Chapter 1

On the day the Cannes Film Festival ended, it coincided with the funeral of an old friend. Pictures of Luke Smith attending the funeral with his child went viral on the internet.

In the photo, Luke was holding the hand of a little girl, about three or four years old. She had a remarkably beautiful oval face, and when she smiled, two sweet dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth.

Luke publicly stated that she was his daughter.

The media quickly noticed that this little girl's smile bore a striking resemblance to my younger self, even down to the angle of her arched eyebrows.

Rumors had long circulated that Luke's current wife couldn't conceive.

The media immediately thought of me because, before Luke married his current wife, our names were always linked together, and our past was widely covered in the headlines.

'Luke Smith and Hazel Jones's passionate car kiss'

'Luke Smith and Hazel Jones spotted together in Iceland'

'Luke Smith accompanies Hazel Jones to the film festival'

Our sweet past had now transformed into icy daggers, piercing the most delicate layers of my heart.

It wasn't until later, when the headline 'Luke Smith and Hazel Jones Airport Argument' went viral, that we became the top trending topic of the year.

That marked our last public appearance. The public's speculation about our relationship remained uncertain. At that time, most were just bystanders, mocking my initial audacity in trying to climb the social ladder in this city, ultimately leading to my own downfall.

As time went on, opinions shifted unpredictably. Few remember that when news of my relationship with Luke Smith first came out, it was these same people who filled screens with phrases like "perfect couple" and "storybook romance."

However, fiction always stays fiction, and the harsh reality before us is the undeniable truth.

"Ms. Jones, we've heard that you broke up with Mr. Smith just over a month ago, and shortly after, he announced his engagement. Could you share your thoughts on this?"

"Ms. Jones, there have been rumors that Mrs. Smith is unable to conceive. Can you confirm whether you are indeed the biological mother of Mr. Smith's daughter?"

"Ms. Jones, we've heard that you shared a mutual friend with Mr. Smith at the funeral. You chose not to attend the funeral. Was it to avoid encountering Mr. Smith, or is there more to the story?"

"Mr. Smith publicly stated that you two had an amicable breakup, yet there haven't been any public sightings of you together since. Is there a hidden secret that the public is unaware of?"

The barrage of questions assaulted my ears like a blizzard, causing my eardrums to buzz. My manager stood in front of me, fending off the reporters who surged forward like a tidal wave. "We won't be answering any personal questions. Please focus on Hazel's work," my manager declared.

Surrounded by security guards, I was escorted to the waiting car parked by the roadside. We were encircled by a tight security cordon, and the reporters couldn't squeeze their way in.

Then, a voice rang out loudly, "Hazel, I heard you're getting engaged next month. Will this affect your engagement plans?"

I came to a gradual halt, fixing my gaze on the reporter who had posed the question. I recognized her; she was a frequent figure in the world of tabloids, known for her sharp and probing inquiries. My manager, Susan, had advised me to steer clear of her if possible.

Her stare was penetrating, as if she could see right through my thoughts and shatter my self-esteem.

"I'm not well-acquainted with Mr. Smith, so in that case, I wish him and Mrs. Smith a lifetime of happiness and a harmonious family," I replied calmly.

"I'll be having an engagement ceremony next month, and if Mr. Smith is willing, I extend a warm invitation to him," I added with a smile, maintaining a composed demeanor. Finally, I concluded with an expressionless statement, "Mr. Smith is leading a happy life now, and so am I."

Camera flashes were going off non-stop, and the blinding lights from all directions had the potential to blind anyone. They seemed determined to scrutinize every subtle nuance on my face, hoping to uncover any lingering sorrow.

Before the trending headline ‘Hazel Jones, Cannes Best Actress’, there was another one that came before it—'Hazel Jones Talks About Luke Smith Again’. After four years, our names were once again intertwined.

Upon seeing the news, my mom wasted no time in approaching me as soon as I arrived home.

"These reporters really know how to dig up old news from years ago just to create a sensation. They're even willing to compromise their dignity for a story. Darling, don't let this get to you. Focus on preparing for your engagement next month."

"I've already bought everything, and your engagement gown will be delivered in a couple of days. As for you, take a break from work during this time and give yourself some rest."

Over the years, she had become increasingly knowledgeable and attentive to my life. She had transformed from an elderly lady who had never touched a mobile phone into a savvy fan who knows how to like, share, and comment.

I nodded lightly, "Understood. I'll head upstairs for a nap to adjust to the time difference."

She gazed at the photo on her phone, the one showing Luke holding the little girl's hand, and couldn't help but sigh, "You two were so good together back then, how did it all of a sudden..."

I abruptly stopped in my tracks, feeling a sudden twinge of sadness in my nose. In that moment, a surge of emotions overwhelmed me, my heart pounding.

Memories flooded back, the seven years with Luke, filled with both laughter and sorrow, felt like a series of tumultuous waves, devouring reason. In the end, it was as if they had confirmed that old saying.

Our fate was nothing more than "Two souls, worlds apart."