Chapter 1

Cole's POV

The moment I stepped out of the elevator, I received a call from my girlfriend, Giselle Harris.

"Don't take Harry's words to heart, Cole," she said the second I answered. "He's always been like that. He doesn't think before he speaks."

I hummed in response, tightening my grip on the phone.

"Then why does he have a key to your apartment?" I asked.

Giselle's breath hitched before she answered, "He's renovating his place. I'm just letting him stay with me for a few days."

"There are hotels nearby."

"I have spare bedrooms. Why would I make him stay in a hotel?" she snapped, her voice sharp with irritation.

A second later, she sighed, making it sound as if she was giving in. "You've always been so understanding, Cole. Can we just drop it?"

I didn't let it go. "Then, why did you take wedding photos with him? Why is one hanging near the door where anyone who enters your apartment can immediately see it?"

Giselle's face twisted.

"What are you trying to say?" she demanded furiously. "Are you interrogating me right now? It's just a photo. It's not a marriage certificate. Why are you making such a big deal out of it? Harry was right. You're nothing but drama. I'm glad I never gave you a key to my apartment!"

She hung up right after.

I stared blankly at the screen. I couldn't help but think how pathetic I looked when I noticed my reddened eyes.

When I left the building, I ran into Giselle's best friend, Millie Oakley. She looked a little surprised to see me leaving.

"We've already bought beer, Cole. Where are you going?" she asked.

I forced a tight smile as I came up with a lie. "There's a package that I need to sign for."

Millie nodded before pulling out a key from her bag and offering it to me. "You can just let yourself in later."

My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible force as I stared at the key. It turned out that all of Giselle's friends had a key to her apartment. I was her boyfriend, yet I was the only one who didn't have one. On top of that, I wasn't even allowed to enter her apartment.

Giselle didn't talk about personal space, boundaries, or respect when it involved her best friend, Harry Larson, and her other friends. She only brought it up with me.

I remained silent for a few seconds before waving my hand, saying, "Thanks, but I don't need it anymore."

I didn't give Millie a chance to respond before I turned and left.

The strong wind stung my eyes. Just as I slid into the back seat of a cab, Harry sent me a video.

A huge plate of fried chicken wings was placed in the middle of the coffee table. Everyone was seated around it.

Giselle sat in the center. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, the corners of her lips curled into a relaxed smile.

Harry was leaning against her. He held a glass of beer to her lips, and she fed him a chicken wing.

Her friends' laughter never ceased.

"Harry, why don't you and Giselle just date already? You two are perfect together."

Harry clicked his tongue, placing his glass of beer heavily on the table. "How will she know how good I am if she doesn't have someone to compare me to? She'll come crawling to me when she gets tired of that drama king."

"I don't think that's going to happen."

Harry slammed his hands on the table and looked at Giselle. "Tell them, Giselle!"

Giselle wiped the grease from the corner of his mouth. She smiled and said, "I would have chosen Harry if I had known that Cole was such a drama king."

The screen darkened, but her words continued to echo in my ears.

Five years ago, when Giselle was pursuing me, she told me that I had a warm smile. She said that she could hold my hands for the rest of her life because of how warm they were. She also said that I was good-natured, easy to get along with, and had the makings of a good husband.

I knew she had been sincere when she said those things. However, her sincerity disappeared in the face of Harry's demands.

The driver turned to look at me before I got out of the cab. He offered me a tissue and said, "Wipe your tears, kid. There's nothing that you can't overcome."

I was briefly stunned before I thanked him in a low voice. He was right. There was nothing that I couldn't overcome.

After tossing the tissue into the trash, I sent Giselle a message.

"Let's break up."