Chapter 4

Hearing those words, I immediately pulled away, escaping that warm and gentle shoulder. I stared at my mother, my eyes wide. As the tears flowed even faster, I used the back of my hand to wipe a streak across my face. I was angry and sad. I could not stand it.

"Even you. Even you. You think my love is just childish."

My mother hurried to defend herself. "Ava, I only want what is best for."

I screamed in anger. "Enough, I want to be alone."

"Ava."

I looked up at my mother with tearful eyes, the person I had always trusted. I thought that because she gave birth to me, she would understand me. But I never expected that she would also.

"Please, Mom, I want to be alone. I will be fine tomorrow."

My mother looked at me with eyes full of sympathy.

Pity. I never wanted pity at a moment like this. I thought my mother would understand, but no. She was just like the others, treating my feelings like a joke.

"Ava, stay strong, my child. Tomorrow is a new day. Goodnight."

My mother walked toward the door, her steps slow as if she were waiting for me to say something.

The door finally closed. The room sank into a tragic silence.

I slumped to the floor, the tears from my eyes streaming continuously down my face.

Heaven knows, I wished a ten thousand times over that I was not an eighteen-year-old girl. I wished I were older so that I could pursue him, so that everyone would recognize the love I had for him.

The barrier of age. Do people not say that love knows no age? Why is it impossible to accept my love? It is so unfair.

I lay on the bed and took out my phone to post a sad status. I waited for him to message me with concern and questions as he usually did. But no.

Ten minutes. Twenty minutes passed, and I received no reply from him. Although many people liked and commented, I did not care. I only posted the status to get his attention.

Feeling neglected, I clicked on my photo gallery. It was filled with pictures of us. I intended to delete them, but I could not bring myself to do it. Then my finger moved to a photo of me kissing his cheek. The corners of my mouth curled as I looked at the enlarged image. This photo reminded me of the memory when I first learned I had been accepted into university. He took me out to eat, to the movies, and to the park. That day was the happiest day of my life, the day I thought I had stepped through the door of adulthood, thinking that from now on I could openly pursue him. Thinking that he would accept my love.

Before I knew it, my face was drenched in tears again. I thought they would stop flowing. I had been crying all afternoon.

I gently caressed his face through the phone screen. Every feature was perfect. Why. Why not me? Why would you rather accept a marriage to a woman you do not love, whom you have only met once, instead of accepting me?

You said you would wait for me to grow up.

You are a liar.

Adults always deceive children.

I hate you.

I resent you.

I prepared to hurl my phone against the wall, but as my arm rose into the air, I pulled it back. I placed the phone against my chest. The light from the screen still reflected his smiling face.

It hurts.

How can I forget the man who spent the most brilliant years of my youth with me?

Even the smallest things were met with his care, protection, and devotion. So why.

The memories of the past dozen years played like a slow-motion movie in my head. Oh, it turned out I had relied on him so much that he could guess my mood just by looking at my expressions and gestures.

He turned me into a little princess without me even realizing it. It was that tenderness and pampering that made me fall into a bottomless pit, gradually losing my way with no path back.

If he leaves me, I will have to be independent for everything. I smiled bitterly.

Ava, is he really this important to you?

Once again, I opened my phone. That green dot was still there, but he was no longer rushing to message me.

Do you really not care about me anymore?

Or are you busy explaining things to your fiancée right now?

The thought made my heart wrench.

Uncle, you will never know how much I love you.

I turned off the phone, and the room gradually sank into infinite darkness.

I closed my tired eyes, realizing it was late and I had to sleep. I had to forget him.

Yes. I must forget him.

Throughout the past week, I posted a sad status every day, but he did not bother to care. We had never been this distant.

The wound in my heart, instead of healing, grew more painful every day.

I changed my profile picture to black and my cover photo to black, but he did not notice. Is he that angry with me? Or is he busy preparing for his engagement ceremony?

Those thoughts clung to me, causing me pain and constant restlessness.

Just then, a senior from my school messaged me to confess his feelings. I brushed it off without reading it. But then I thought of him and felt frustrated. I wanted to go somewhere to let it all out.

A dark thought crossed my mind.

I immediately clicked to view the message. It was Luciel. He was a year ahead of me, and we were in the same club at school. During several club activities, I noticed him proactively approaching me with an unusual look in his eyes, so I was not surprised by his confession. I quickly replied.

"Want to go to a bar?"