Chapter 1

Stella's POV

My boyfriend, Philip Lutz, looked down at me with a trace of a smile in his eyes. "Just because I was standing behind Mandy and not you just now? Stella, you're already 22 years old. Are you really going to make a fuss over something like this?"

I said nothing.

He continued with a hint of exasperation, "Mandy has issues with low blood sugar. In fact, her face was pale just now. Besides, we were taking our graduation photo, not our wedding photos."

I nodded. "Which is why I'm not making a fuss over it. I just want to break up."

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Sure," he said with a smile. "You'd better not come to me begging to get back together later on."

He was certain that this time would play out like the countless times before. He was sure that this breakup was just one of my antics born out of my tantrum.

That had indeed been the case in the past.

When he replied to Mandy Shickell's messages faster than he replied to mine, I would get jealous and propose a breakup.

When he escorted Mandy home instead of me after a class dinner, I would get angry and demand a breakup.

When Mandy came down with a fever, Philip would be the first person she called. I couldn't wrap my head around it, so again, I asked for a breakup.

Every time, he would tell me, "Stella, I'm the class president, and she's the class treasurer, so it's often inevitable that we have to work together."

Inevitable.

I'd been hearing that same word for four years, and now, I no longer wanted to hear it.

I turned to leave with my graduation flowers in hand.

Behind me, Mandy jogged up to stand next to Philip. "Stella's not at fault, Philip. She probably just cares too much about you. Why don't I explain things to her? I really didn't mean to make you stand behind me…"

Philip didn't go after me.

Instead, he remained where he was and replied to Mandy with affection, "There's no need for that. I know how she is—she's just being a diva. Let her stew for two days. She'll calm right down after I comfort her a little."

Two days?

Unfortunately, he was going to be disappointed this time because my flight overseas would be taking off in five days.

…

After returning to my dorm room, I placed the flowers in a nice spot.

I'd received the final acceptance notice from the research project team in Londashire, and I'd also signed the apartment lease.

I turned on my computer and organized all the relevant documents into a blue folder.

This was something I'd been readying behind Philip's back for the past six months.

During my sophomore year, there had been an opening for an exchange program, and I'd wanted to apply for it.

Philip had been busy with the student council election at the time.

After hearing me out, he'd simply asked, "Can you really bear to leave when things have only just started settling down around here? A year abroad is a long time."

I couldn't bear to leave, so I gave up on the idea.

I was faced with other choices throughout my college years—entrance exams during my junior year as well as internships and employment opportunities during my senior year. Every time, one question would immediately spring to my mind.

"What about Philip?"

He wished to stay in the city, and his parents also hoped that he would work at a financial company under the Lutz Group banner.

He once held my hand and mapped out my own future for me.

"Stella, since your grades are good anyway, you should just join your parents' company or pursue a local master's degree," he'd said confidently.

He felt that it was only natural that I stay for his sake.

I used to agree, at least until this spring, when a bout of gastritis landed me in the hospital with an IV drip attached to my arm.

I called Philip seven times, yet he answered none of my calls.

I later learned that Mandy's graduation thesis had been flagged for plagiarism, so Philip had stayed back in the college office overnight to help her revise it.

When he came looking for me the next day, he even massaged his brow while explaining, "Mandy's far from mentally resilient. If I hadn't stepped in, she'd probably have collapsed under the pressure."

"What about me?" I'd asked.

He'd been momentarily stunned, but then he'd smiled and pinched my cheek.

"Why are you comparing yourself to her? My dear Stella is the most independent lady I know."

At some point, my "independence" had become an excuse for the lack of care shown toward me.

That very night, I submitted my application to join an overseas research project.

My phone suddenly vibrated.

When I checked my phone, I saw a text message from Philip.

"We're holding a class farewell dinner at 6:00 pm tomorrow night. I'll pick you up."