Chapter 2

"Are you seriously not going after her, you hopeless romantic?"

Nolan let out an icy laugh. "She's just throwing a tantrum. If I actually go after her, what about you?"

He shrugged like it was obvious. "Besides, she has no one to rely on except me. She's way easier to deal with than you."

My heart felt like it had been split open. His words cut through me like a knife, slicing into wounds that had never fully healed.

Six years ago, right there, Nolan had confessed to me. He told me I was the one he wanted for the rest of his life.

Truth be told, it had not been easy for him to win me over.

When I was fifteen, my parents both remarried and started new families of their own. I became the extra piece no one wanted to talk about.

I resisted relationships and I resisted the idea of building a family.

I turned him down five times.

The last time, I was living alone when a stranger started following me. I did not even realize how dangerous it was until it was almost too late. Nolan showed up just in time and took the guy down. He got hurt in the process and ended up in the hospital.

After the nurse finished bandaging him, his eyes suddenly turned red.

"Whitney, why do you always act so tough?" he said, his voice tight. "Why won't you let me protect you?"

At that moment, something inside me softened.

I thought that maybe being with someone like him, someone strong and gentle, would not be so bad.

That very night, he asked me out again and brought me back there to confess.

When I finally said yes, the calm, composed Nolan I knew completely lost it. He hugged me like a kid and spun me around in circles.

We got so dizzy that we both fell to the ground.

Even then, he held me tight, shielding me with his body.

We sat together on the steps outside and, under the moonlight, he swore that as long as he was there, I would never be alone again, never abandoned again.

However, the wound I had gathered the courage to show him, the one that had only just begun to heal, had been ripped open again. This time, he drove the knife in himself.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

Then I opened the email that had been sitting in my inbox for five days, just hours away from expiring.

[Whitney agrees to transfer to headquarters.]

So those words were not that hard to type after all.

I looked up at the moon, half-hidden behind thin clouds.

"Nolan, I'm not that easy to handle. And from now on, I won't need you to handle me at all," I told myself.

I booked my ticket for the afternoon of the second, so I did not have much time left. The moment I got back to the apartment, I quickly cleaned myself up and started packing.

There were not many of my things to begin with, so it did not take long. One large suitcase and one small one were enough.

At three in the morning, I booked a hotel for a temporary stay. Just as I was about to leave, I ran straight into Nolan, who had just gotten back from partying.

He helped a completely drunk Silvia onto the couch, then handed me a bag of pears.

"Good, you're still up," he said. "She drank too much. Make her something to help sober up or she's going to be a mess all night."

I stood there and did not move.

Back when we first moved in together, he had come home drunk one night, throwing up nonstop. I felt bad for him and got up in the middle of the night to make something warm to help his stomach. However, the pot I used was of poor quality. The moment it hit the heat, it cracked. Boiling soup and broken shards splashed all over me.

When he saw it, he sobered up instantly.

Looking at my burns, he was both heartbroken and full of guilt.

From that day on, he never let me step into the kitchen again.

There was even a time when he was sick and wanted something light, he ordered takeout instead of letting me cook.

For years, I never stepped into the kitchen. Even fruit was always washed and handed to me by him.

To this day, there was still a sign hanging on the kitchen door that he had made himself.

[Kitchen Area. Whitney Not Allowed.]

I let out a small, mocking laugh and pulled the sign down, tossing it straight into the trash. "Sorry," I said flatly. "That's not my responsibility. If she wants something, order takeout."

With that, I grabbed my suitcase and headed for the door.

However, he suddenly grabbed my wrist and pushed me back against it.

"Alright, Whitney. Saying it is one thing, but why are you actually packing?" he said, frowning. "I told you. It was just an April Fools' joke. Stop messing around."

His voice softened. "I know you want to marry me soon. I do too. Next year. We'll definitely get married next year, okay?"

The faint smell of alcohol lingered on his breath as it brushed against my neck.

However, this time, I did not melt like I used to. I pushed him away and slapped him.

"Nolan, I've made myself very clear, we're breaking up. I'm not marrying you."

That slap did not just wake him up. Even Silvia, sprawled on the couch, seemed to sober up a little.