oatmeal. Eliza hasn't eaten yet."

　　I paused for a moment, then brushed past his outstretched hand, and threw it straight into the trash.

　　Ignoring Tristen's darkening expression, I turned around and walked away quickly.

　　At that moment, the love I had clung to for five years finally shattered.

　　All the rumors and whispers over the years—maybe I should've seen this coming.

　　***

　　As soon as I got in the car, the dizziness overwhelmed me. I leaned back, closing my eyes for a brief moment when my phone buzzed.

　　It was a message from Tristen's group chat.

　　I'd begged him for weeks to add me to the group chat, though he'd done it reluctantly.

　　"Tristen, Aubrey loves you so much. Why don't you just take her back? She looks as good as any celebrity."

　　Tristen's reply burned my eyes: "She's boring in bed."

　　"I bet she'll come crawling back to you. She'll probably even settle for being your mistress."

　　"She has been following you since she graduated from college. Will she come to disrupt your engagement party tomorrow?"

　　"Dare she ruin my engagement party, she won't even get the chance to be my mistress."

　　I could picture the smug, mocking expression on Tristen's face as he typed those words.

　　But the next second, all the chats were retracted.

　　They seemed to remember that I was still in the group chat.

I moved my fingertips slightly and decisively left the group without hesitation.

　　Not a single ripple stirred within me anymore.

　　Eliza Ahmed. Her name used to sit pinned at the top of Tristen's chat list.

　　At that time, Tristen lied and said she was his sister, and I didn't ask any further.

　　We had known each other for nearly ten years, and for the first time, I came to know that he was also very loyal.

　　Along the way, the nauseating feeling churning in my stomach suppressed a lot of sadness. The moment I got out of the car, I blacked out.

　　When I woke up in the hospital, I learned that it was the kind-hearted driver who had brought me here.

　　One night passed.

　　The phone held nothing but Tristen's message: "The apartment is yours. 33,000 dollars wired to your account. Reach out if you need anything."

　　The TV blared with Tristen and Eliza's lavish engagement ceremony, dominating every channel.

　　It was said that the engagement banquet cost millions of dollars.

　　He had waited for Eliza for so many years, so naturally, he had to give her the best.

　　I shifted my gaze away from the television, closed my eyes, trying to suppress the bitterness in my heart, and checked out of the hospital alone.

　　As the New Year approached, even the hospital exuded a sense of joy.

　　I was the only one, feeling cold and lonely all by myself.

　　***

　　Returning to the apartment and looking at our room, I knew that Tristen had not come back.

　　I wondered, "Of course, he's clinging to Eliza 24/7 now. Zero chance he's returning."

　　When I left, I only took a few garments and threw the ring I had worn for five years into the trash.

　　The bank card he once used to fund my education and the apartment key lay abandoned on the table where we used to share breakfast.

　　Perhaps he would never set foot here in his lifetime, but at least I had a clear conscience.

　　Lugging my suitcase, I strode into the velvet night and headed straight for Wardburg, the city that had shimmered in my college dorm daydreams.

　　Almost all of my friends went to Wardburg after graduation.

　　On the plane, I dreamt of the time when I graduated from college. Tristen was holding a bouquet of roses and smiled at me.

　　"Stay, Aubrey. My company needs you."

　　In the midst of my strong surprise, I did not notice the difference in this sentence.

　　Because of his words, I gave up the idea of finding a job in Wardburg with my friends and stayed by Tristen's side.

　　When he saved me from danger, told me not to cry while holding me in his arms, and promised to support me to finish college, I fell in love with him.

　　In the past five years, I helped him make the Sterling Group bigger as his assistant.

　　As his girlfriend, I used to wake up at 5 o'clock every morning to make oatmeal for him, because he had a stomachache.

　　The man who used to have stomachaches whenever he drank alcohol now became a president, who had no scruples.

　　All debts and devotions dissolved when I walked out of that apartment.

　　I thought I didn't owe Tristen anything.

　　***

　　As soon as we got off the plane, my friends who had been waiting at the airport dropped off their luggage and immediately took me to a bar.

　　After a few drinks, the lingering effects of alcohol made me quickly run to the bathroom to wash my face, and my drowsy head became slightly clearer.

　　I read the message my mother had sent ten minutes ago, feeling helpless.

　　"Aubrey, it's almost New Year. Don't forget to bring your boyfriend home! If you dare to deceive us, you'll be in big trouble!"

　　I helplessly rubbed my throbbing forehead. We had already broken up, so how could I bring him home?

　　I put away my phone and walked unsteadily towards the exit. Accidentally, I bumped into someone and quickly apologized.

"Sorry."

　　I was about to leave when unexpectedly, the man maliciously blocked my path and reached out to touch my arm.

　　"You think bumping me and tossing a 'sorry' cuts it? Get your ass to my booth and drink with me first."

　　The man reached out to put his arm around my shoulder, but instinctively I raised my hand and slapped him.

　　"Get lost!"

　　The man's face darkened, and he looked at me with a cold smile, saying, "You want the hard way? So be it."

　　He raised his hand, and my heart tightened. Suddenly, a pair of hands tightly grabbed his hand.

　　As my gaze followed the hands, a face both familiar and unnervingly altered came into focus.

　　It was Jerome, that corporate lawyer Tristen had consulted on business ventures years back. We'd crossed paths once at a deposition.

　　He naturally stood in front of me.

　　"Representing Ms. Parker now. Given her current disarticulated homicide situation, your case could make a compelling appendix to my filings."

　　The man's face changed, and he looked at me warily and unwillingly ran away.

　　I forced out a smile and said, "Mr. Brook certainly has ... inventive methods for crisis management."

　　"As long as it works." Jerome gave a half smile.

　　"Thank you, Mr. Brook. Next time, I will treat you to a meal." I casually waved my hand and prepared to leave.

　　Unexpectedly, Jerome grabbed my wrist and looked at me, his lips trembling.

　　I didn't know why, but suddenly I remembered Tristen's comment: "She's a dead fish in bed."

　　A strangled breath trapped between a gasp and a choke.

　　I stumbled towards him, my eyes blurred from drunkenness, and reached out my hand to trace the contours of his face, full of coquetry.

　　***

　　Everything happened as it should have.

　　When Jerome pressed me against the hotel door, the warm breath that hit my face was filled with the smell of alcohol.

　　He breathed heavily, staring at me intently. His large hand caressed my waistline.

　　"You still have room for regret."

　　I felt dizzy and wasn't clear-minded.

　　I didn't speak, but instead, I wrapped my arm around his neck and pressed my red lips against his.

　　As my lips parted, Jerome's arm tightened around my waist, reversing our positions with predatory swiftness.

　　My eyes turned red, and I sobbed quietly, leaving numerous red marks on his back.

　　A tear slid down the corner of the eye and into the hair.

　　My eyelashes trembled, and Jerome leaned down to kiss me. The tenderness and affection in his eyes left my mind blank.

　　The next morning, as soon as I opened my eyes, I saw numerous text messages from my friends.

　　I quickly turned over and got out of bed, looking at myself in the mirror, which took my breath away.

　　Purple and blue love bites testified to the intensity of the previous night.

　　I quickly bent down to put on my clothes and picked up the stockings from the bed, when suddenly a pair of big hands pressed on me.

　　I looked up and met Jerome's ambiguous gaze, suddenly feeling a bit guilty.

　　"Aubrey, you don't want to run, do you?"

　　I struggled a few times, but Jerome held onto my stockings tightly. I was speechless and pretended to speak toughly.

　　"We are all adults. Mr. Brook, you must understand what is called a fleeting romance, right?"