Chapter 2

“It’s too bulky. Not as handy as the one Stella picked up at the flea market.” That was what he had said back then.

Ironically, it was with these “bulky” shears that he had created his award-winning piece.

The box held countless design sketches I had drawn through sleepless nights. Some of their edges had yellowed with age.

Night after night, I would revise them under the lamplight. He would only spare them a cold glance and say, “Redraw.”

I threw the sketches into the trash.

My hands trembled as I discarded the first one.

By the tenth, I felt nothing.

In the end, I threw the shears away too.

My phone suddenly vibrated with a notification from my Instagram feed.

Alexander had posted a few photos.

He and Stella were kissing beneath the Eiffel Tower. They were silhouetted against Paris’s dazzling night skyline.

They were smiling radiantly, and the caption read, [Love’s coronation—a life without regrets.]

I stared at the screen. Suddenly, my vision went dark, and I collapsed onto the floor with a loud thud.

Right then, a sharp, twisting pain seized my stomach. It was the price of seventy-two hours without rest.

I had even forgotten to eat while rushing to finish his final collection.

My phone buzzed again, and it was a message from Alexander.

[Where’s the brocade I brought back? I need to show it to the Vogue editor tomorrow. Bring it over now.]

I was in too much agony to answer, so I curled up further on the floor.

Ten minutes later, a second message came through. It was harsher than the first.

[Are you still sulking? Evelyn, could you at least pretend to care about your career? Stop acting like some bitter, jilted woman!]

I gritted my teeth as I struggled upright and typed a reply.

[Alexander, we’ve broken up.]

As soon as I sent it, I blocked his number and turned off my phone.

I went back to clearing out the wooden box and threw everything out. By the time I was done, I collapsed onto the floor again.

Around midnight, someone unlocked the door.

Alexander barged in and reeked of alcohol. His clothes carried the faint rose perfume that Stella always wore.

“What’s wrong with you?!” he roared when he saw the mess on the floor.

I just looked at him in silence.

He strode over and grabbed my wrist. His hand landed exactly where I had injured myself on the sewing machine a few days earlier. The wound was still bandaged.

He squeezed hard, and blood began to seep through again.

“It’s just a ring! Are you seriously this petty?” he spat through gritted teeth.

I ignored the pain and pointed at the lingering perfume scent on him. “You slept with Stella, didn’t you?”

He froze for a second, then scoffed. “Stop being unreasonable. I only drank because I was in a bad mood!”

Staring at his icy expression, I suddenly felt a strange sense of relief.

Ten years of love ended in that moment.

“I’ll resign from the studio tomorrow,” I uttered each word deliberately. “You owe me, and I won’t let a single debt go unpaid.”

He released my hand and let out a short, scornful laugh. “What can you possibly do? Without me, you’re nothing.”

...

The next day, I arrived at the studio to find my workspace cleared out. All my belongings had been dumped in a leaky storage room.

My design drafts, material portfolios, and even award ceremony photos lay discarded in the corner. Some were already waterlogged.

A decade of effort had been tossed aside like trash.

While I crouched down to gather my things, a pair of high heels stopped in front of me.

“Eve, this position belongs to me now.”

I looked up to see Stella standing there. She was wearing the gown I had originally designed to be my celebration dress.

“The gown doesn’t suit you,” I said as I stood and brushed the dust off my skirt.

She smirked, and her eyes sparkled with smug satisfaction. “Alex says it’s the most perfect design he’s ever seen for me.”

I said nothing and continued packing my belongings.

“Oh, right, Eve. Take a look at this.” She pulled a contract from her bag and held it out to me. “Wasn’t international expansion your dream?”