He Likes Them Pure

"Mr. Levine, about that StellarVision project you mentioned earlier—I want in."

Mr. Levine was taken aback for a moment. "Are you sure? Once you join, you won't be able to contact anyone outside for at least five years.

"Didn't you turn me down last time because you said you were planning to marry your boyfriend after graduation?"

As I stood in front of the mirror, I traced the faint bruises and marks scattered across my skin. I plastered a smile on my face and responded, "I'm not getting married anymore. From now on, I just want to focus on my study and career."

After noticing how resolute I was, Mr. Levine didn't try to persuade me any further. "The transport to the base leaves in three days. You should use this time to say goodbye to your boyfriend. After all, you two are engaged."

I nodded and looked down at the ring on my finger. Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought to myself, "Yeah… We are engaged."

While I was lost in thought, my phone buzzed. I received a message from my boyfriend, Zayne Jefferson. "Why aren't you replying? Come out and hang with me." The address he sent was the same bar I had just been to.

I didn't respond right away. Instead, I booted up my laptop to double-check my application form. Once I was sure everything was good, I headed out to meet him.

"What took you so long?" Zayne lazily asked as he leaned on the couch. He was obviously upset about me keeping him waiting.

"I couldn't get a cab, so I had to wait for a bit." I casually made up an excuse. I was about to sit next to him when he wrapped his arms around my waist and ordered, "Get up. That isn't your spot."

His words flipped a switch, and the room erupted in laughter.

"That's right, Emilia. That's not your spot," Zayne's childhood friend chimed in with a smirk. "You should sit on his lap, not the couch!"

Everyone else joined in with mischievous grins. "Exactly, Emilia. Look around—our dates are all sitting on our laps."

I glanced around and indeed noticed that most of the guys had scantily clad women draped over them.

When they caught me looking, the men became even more brazen, their breathing growing heavier and filling the room.

Zayne's childhood friend gave me a pointed look while groping the woman in his arms. "Don't just stand there, Emilia. Take care of Zayne, too!"

I didn't say a word, but my heart sank.

I recognized these women—they were Hooters girls while I was Zayne's fiancée—or at least that's what I was supposed to be.

I touched the engagement ring on my finger and looked at Zayne, who hadn't said a word the whole time. I was waiting for him to say something—anything. But he just kept his gaze on his drink, acting like he didn't hear the mockery in his friends' words.

It wasn't until the room fell completely silent that Zayne reluctantly reached out his hand and half-heartedly comforted me, saying, "They're just joking. Don't take it to heart."

When I didn't respond, he adopted a stern tone and told the others to cut it out before tugging me down to sit beside him. "Alright, chill out. I'll tell them off next time."