I asked to stay over 4 times in 4 years. He said no every time. "We're not married yet. I want to respect your space." Then I saw the photo. My intern—the one who stole my work—posted a picture of her feet in my slippers. Standing in his living room. He gave her the spare key. Made her instant ramen—the same late-night snack he always made for me. Drank wine with her—and he never drinks. When I confronted him, he called me petty. "She's just a tenant," he said. "Show some empathy." Two days later, he posted a video in our company Slack. Apologizing for me. Telling everyone I bullied her. Destroying my reputation—for her. I called him. He didn't answer. She did. "Julian's asleep," she purred. "He's been with me all night." Four years I gave him. Four years of waiting, of respecting his boundaries. And he threw me away the second someone new smiled at him. I packed one bag, deleted every photo, and blocked his number. A man not worth waiting for—good riddance. I complained when Julian Brooks rejected my request to stay over—for the fourth time. "Julian, you're so rigid." My apartment's AC had died in the middle of a hun//dred-degree heatwave. Yet he insisted on being old-fashioned about it. Throughout our four years together, no matter how late it got, he always insisted on driving me home. Julian sighed and tried to soothe me. "Be sweet, Chloe. We aren't married yet, and I want us to respect each other's space. I don't want anyone at the office gossiping about us living together." My heart warmed at his words, so I fell right back into our usual routine, venting to him about the recent drama at my office just like I always did. But he kept checking his watch, clearly distracted, and urged me to head back. Fortunately, the HVAC technician found a sudden opening and rushed over to my place. While waiting for him to finish the repairs, I happened to scroll through my Instagram feed and saw a post from our company's new marketing intern, Savannah Cross. [My landlord suddenly canceled my lease, but thank god someone stepped up to help. Otherwise, I'd be sleeping on the streets.] I recognized the background of her photo immediately. It was Julian's apartment. I stared at my phone screen, completely frozen. I stood there so long the technician finished fixing the unit and carefully lowered the thermostat. "Too hot for you, kiddo?" He looked at me with a sympathetic sigh. "Tell you what, I'll knock twenty bucks off the bill. Take it from an old man—there's no rough patch in life you can't get through." Only then did I realize tears were streaming down my face. I forced a smile. "Thank you. You're absolutely right." Julian was a rough patch I was finally moving past. ****** Savannah's photo only showed her legs and her luggage. She was wearing my slippers, standing right inside Julian's living room. The moment I stepped out of his apartment, she stepped right in. Before leaving, I had playfully begged Julian to let me stay. He refused without a second thought. "Chloe, you need to go home. I have urgent work to finish in a bit." As it turned out, there was no urgent work. The only urgency was Savannah. She was the new intern in my department, and we hadn't been getting along. I mentioned this to Julian before. But he never seemed to care, let alone listen. I had no idea Julian even knew Savannah. He'd never mentioned her. Yet it was glaringly obvious that she was spending the night at his place. Another red notification popped up on my screen as Savannah updated her feed again. [Meeting a soft-hearted god at my absolute worst. Blessed.] This time, Julian was in the photo. He was looking down at her with a helpless, fond smile. Two bowls of instant ramen with Spam sat on the table. On weekends, when Julian and I curled up together, that was the exact late-night snack he always made for me. Now, he was making it for Savannah. Savannah's comment sat right beneath the post, smug and flaunting. [Rent is two hun//dred, utilities are free, and no deposit. Best landlord ever.] Landlord. He had let Savannah move in. A sharp, suffocating pain flared in my chest, stealing my breath. To make his commute easier, Julian had rented a two-bedroom apartment near the office. It was a great place—twenty-five hun//dred a month. It used to be a shared rental, but his old roommate had moved out, and they hadn't found a suitable replacement. Worried the rent would be too much, I suggested moving in to split the cost. He flatly refused. "Chloe, I won't take your note, and I don't think it's right to move in together before marriage." It wasn't right for me, but it was perfectly fine for Savannah. I remembered those boundaries so clearly. The first time I asked to stay over was during our honeymoon phase, and Julian strictly turned me down. The second time, I came down with a sudden high fever. Julian still drove me back to my place, watched me take my medicine, and left the moment I fell asleep. The third time was the worst—someone had left a strange mark on my apartment door. I was losing my mind with fear, but Julian still wouldn't let me stay at his place. Instead, he booked me a hotel room. He spent the next day contacting landlords, agents, and movers, ensuring I relocated to a new apartment within twenty-four hours. Four years, and I couldn't get into Julian's place. Savannah managed it without lifting a finger. I had to admit his "traditional" boundaries were reserved exclusively for me. My phone buzzed with a text from Julian. [Goodnight.] No explanation. No mention of her. [By the way, I found a new roommate. She's moving in tomorrow under an emergency circumstance.] [Chloe, make sure to let me know in advance before you come over from now on.] Staring at the text, I wanted to laugh. But my tears hit the screen first. I wiped my eyes and didn't reply. Savannah posted a third update. One photo showed her clinking wine glasses with Julian, and the other was a selfie where their cheeks were practically pressed together. [Celebrating the new place. Here's to the future, Mr. Brooks.] Late at night. An unmarried man and woman. Living together. Julian never touched a drop of alcohol. Yet he was drinking with her tonight. In an instant, all the determination holding my heart together vanished. It was all so pathetic. I didn't text Julian for the next two days. He didn't seem to notice. It wasn't until later that week, when a sudden torrential downpour hit right at the end of the workday, that our paths crossed. I was waiting for an Uber under the office awning. Savannah was standing right next to me. She was holding her phone, whining cutely to whoever was on the other end. "Can you pull up a little closer? Hurry, the wind is freezing..." A car pulled up right in front of us. Entirely too familiar. Sure enough, the window rolled down to reveal Julian in the driver's seat. He hadn't sent a single text to check on me during this storm, yet he'd rushed over to pick up Savannah. Julian froze when he caught sight of me. "Chloe, you..." Savannah closed her umbrella, opened the door, and hopped straight into the passenger seat. "Julian, you actually know Chloe?" She looked out at me from the dry comfort of the car, her smile radiating sweetness. "Chloe, why don't you get in? Let Julian give you a ride. It's impossible to get an Uber in this weather." My own boyfriend was offering me a ride, and only because she'd graciously granted him permission. Julian remained silent, merely looking at me. I shook my head expressionlessly. "No need." My ride was already confirmed and only three minutes away. No reason to get in that car just to make myself sick. Savannah nodded and rolled up the window. The car lingered for a few seconds before driving off into the rain. When I finally got home and stepped out of the shower, I found Julian waiting in my living room. He still had the code to my smart lock. "Chloe, are you throwing a tantrum?" "When you refused to get in the car, I thought you were just busy, but the more I thought about it, the more off it felt." Julian reached out to grab my hand, but I stepped aside, dodging him. "Is this about me picking up Savannah today?" "Or because I didn't let you stay over the other night and didn't drive you home?" He let out a helpless chuckle. "Don't be so petty. Savannah's an old classmate. I only picked her up because I was passing by—and it's hard to say no when she asks." "Not letting you stay over was for your own good. I promise I'll drive you home next time..." "Julian, let's break up." Julian stiffened, his face instantly darkening. "Chloe, over something this minor?" "Yes." My eyes were entirely dead. "I can't stay at your place, but Savannah can. Don't you find that hilarious?" He'd never intended to tell me about her because he knew exactly how I'd react. "You... let me explain." Julian's eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting me to already know. "Savannah moved to the city all by herself from a small town, and I'm the only person she knows here." "It's tough for a young girl, and her landlord suddenly kicked her out. If I hadn't stepped in, she'd be on the streets." "Chloe, you're a woman too—show some empathy." Seeing my silence, he let out a heavy sigh. "It's just an emergency temporary stay. Besides, there's nothing going on between us, so we don't need to overcomplicate things." "She's different from you. She's just a tenant." "Just a tenant?" I laughed. "Julian, I told you before that Savannah is the new intern in my department." "During her first week, she spent every single lunch break on the phone in the breakroom. When people teased her about it, she claimed it wasn't a boyfriend, just an old classmate." "That old classmate was you, wasn't it?" Julian's eyes flickered with guilt for a fraction of a second, but he didn't deny it. I used to love sharing things with him, flooding his phone with texts whenever I had a free moment. But his replies were always agonizingly slow, if they came at all. We'd fought about it a few times. Back then, Julian would just look exhausted and say, "Chloe, we're adults. Work is busy, and I need to rest during lunch. Can you stop making things difficult for me?" But when it came to Savannah, it was never difficult. "For the past two days, Savannah started bringing homemade lunches to work. You made those for her too, didn't you?" "And you're still trying to tell me she's just a tenant?" Those lunchboxes were a matching couple's set I'd bought, left behind at Julian's apartment. Now, Savannah was using them. Julian knitted his brows, completely unable to comprehend my anger. "Chloe, aren't you reading way too much into this?" "Don't be prejudiced against Savannah. She told me there was just a misunderstanding between you two at work..." He didn't listen to a single word I said, but he took everything Savannah said as gospel. I had nothing left to say. The silence in the room grew suffocating until the doorbell suddenly rang. Julian turned to open it. A second later, Savannah poked her head in, smiling warmly at me. "Hi, Chloe. Sorry to drop by unannounced." My gaze pierced right through Savannah and landed coldly on Julian. "You brought her here?" Savannah couldn't have found my address on her own. Julian stood beside her, deliberately avoiding my eyes. "Chloe, Savannah isn't the kind of person you think she is." "Since there's a misunderstanding, you two should just talk it out..." I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "I spent two weeks pulling all-nighters for our latest marketing campaign, and she intentionally deleted my name from the pitch deck. You call that a misunderstanding?" I was the lead on that project, and Savannah was only supposed to assist me. After all my hard work, she secretly wiped my version from the shared drive history and submitted the campaign under her own name. I'd confronted her directly, but I couldn't recover the deleted file history in time to prove it to management. The drama had caused a massive stir in the office. "Chloe, you shouldn't bully me just because I'm the new intern." "That campaign was clearly my..." Savannah's eyes welled with tears, her voice trailing off vulnerably. "Forget it. You're Julian's girlfriend, and I don't want things to be tense between us. I definitely don't want you two fighting because of me." "Let's just say it was my fault. I apologize." Heartache flashed across Julian's face. "Savannah, I know what kind of person you are. Right is right." He turned to me, his tone hardening. "You shouldn't have to compromise yourself just for my sake." Then he looked straight at me. "Chloe, just apologize to Savannah, and we can all move past this." The final trace of agonizing heartache vanished from my chest. I felt entirely, completely numb. "Julian, let me make this incredibly clear. We are broken up." "Now, take your little friend and get the he11 out of my apartment." Savannah flinched, tears cascading down her face as she clutched the edge of Julian's jacket, shrinking behind him. Julian's expression turned vicious and mocking. "Chloe, are you seriously trying to threaten me with a breakup? You honestly think I'll just bow down to that?" "You are completely unhinged." He grabbed Savannah's hand and pulled her out the door. The door slammed shut with a deafening thud. I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained of energy. Right then, my phone rang. It was my mom. "Chloe, are you really moving back home? Did something happen out there?" "No, Mom. I already turned in my resignation. I'm just wrapping up my files over the next two days before heading back." "Did you and Julian have a fight?" "No fight. We broke up." I'd already been thinking about changing companies anyway. And after the nightmare with Savannah, I immediately submitted my two weeks' notice. Our director thought he'd struck gold with Savannah, so he approved my departure without a single complaint. My mom went quiet for a few seconds. "Broken up... well, as long as you've thought it through." "It's good that you're coming back. Your dad and I won't have to constantly worry about you getting mistreated out there." My throat tightened, and my eyes stung. "Mom, don't worry about me." "I've already been looking at job openings, and there are plenty of great marketing agencies back home..." "I'm not worried about the job, sweetie. Just don't push yourself too hard." A lump formed in my throat, leaving me completely speechless. I'd hoped to spend my last two days in the city in peace. But Savannah had no intention of letting me go quietly. Just as the workday ended, the company Slack workspace absolutely exploded. Savannah had dropped a video into the main public channel. The person in the video was Julian. His face was dead serious, completely devoid of any playfulness. "Regarding the recent campaign pitch, I am formally apologizing to Savannah Cross on behalf of my girlfriend, Chloe Vance."
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The Reading Circle ran this video ad since Jun 26, 2026, 134 days so far, targeting United Kingdom.
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I asked to stay over 4 times in 4 years. He said no every time. "We're not married yet. I want to respect your space." Then I saw the photo. My intern—the one who stole my work—posted a picture of her feet in my slippers. Standing in his living room. He gave her the spare key. Made her instant ramen—the same late-night snack he always made for me. Drank wine with her—and he never drinks. When I confronted him, he called me petty. "She's just a tenant," he said. "Show some empathy." Two days later, he posted a video in our company Slack. Apologizing for me. Telling everyone I bullied her. Destroying my reputation—for her. I called him. He didn't answer. She did. "Julian's asleep," she purred. "He's been with me all night." Four years I gave him. Four years of waiting, of respecting his boundaries. And he threw me away the second someone new smiled at him. I packed one bag, deleted every photo, and blocked his number. A man not worth waiting for—good riddance. I complained when Julian Brooks rejected my request to stay over—for the fourth time. "Julian, you're so rigid." My apartment's AC had died in the middle of a hun//dred-degree heatwave. Yet he insisted on being old-fashioned about it. Throughout our four years together, no matter how late it got, he always insisted on driving me home. Julian sighed and tried to soothe me. "Be sweet, Chloe. We aren't married yet, and I want us to respect each other's space. I don't want anyone at the office gossiping about us living together." My heart warmed at his words, so I fell right back into our usual routine, venting to him about the recent drama at my office just like I always did. But he kept checking his watch, clearly distracted, and urged me to head back. Fortunately, the HVAC technician found a sudden opening and rushed over to my place. While waiting for him to finish the repairs, I happened to scroll through my Instagram feed and saw a post from our company's new marketing intern, Savannah Cross. [My landlord suddenly canceled my lease, but thank god someone stepped up to help. Otherwise, I'd be sleeping on the streets.] I recognized the background of her photo immediately. It was Julian's apartment. I stared at my phone screen, completely frozen. I stood there so long the technician finished fixing the unit and carefully lowered the thermostat. "Too hot for you, kiddo?" He looked at me with a sympathetic sigh. "Tell you what, I'll knock twenty bucks off the bill. Take it from an old man—there's no rough patch in life you can't get through." Only then did I realize tears were streaming down my face. I forced a smile. "Thank you. You're absolutely right." Julian was a rough patch I was finally moving past. ****** Savannah's photo only showed her legs and her luggage. She was wearing my slippers, standing right inside Julian's living room. The moment I stepped out of his apartment, she stepped right in. Before leaving, I had playfully begged Julian to let me stay. He refused without a second thought. "Chloe, you need to go home. I have urgent work to finish in a bit." As it turned out, there was no urgent work. The only urgency was Savannah. She was the new intern in my department, and we hadn't been getting along. I mentioned this to Julian before. But he never seemed to care, let alone listen. I had no idea Julian even knew Savannah. He'd never mentioned her. Yet it was glaringly obvious that she was spending the night at his place. Another red notification popped up on my screen as Savannah updated her feed again. [Meeting a soft-hearted god at my absolute worst. Blessed.] This time, Julian was in the photo. He was looking down at her with a helpless, fond smile. Two bowls of instant ramen with Spam sat on the table. On weekends, when Julian and I curled up together, that was the exact late-night snack he always made for me. Now, he was making it for Savannah. Savannah's comment sat right beneath the post, smug and flaunting. [Rent is two hun//dred, utilities are free, and no deposit. Best landlord ever.] Landlord. He had let Savannah move in. A sharp, suffocating pain flared in my chest, stealing my breath. To make his commute easier, Julian had rented a two-bedroom apartment near the office. It was a great place—twenty-five hun//dred a month. It used to be a shared rental, but his old roommate had moved out, and they hadn't found a suitable replacement. Worried the rent would be too much, I suggested moving in to split the cost. He flatly refused. "Chloe, I won't take your note, and I don't think it's right to move in together before marriage." It wasn't right for me, but it was perfectly fine for Savannah. I remembered those boundaries so clearly. The first time I asked to stay over was during our honeymoon phase, and Julian strictly turned me down. The second time, I came down with a sudden high fever. Julian still drove me back to my place, watched me take my medicine, and left the moment I fell asleep. The third time was the worst—someone had left a strange mark on my apartment door. I was losing my mind with fear, but Julian still wouldn't let me stay at his place. Instead, he booked me a hotel room. He spent the next day contacting landlords, agents, and movers, ensuring I relocated to a new apartment within twenty-four hours. Four years, and I couldn't get into Julian's place. Savannah managed it without lifting a finger. I had to admit his "traditional" boundaries were reserved exclusively for me. My phone buzzed with a text from Julian. [Goodnight.] No explanation. No mention of her. [By the way, I found a new roommate. She's moving in tomorrow under an emergency circumstance.] [Chloe, make sure to let me know in advance before you come over from now on.] Staring at the text, I wanted to laugh. But my tears hit the screen first. I wiped my eyes and didn't reply. Savannah posted a third update. One photo showed her clinking wine glasses with Julian, and the other was a selfie where their cheeks were practically pressed together. [Celebrating the new place. Here's to the future, Mr. Brooks.] Late at night. An unmarried man and woman. Living together. Julian never touched a drop of alcohol. Yet he was drinking with her tonight. In an instant, all the determination holding my heart together vanished. It was all so pathetic. I didn't text Julian for the next two days. He didn't seem to notice. It wasn't until later that week, when a sudden torrential downpour hit right at the end of the workday, that our paths crossed. I was waiting for an Uber under the office awning. Savannah was standing right next to me. She was holding her phone, whining cutely to whoever was on the other end. "Can you pull up a little closer? Hurry, the wind is freezing..." A car pulled up right in front of us. Entirely too familiar. Sure enough, the window rolled down to reveal Julian in the driver's seat. He hadn't sent a single text to check on me during this storm, yet he'd rushed over to pick up Savannah. Julian froze when he caught sight of me. "Chloe, you..." Savannah closed her umbrella, opened the door, and hopped straight into the passenger seat. "Julian, you actually know Chloe?" She looked out at me from the dry comfort of the car, her smile radiating sweetness. "Chloe, why don't you get in? Let Julian give you a ride. It's impossible to get an Uber in this weather." My own boyfriend was offering me a ride, and only because she'd graciously granted him permission. Julian remained silent, merely looking at me. I shook my head expressionlessly. "No need." My ride was already confirmed and only three minutes away. No reason to get in that car just to make myself sick. Savannah nodded and rolled up the window. The car lingered for a few seconds before driving off into the rain. When I finally got home and stepped out of the shower, I found Julian waiting in my living room. He still had the code to my smart lock. "Chloe, are you throwing a tantrum?" "When you refused to get in the car, I thought you were just busy, but the more I thought about it, the more off it felt." Julian reached out to grab my hand, but I stepped aside, dodging him. "Is this about me picking up Savannah today?" "Or because I didn't let you stay over the other night and didn't drive you home?" He let out a helpless chuckle. "Don't be so petty. Savannah's an old classmate. I only picked her up because I was passing by—and it's hard to say no when she asks." "Not letting you stay over was for your own good. I promise I'll drive you home next time..." "Julian, let's break up." Julian stiffened, his face instantly darkening. "Chloe, over something this minor?" "Yes." My eyes were entirely dead. "I can't stay at your place, but Savannah can. Don't you find that hilarious?" He'd never intended to tell me about her because he knew exactly how I'd react. "You... let me explain." Julian's eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting me to already know. "Savannah moved to the city all by herself from a small town, and I'm the only person she knows here." "It's tough for a young girl, and her landlord suddenly kicked her out. If I hadn't stepped in, she'd be on the streets." "Chloe, you're a woman too—show some empathy." Seeing my silence, he let out a heavy sigh. "It's just an emergency temporary stay. Besides, there's nothing going on between us, so we don't need to overcomplicate things." "She's different from you. She's just a tenant." "Just a tenant?" I laughed. "Julian, I told you before that Savannah is the new intern in my department." "During her first week, she spent every single lunch break on the phone in the breakroom. When people teased her about it, she claimed it wasn't a boyfriend, just an old classmate." "That old classmate was you, wasn't it?" Julian's eyes flickered with guilt for a fraction of a second, but he didn't deny it. I used to love sharing things with him, flooding his phone with texts whenever I had a free moment. But his replies were always agonizingly slow, if they came at all. We'd fought about it a few times. Back then, Julian would just look exhausted and say, "Chloe, we're adults. Work is busy, and I need to rest during lunch. Can you stop making things difficult for me?" But when it came to Savannah, it was never difficult. "For the past two days, Savannah started bringing homemade lunches to work. You made those for her too, didn't you?" "And you're still trying to tell me she's just a tenant?" Those lunchboxes were a matching couple's set I'd bought, left behind at Julian's apartment. Now, Savannah was using them. Julian knitted his brows, completely unable to comprehend my anger. "Chloe, aren't you reading way too much into this?" "Don't be prejudiced against Savannah. She told me there was just a misunderstanding between you two at work..." He didn't listen to a single word I said, but he took everything Savannah said as gospel. I had nothing left to say. The silence in the room grew suffocating until the doorbell suddenly rang. Julian turned to open it. A second later, Savannah poked her head in, smiling warmly at me. "Hi, Chloe. Sorry to drop by unannounced." My gaze pierced right through Savannah and landed coldly on Julian. "You brought her here?" Savannah couldn't have found my address on her own. Julian stood beside her, deliberately avoiding my eyes. "Chloe, Savannah isn't the kind of person you think she is." "Since there's a misunderstanding, you two should just talk it out..." I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "I spent two weeks pulling all-nighters for our latest marketing campaign, and she intentionally deleted my name from the pitch deck. You call that a misunderstanding?" I was the lead on that project, and Savannah was only supposed to assist me. After all my hard work, she secretly wiped my version from the shared drive history and submitted the campaign under her own name. I'd confronted her directly, but I couldn't recover the deleted file history in time to prove it to management. The drama had caused a massive stir in the office. "Chloe, you shouldn't bully me just because I'm the new intern." "That campaign was clearly my..." Savannah's eyes welled with tears, her voice trailing off vulnerably. "Forget it. You're Julian's girlfriend, and I don't want things to be tense between us. I definitely don't want you two fighting because of me." "Let's just say it was my fault. I apologize." Heartache flashed across Julian's face. "Savannah, I know what kind of person you are. Right is right." He turned to me, his tone hardening. "You shouldn't have to compromise yourself just for my sake." Then he looked straight at me. "Chloe, just apologize to Savannah, and we can all move past this." The final trace of agonizing heartache vanished from my chest. I felt entirely, completely numb. "Julian, let me make this incredibly clear. We are broken up." "Now, take your little friend and get the he11 out of my apartment." Savannah flinched, tears cascading down her face as she clutched the edge of Julian's jacket, shrinking behind him. Julian's expression turned vicious and mocking. "Chloe, are you seriously trying to threaten me with a breakup? You honestly think I'll just bow down to that?" "You are completely unhinged." He grabbed Savannah's hand and pulled her out the door. The door slammed shut with a deafening thud. I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained of energy. Right then, my phone rang. It was my mom. "Chloe, are you really moving back home? Did something happen out there?" "No, Mom. I already turned in my resignation. I'm just wrapping up my files over the next two days before heading back." "Did you and Julian have a fight?" "No fight. We broke up." I'd already been thinking about changing companies anyway. And after the nightmare with Savannah, I immediately submitted my two weeks' notice. Our director thought he'd struck gold with Savannah, so he approved my departure without a single complaint. My mom went quiet for a few seconds. "Broken up... well, as long as you've thought it through." "It's good that you're coming back. Your dad and I won't have to constantly worry about you getting mistreated out there." My throat tightened, and my eyes stung. "Mom, don't worry about me." "I've already been looking at job openings, and there are plenty of great marketing agencies back home..." "I'm not worried about the job, sweetie. Just don't push yourself too hard." A lump formed in my throat, leaving me completely speechless. I'd hoped to spend my last two days in the city in peace. But Savannah had no intention of letting me go quietly. Just as the workday ended, the company Slack workspace absolutely exploded. Savannah had dropped a video into the main public channel. The person in the video was Julian. His face was dead serious, completely devoid of any playfulness. "Regarding the recent campaign pitch, I am formally apologizing to Savannah Cross on behalf of my girlfriend, Chloe Vance."
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On the night of his biggest award ceremony, I faced the worst betrayal of my life. My own mate, the Alpha I'd sacrificed my dreams for and served faithfully for five years, chose his new Omega assistant over me. He broke his sacred iron rule of "zero light pollution" just to let her light sparklers in the snow. Then, he publicly crowned her his "muse," leaving me to rot in the absolute dark. I nearly lost my soul waiting in the shadows outside his lens. So I severed our mate bond, packed my camera, and fled to the polar ice fields to reclaim my throne as a Chief Astrophotographer. He thinks he can chase me across the world to Iceland and beg for forgiveness? Poor Alpha... he has no idea the nightmare he's about to wake up to. Chapter 1 My mate, Alpha Callan Vale, was Silvercrest Pack's most gifted lunar astrophotographer. I had been his Luna for five years. But I had never once asked to go to his shooting sites. All because of the things he used to say. "The rule of lunar photography is zero light pollution. Even a single phone screen flash can ruin an entire long exposure night." So, for five years, I never dared to send even a simple text asking if he had arrived safely. I was afraid the screen light would ruin his masterpiece. I just waited at home. And every time he went into the snowy mountains or barren wilderness, I folded a star. Each note held thoughts I never dared say out loud, "Are you hurt?" "Waiting for you to come back." Five years. 1,096 stars. They filled three glass jars. But he never opened them. Last week, he was shortlisted for the International Lunar Sky Photography Awards. I was proud of him and opened the official site to view his entry. The photo was titled Light. In the center, his omega assistant wore a red expedition jacket, holding a sparkler, smiling brightly. The judges' commentary read: [The photographer willingly gave up a once-in-seventy-years rare comet to preserve full exposure for his muse.] So... his world wasn't without light. It was just that I wasn't allowed to shine. That night, I poured all 1,096 stars out of the jars. I lit them on fire and reduced them to ash. Listening to the flames swallow the paper, my inner wolf let out a painful whimper. At dawn, I placed the three empty glass jars neatly on top of his camera case. The universe always had room for countless stars to shine. I shouldn't have spent my life waiting for a glimmer outside someone else's lens. This time, I would capture my own galaxy. ... The next day, Callan's interview was scheduled for the afternoon. In the morning, he laid out the backdrop and neatly arranged his expensive lenses on the wall. "The Meridian Review is coming for a home interview. Clear out the clutter in the living room." Clutter—my books, and those three empty jars. I carried the books back into the bedroom. When I returned, he had already shoved the three jars into a corner with clear disgust. "What are these cheap jars for? They're hideous. Keep them out of the frame." "Just leave them there for now," I said softly. He didn't care enough to ask. At exactly three, the journalist arrived. Callan changed into the black shirt I had ironed for him last week and sat at his desk. I stayed in the kitchen, holding a cup of cold coffee. "Alpha Callan, Light stunned everyone. Can you talk about the story behind it?" Callan relaxed in his chair and spoke slowly. "That night's best viewing window was set for a once-in-seventy-years comet." "But the summit was freezing past midnight—sub-zero temperatures. My assistant, Nessa Snow, was shivering so badly that she lit a sparkler to stay warm." "The moment that flame sparked, I suddenly felt that those dead, cold rocks countless light-years away couldn't compare to the living warmth in front of me." The journalist asked in surprise, "But everyone in the industry knows you follow a strict rule of absolute zero light pollution." Callan smiled, a rare, soft smile that went all the way to his bones. An expression he had never once given me. "Rules are just rules. The moment that light lit up her face, I was willing to overturn every rule I had." Five years. I had waited through more than 1,000 nights in darkness. But for someone else's warmth, he personally lit the most blinding spark. The journalist flipped through the notes and turned to look at me. "Alpha Callan, what role does your Luna play in your career? Being the mate of a genius must require a lot of tolerance and sacrifice, right?" Callan followed her gaze toward me, his expression instantly flattening. "She doesn't understand lunar photography, and she doesn't understand the hardships of our field. But she's quiet and sensible, never causes trouble." My right hand slowly curled into a fist. The sense of betrayal made my inner wolf ache in agony. He forgot. He had completely forgotten. Five years ago, my starfield photo series had also won an international gold award. I had once been the most stunning, most gifted lunar astrophotographer of the Greyhaven Pack. Until I formed a mate bond with Callan. At first, we were aligned. But later he said Silvercrest didn't need two photographers. He needed a Luna to stabilize the Silvercrest Pack. To fulfill his pursuit of pure art, I locked my camera in a cabinet and shrank into the "ignorant" housekeeper he now described. Had he forgotten it all? After sending off the journalist, Callan stopped at the study door. "Upload the photos from my external hard drive to the shared cloud folder tonight. Nessa needs them for the upcoming art book." He closed the door behind him. I opened the laptop and plugged in the drive. Then my phone suddenly vibrated. Sender: Arctic Sky Journal. [Miss Voss, we reviewed your early photography portfolio again a few days ago. Your sharp perception of the universe is the exact soul we have been searching for.] [The position of chief lunar sky photographer remains open for you. Have you considered our offer?] I stared at the email, emotions flooding through me. It had been a very long time since anyone praised my talent. Someone on the other side of the world could still recognize the light in me. While the man sleeping beside me only saw me as a convenient servant. I opened the email. [Thank you for the offer. I look forward to working with you.] Callan, I was no longer waiting for your moon. This time, I'm going to capture my own galaxy. Chapter 2 The next morning, Callan threw an envelope onto the dining table. "The publisher needs twenty selected photos for a special feature in the art book. Pick them from the hard drive for me." "Me?" "Didn't you study photography a bit back then? You know a thing or two about composition and lighting. I have to coordinate with the award organizers over the next couple of days, so I don't have time." Great. Not just a housekeeper, now a free assistant too. I opened the hard drive. Inside the selection folder were over 300 photos. All Nessa. No auroras. No rare star maps. Only Nessa. Nessa wrapped in a sleeping bag at the entrance of a tent, watching the sunrise. Nessa crouching by a stream, washing her hands, her profile carved elegantly by the morning light. Every single image was carefully color-graded. I studied photography, so I knew. These 300-plus photos could only have been taken by someone deeply in love. I had been with Callan for five years, and he had never once pointed his lens at me. His excuse had always sounded righteous. "My lens is only for sacred, pure skies. I don't shoot the mundane." A lie. He simply didn't shoot me. As he headed out, Callan gave me another order. "Oh, and each photo in the book needs a short caption. Write them. Nessa isn't a good writer." He wanted me to personally pen romantic prose for twenty stunning, private photos of another she-wolf. "Okay," I said calmly. He left and closed the door. I opened the first photo. A frozen expanse of snow stretched out in every direction, and Nessa was standing there, alone in that bone-chilling cold. Callan slipped his heated gloves onto her hands, and she lit up like a child on Christmas morning. I stared at those hands and slowly looked down at my own right hand. My index and middle finger joints were swollen and deformed, marked with two patches of permanent dark purple frostbite scars. Four winters ago, in Lofoten. A blizzard so brutal it felt like the world had frozen over. To keep him from missing a rare meteor shower, I dug through knee-deep snow with my bare hands to retrieve a buried backup battery. The storm was too violent, and I slipped, instinctively lighting up my phone screen as I fell. That faint light lasted only one second. Just one second. Callan had rushed over from a dozen yards away, crushing me with his terrifying Alpha pressure, roaring at me. "Do you even understand what zero light pollution means? I waited four hours for this composition, and you ruined all of it!" I sat in the snow, my hands completely numb, suffering permanent nerve damage. I placed my hands back on the keyboard. Looking at Nessa's smiling face on the screen, I typed the first caption. [In the dead silence of the snowy wilderness, she is the only color more precious than the stars.] Typing those words, I felt no grievance, only a sense of the absurd. The man who once treated absolute darkness as his lifelong faith. Now, he wanted to use such blunt, cliché words to announce to the world that he had succumbed to the pollution of a cheap light. I would give him exactly what he wanted. I would make sure this humiliating caption was permanently printed in his photo book. These twenty lines of text were my annotation, as someone who truly understood photography, for his ridiculous faith. That night, after I sent all twenty captions to Callan, he replied with only one word: [Good.] I let out a mocking laugh, closed the document, and opened my email. [I'll arrive in Reykjavík in seven days for reporting.] Seven-day left. Chapter 3 There were three days left until the awards ceremony. In the afternoon, the doorbell rang. It was an international express delivery. The package wasn't sealed, so I saw the contents at a glance—an embossed certificate. Global Star Registry. It listed coordinates: [longitude 18°36′56″, latitude 38°47′01″.] Lyra constellation. Beneath the exact coordinates was a cursive name: [Nessa] Registration date—the same night he gave up the comet to shoot Light. At the bottom of the certificate was a small handwritten card from Callan. [Stars live for countless ages. This star is my permanent exposure, dedicated to you alone.] I stared at the card quietly. My inner wolf let out a self-mocking whimper. He had spent a fortune to buy a real star in the universe and named it after Nessa. It hung in the galaxy, beside Vega. I had folded 1,096 paper stars, and he had never opened a single one. Paper and the cosmos never carried the same weight. I closed the frame as it was and placed it calmly in the center of his desk. In the evening, Callan came back. When he saw the frame, his expression stiffened slightly. He quickly placed a photography book on top of it and forced a topic change. "The organizers want me to prepare a five-minute acceptance speech. Since you're just idling at home, write it for me." "What do you want to say?" "Write about a photographer's devotion to the absolute dark. Write about how I overcame every obstacle to banish light pollution." I picked up the pen and wrote smoothly. Because for the past five years, I had been the one staying in that absolute darkness with him, the one he pushed every trace of light away from. The next day, Callan posted his printed Iceland itinerary on the whiteboard. "After the ceremony, I'm flying to Iceland. It's the final window of the aurora season." "I've been planning this with Nessa for three months. There's an ideal observation spot there. Zero light pollution." What a coincidence. That was also my destination. "How long will you be there?" "Ten days." I looked at the red note on the last day of the itinerary: [Portrait shoot of Nessa under the aurora, continuation of the 'Light' series.] "Callan," I said without turning around, my voice completely flat, "you once said we would go to Iceland together to see the aurora." His hands stopped moving for a moment. His brows furrowed tightly. "Maren, why are you bringing up the past? Iceland drops below zero at night. Your hands ache the moment they freeze. Going there would just be pure misery for you." "And Nessa? She isn't afraid of the cold?" "She's a professional assistant! How is that the same? Can you please stop causing trouble for me right now?" "Got it." I suddenly didn't want to say another word. I turned away and stopped looking at him. I pulled out a small suitcase from under the bed. Inside were my passport, my visa, and a few heavy sweaters. This house was huge, but everything I could take fit into less than half a suitcase. Iceland... I was definitely going. Chapter 4 That night was the awards ceremony. I didn't go to the family section. I took a staff pass and stood in the shadows at the back of the hall. On the giant screen, Light played—Nessa smiling radiantly amidst the fireworks. Callan, in a perfectly tailored suit, walked to the microphone with the trophy. He pulled out the script I had written and read the first line. "Astrophotography is an ascetic pursuit of darkness. We spend our entire lives capturing absolute zero light pollution..." He stopped there. After a silence that stretched on for what felt like an eternity, Callan folded the cue card I had written in half and slipped it back into his pocket. "This script feels too formal. Right now, I want to speak from my real thoughts." He lifted his head and locked his gaze directly onto Nessa in the second row. "Those who know me know I have an uncompromising rule—zero light pollution." "To maintain this standard, I demanded that the people around me shouldn't even let their breathing disrupt the exposure." It felt like a public execution of me, his rightful Luna. "Many people asked me today why I gave up a comet that only appears once every seventy years." He paused, the tenderness overflowing from his eyes. "Because comets return. Even if it takes seventy years, they will pass through the sky again." "But some people are not comets. She is a meteor. You don't know when she will light up, or whether she will ever light up again." "So in that moment she appeared, I turned off every device, abandoned every plan, and aimed my camera, my entire night, my entire sky, at her." His voice dropped a fraction lower. "In that moment, I suddenly realized that the stars in the sky are dead things. They travel ages to reach Earth with absolutely no warmth. But real light is the warmth you can feel the moment you turn your head in the wilderness." He looked at Nessa, who was already in tears. "So I willingly broke my five-year rule. Because what people call light pollution is only because the light was in the wrong place." "Nessa, thank you for lighting up my universe." Thunderous applause shook the hall. The entire audience cheered for the Alpha's declaration of "true love." He used my five years of absolute darkness as a sacrifice to prove his rule. Then used Nessa's single sparkler to prove his love. How ironic. I didn't wait for their embrace. Amid the deafening cheers, I turned and left the hall. I took a taxi back to the apartment I had lived in for five years. I pushed my only suitcase to the door. Then I walked to the shelf and took down the three glass jars—clean, transparent, without a single speck of dust. I lined the three empty jars neatly next to his premium camera. No note. No hesitation. 1,096 silent nights—my love had been completely emptied out. I dragged my suitcase, closed the door, and left. My phone vibrated. Callan: [Nessa drank too much at the afterparty. I'll be back late. Go to sleep, don't wait for me.] I stared at the screen and let out a cold laugh. I pulled out the SIM card I had used for five years, snapped it in half, and threw it away. At the same time, I gave my inner wolf a command: sever every link to him. The taxi sped along the elevated highway. The neon lights flashed past, a blinding display of light pollution everywhere. He used to say that the city sky hid the stars, which was why he had to travel so far away. But he had no idea that the lunar sky photographer who had once hidden her own brilliance in the dark for him had completely erased her existence tonight. Callan, your world no longer has to worry about light pollution. And me? I'm going out to claim my own galaxy. But I had no idea I'd be met with a frantic Callan the moment I landed...
I asked to stay over 4 times in 4 years. He said no every time. "We're not married yet. I want to respect your space." Then I saw the photo. My intern—the one who stole my work—posted a picture of her feet in my slippers. Standing in his living room. He gave her the spare key. Made her instant ramen—the same late-night snack he always made for me. Drank wine with her—and he never drinks. When I confronted him, he called me petty. "She's just a tenant," he said. "Show some empathy." Two days later, he posted a video in our company Slack. Apologizing for me. Telling everyone I bullied her. Destroying my reputation—for her. I called him. He didn't answer. She did. "Julian's asleep," she purred. "He's been with me all night." Four years I gave him. Four years of waiting, of respecting his boundaries. And he threw me away the second someone new smiled at him. I packed one bag, deleted every photo, and blocked his number. A man not worth waiting for—good riddance. I complained when Julian Brooks rejected my request to stay over—for the fourth time. "Julian, you're so rigid." My apartment's AC had died in the middle of a hun//dred-degree heatwave. Yet he insisted on being old-fashioned about it. Throughout our four years together, no matter how late it got, he always insisted on driving me home. Julian sighed and tried to soothe me. "Be sweet, Chloe. We aren't married yet, and I want us to respect each other's space. I don't want anyone at the office gossiping about us living together." My heart warmed at his words, so I fell right back into our usual routine, venting to him about the recent drama at my office just like I always did. But he kept checking his watch, clearly distracted, and urged me to head back. Fortunately, the HVAC technician found a sudden opening and rushed over to my place. While waiting for him to finish the repairs, I happened to scroll through my Instagram feed and saw a post from our company's new marketing intern, Savannah Cross. [My landlord suddenly canceled my lease, but thank god someone stepped up to help. Otherwise, I'd be sleeping on the streets.] I recognized the background of her photo immediately. It was Julian's apartment. I stared at my phone screen, completely frozen. I stood there so long the technician finished fixing the unit and carefully lowered the thermostat. "Too hot for you, kiddo?" He looked at me with a sympathetic sigh. "Tell you what, I'll knock twenty bucks off the bill. Take it from an old man—there's no rough patch in life you can't get through." Only then did I realize tears were streaming down my face. I forced a smile. "Thank you. You're absolutely right." Julian was a rough patch I was finally moving past. ****** Savannah's photo only showed her legs and her luggage. She was wearing my slippers, standing right inside Julian's living room. The moment I stepped out of his apartment, she stepped right in. Before leaving, I had playfully begged Julian to let me stay. He refused without a second thought. "Chloe, you need to go home. I have urgent work to finish in a bit." As it turned out, there was no urgent work. The only urgency was Savannah. She was the new intern in my department, and we hadn't been getting along. I mentioned this to Julian before. But he never seemed to care, let alone listen. I had no idea Julian even knew Savannah. He'd never mentioned her. Yet it was glaringly obvious that she was spending the night at his place. Another red notification popped up on my screen as Savannah updated her feed again. [Meeting a soft-hearted god at my absolute worst. Blessed.] This time, Julian was in the photo. He was looking down at her with a helpless, fond smile. Two bowls of instant ramen with Spam sat on the table. On weekends, when Julian and I curled up together, that was the exact late-night snack he always made for me. Now, he was making it for Savannah. Savannah's comment sat right beneath the post, smug and flaunting. [Rent is two hun//dred, utilities are free, and no deposit. Best landlord ever.] Landlord. He had let Savannah move in. A sharp, suffocating pain flared in my chest, stealing my breath. To make his commute easier, Julian had rented a two-bedroom apartment near the office. It was a great place—twenty-five hun//dred a month. It used to be a shared rental, but his old roommate had moved out, and they hadn't found a suitable replacement. Worried the rent would be too much, I suggested moving in to split the cost. He flatly refused. "Chloe, I won't take your note, and I don't think it's right to move in together before marriage." It wasn't right for me, but it was perfectly fine for Savannah. I remembered those boundaries so clearly. The first time I asked to stay over was during our honeymoon phase, and Julian strictly turned me down. The second time, I came down with a sudden high fever. Julian still drove me back to my place, watched me take my medicine, and left the moment I fell asleep. The third time was the worst—someone had left a strange mark on my apartment door. I was losing my mind with fear, but Julian still wouldn't let me stay at his place. Instead, he booked me a hotel room. He spent the next day contacting landlords, agents, and movers, ensuring I relocated to a new apartment within twenty-four hours. Four years, and I couldn't get into Julian's place. Savannah managed it without lifting a finger. I had to admit his "traditional" boundaries were reserved exclusively for me. My phone buzzed with a text from Julian. [Goodnight.] No explanation. No mention of her. [By the way, I found a new roommate. She's moving in tomorrow under an emergency circumstance.] [Chloe, make sure to let me know in advance before you come over from now on.] Staring at the text, I wanted to laugh. But my tears hit the screen first. I wiped my eyes and didn't reply. Savannah posted a third update. One photo showed her clinking wine glasses with Julian, and the other was a selfie where their cheeks were practically pressed together. [Celebrating the new place. Here's to the future, Mr. Brooks.] Late at night. An unmarried man and woman. Living together. Julian never touched a drop of alcohol. Yet he was drinking with her tonight. In an instant, all the determination holding my heart together vanished. It was all so pathetic. I didn't text Julian for the next two days. He didn't seem to notice. It wasn't until later that week, when a sudden torrential downpour hit right at the end of the workday, that our paths crossed. I was waiting for an Uber under the office awning. Savannah was standing right next to me. She was holding her phone, whining cutely to whoever was on the other end. "Can you pull up a little closer? Hurry, the wind is freezing..." A car pulled up right in front of us. Entirely too familiar. Sure enough, the window rolled down to reveal Julian in the driver's seat. He hadn't sent a single text to check on me during this storm, yet he'd rushed over to pick up Savannah. Julian froze when he caught sight of me. "Chloe, you..." Savannah closed her umbrella, opened the door, and hopped straight into the passenger seat. "Julian, you actually know Chloe?" She looked out at me from the dry comfort of the car, her smile radiating sweetness. "Chloe, why don't you get in? Let Julian give you a ride. It's impossible to get an Uber in this weather." My own boyfriend was offering me a ride, and only because she'd graciously granted him permission. Julian remained silent, merely looking at me. I shook my head expressionlessly. "No need." My ride was already confirmed and only three minutes away. No reason to get in that car just to make myself sick. Savannah nodded and rolled up the window. The car lingered for a few seconds before driving off into the rain. When I finally got home and stepped out of the shower, I found Julian waiting in my living room. He still had the code to my smart lock. "Chloe, are you throwing a tantrum?" "When you refused to get in the car, I thought you were just busy, but the more I thought about it, the more off it felt." Julian reached out to grab my hand, but I stepped aside, dodging him. "Is this about me picking up Savannah today?" "Or because I didn't let you stay over the other night and didn't drive you home?" He let out a helpless chuckle. "Don't be so petty. Savannah's an old classmate. I only picked her up because I was passing by—and it's hard to say no when she asks." "Not letting you stay over was for your own good. I promise I'll drive you home next time..." "Julian, let's break up." Julian stiffened, his face instantly darkening. "Chloe, over something this minor?" "Yes." My eyes were entirely dead. "I can't stay at your place, but Savannah can. Don't you find that hilarious?" He'd never intended to tell me about her because he knew exactly how I'd react. "You... let me explain." Julian's eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting me to already know. "Savannah moved to the city all by herself from a small town, and I'm the only person she knows here." "It's tough for a young girl, and her landlord suddenly kicked her out. If I hadn't stepped in, she'd be on the streets." "Chloe, you're a woman too—show some empathy." Seeing my silence, he let out a heavy sigh. "It's just an emergency temporary stay. Besides, there's nothing going on between us, so we don't need to overcomplicate things." "She's different from you. She's just a tenant." "Just a tenant?" I laughed. "Julian, I told you before that Savannah is the new intern in my department." "During her first week, she spent every single lunch break on the phone in the breakroom. When people teased her about it, she claimed it wasn't a boyfriend, just an old classmate." "That old classmate was you, wasn't it?" Julian's eyes flickered with guilt for a fraction of a second, but he didn't deny it. I used to love sharing things with him, flooding his phone with texts whenever I had a free moment. But his replies were always agonizingly slow, if they came at all. We'd fought about it a few times. Back then, Julian would just look exhausted and say, "Chloe, we're adults. Work is busy, and I need to rest during lunch. Can you stop making things difficult for me?" But when it came to Savannah, it was never difficult. "For the past two days, Savannah started bringing homemade lunches to work. You made those for her too, didn't you?" "And you're still trying to tell me she's just a tenant?" Those lunchboxes were a matching couple's set I'd bought, left behind at Julian's apartment. Now, Savannah was using them. Julian knitted his brows, completely unable to comprehend my anger. "Chloe, aren't you reading way too much into this?" "Don't be prejudiced against Savannah. She told me there was just a misunderstanding between you two at work..." He didn't listen to a single word I said, but he took everything Savannah said as gospel. I had nothing left to say. The silence in the room grew suffocating until the doorbell suddenly rang. Julian turned to open it. A second later, Savannah poked her head in, smiling warmly at me. "Hi, Chloe. Sorry to drop by unannounced." My gaze pierced right through Savannah and landed coldly on Julian. "You brought her here?" Savannah couldn't have found my address on her own. Julian stood beside her, deliberately avoiding my eyes. "Chloe, Savannah isn't the kind of person you think she is." "Since there's a misunderstanding, you two should just talk it out..." I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "I spent two weeks pulling all-nighters for our latest marketing campaign, and she intentionally deleted my name from the pitch deck. You call that a misunderstanding?" I was the lead on that project, and Savannah was only supposed to assist me. After all my hard work, she secretly wiped my version from the shared drive history and submitted the campaign under her own name. I'd confronted her directly, but I couldn't recover the deleted file history in time to prove it to management. The drama had caused a massive stir in the office. "Chloe, you shouldn't bully me just because I'm the new intern." "That campaign was clearly my..." Savannah's eyes welled with tears, her voice trailing off vulnerably. "Forget it. You're Julian's girlfriend, and I don't want things to be tense between us. I definitely don't want you two fighting because of me." "Let's just say it was my fault. I apologize." Heartache flashed across Julian's face. "Savannah, I know what kind of person you are. Right is right." He turned to me, his tone hardening. "You shouldn't have to compromise yourself just for my sake." Then he looked straight at me. "Chloe, just apologize to Savannah, and we can all move past this." The final trace of agonizing heartache vanished from my chest. I felt entirely, completely numb. "Julian, let me make this incredibly clear. We are broken up." "Now, take your little friend and get the he11 out of my apartment." Savannah flinched, tears cascading down her face as she clutched the edge of Julian's jacket, shrinking behind him. Julian's expression turned vicious and mocking. "Chloe, are you seriously trying to threaten me with a breakup? You honestly think I'll just bow down to that?" "You are completely unhinged." He grabbed Savannah's hand and pulled her out the door. The door slammed shut with a deafening thud. I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained of energy. Right then, my phone rang. It was my mom. "Chloe, are you really moving back home? Did something happen out there?" "No, Mom. I already turned in my resignation. I'm just wrapping up my files over the next two days before heading back." "Did you and Julian have a fight?" "No fight. We broke up." I'd already been thinking about changing companies anyway. And after the nightmare with Savannah, I immediately submitted my two weeks' notice. Our director thought he'd struck gold with Savannah, so he approved my departure without a single complaint. My mom went quiet for a few seconds. "Broken up... well, as long as you've thought it through." "It's good that you're coming back. Your dad and I won't have to constantly worry about you getting mistreated out there." My throat tightened, and my eyes stung. "Mom, don't worry about me." "I've already been looking at job openings, and there are plenty of great marketing agencies back home..." "I'm not worried about the job, sweetie. Just don't push yourself too hard." A lump formed in my throat, leaving me completely speechless. I'd hoped to spend my last two days in the city in peace. But Savannah had no intention of letting me go quietly. Just as the workday ended, the company Slack workspace absolutely exploded. Savannah had dropped a video into the main public channel. The person in the video was Julian. His face was dead serious, completely devoid of any playfulness. "Regarding the recent campaign pitch, I am formally apologizing to Savannah Cross on behalf of my girlfriend, Chloe Vance."
I asked to stay over 4 times in 4 years. He said no every time. "We're not married yet. I want to respect your space." Then I saw the photo. My intern—the one who stole my work—posted a picture of her feet in my slippers. Standing in his living room. He gave her the spare key. Made her instant ramen—the same late-night snack he always made for me. Drank wine with her—and he never drinks. When I confronted him, he called me petty. "She's just a tenant," he said. "Show some empathy." Two days later, he posted a video in our company Slack. Apologizing for me. Telling everyone I bullied her. Destroying my reputation—for her. I called him. He didn't answer. She did. "Julian's asleep," she purred. "He's been with me all night." Four years I gave him. Four years of waiting, of respecting his boundaries. And he threw me away the second someone new smiled at him. I packed one bag, deleted every photo, and blocked his number. A man not worth waiting for—good riddance. I complained when Julian Brooks rejected my request to stay over—for the fourth time. "Julian, you're so rigid." My apartment's AC had died in the middle of a hun//dred-degree heatwave. Yet he insisted on being old-fashioned about it. Throughout our four years together, no matter how late it got, he always insisted on driving me home. Julian sighed and tried to soothe me. "Be sweet, Chloe. We aren't married yet, and I want us to respect each other's space. I don't want anyone at the office gossiping about us living together." My heart warmed at his words, so I fell right back into our usual routine, venting to him about the recent drama at my office just like I always did. But he kept checking his watch, clearly distracted, and urged me to head back. Fortunately, the HVAC technician found a sudden opening and rushed over to my place. While waiting for him to finish the repairs, I happened to scroll through my Instagram feed and saw a post from our company's new marketing intern, Savannah Cross. [My landlord suddenly canceled my lease, but thank god someone stepped up to help. Otherwise, I'd be sleeping on the streets.] I recognized the background of her photo immediately. It was Julian's apartment. I stared at my phone screen, completely frozen. I stood there so long the technician finished fixing the unit and carefully lowered the thermostat. "Too hot for you, kiddo?" He looked at me with a sympathetic sigh. "Tell you what, I'll knock twenty bucks off the bill. Take it from an old man—there's no rough patch in life you can't get through." Only then did I realize tears were streaming down my face. I forced a smile. "Thank you. You're absolutely right." Julian was a rough patch I was finally moving past. ****** Savannah's photo only showed her legs and her luggage. She was wearing my slippers, standing right inside Julian's living room. The moment I stepped out of his apartment, she stepped right in. Before leaving, I had playfully begged Julian to let me stay. He refused without a second thought. "Chloe, you need to go home. I have urgent work to finish in a bit." As it turned out, there was no urgent work. The only urgency was Savannah. She was the new intern in my department, and we hadn't been getting along. I mentioned this to Julian before. But he never seemed to care, let alone listen. I had no idea Julian even knew Savannah. He'd never mentioned her. Yet it was glaringly obvious that she was spending the night at his place. Another red notification popped up on my screen as Savannah updated her feed again. [Meeting a soft-hearted god at my absolute worst. Blessed.] This time, Julian was in the photo. He was looking down at her with a helpless, fond smile. Two bowls of instant ramen with Spam sat on the table. On weekends, when Julian and I curled up together, that was the exact late-night snack he always made for me. Now, he was making it for Savannah. Savannah's comment sat right beneath the post, smug and flaunting. [Rent is two hun//dred, utilities are free, and no deposit. Best landlord ever.] Landlord. He had let Savannah move in. A sharp, suffocating pain flared in my chest, stealing my breath. To make his commute easier, Julian had rented a two-bedroom apartment near the office. It was a great place—twenty-five hun//dred a month. It used to be a shared rental, but his old roommate had moved out, and they hadn't found a suitable replacement. Worried the rent would be too much, I suggested moving in to split the cost. He flatly refused. "Chloe, I won't take your note, and I don't think it's right to move in together before marriage." It wasn't right for me, but it was perfectly fine for Savannah. I remembered those boundaries so clearly. The first time I asked to stay over was during our honeymoon phase, and Julian strictly turned me down. The second time, I came down with a sudden high fever. Julian still drove me back to my place, watched me take my medicine, and left the moment I fell asleep. The third time was the worst—someone had left a strange mark on my apartment door. I was losing my mind with fear, but Julian still wouldn't let me stay at his place. Instead, he booked me a hotel room. He spent the next day contacting landlords, agents, and movers, ensuring I relocated to a new apartment within twenty-four hours. Four years, and I couldn't get into Julian's place. Savannah managed it without lifting a finger. I had to admit his "traditional" boundaries were reserved exclusively for me. My phone buzzed with a text from Julian. [Goodnight.] No explanation. No mention of her. [By the way, I found a new roommate. She's moving in tomorrow under an emergency circumstance.] [Chloe, make sure to let me know in advance before you come over from now on.] Staring at the text, I wanted to laugh. But my tears hit the screen first. I wiped my eyes and didn't reply. Savannah posted a third update. One photo showed her clinking wine glasses with Julian, and the other was a selfie where their cheeks were practically pressed together. [Celebrating the new place. Here's to the future, Mr. Brooks.] Late at night. An unmarried man and woman. Living together. Julian never touched a drop of alcohol. Yet he was drinking with her tonight. In an instant, all the determination holding my heart together vanished. It was all so pathetic. I didn't text Julian for the next two days. He didn't seem to notice. It wasn't until later that week, when a sudden torrential downpour hit right at the end of the workday, that our paths crossed. I was waiting for an Uber under the office awning. Savannah was standing right next to me. She was holding her phone, whining cutely to whoever was on the other end. "Can you pull up a little closer? Hurry, the wind is freezing..." A car pulled up right in front of us. Entirely too familiar. Sure enough, the window rolled down to reveal Julian in the driver's seat. He hadn't sent a single text to check on me during this storm, yet he'd rushed over to pick up Savannah. Julian froze when he caught sight of me. "Chloe, you..." Savannah closed her umbrella, opened the door, and hopped straight into the passenger seat. "Julian, you actually know Chloe?" She looked out at me from the dry comfort of the car, her smile radiating sweetness. "Chloe, why don't you get in? Let Julian give you a ride. It's impossible to get an Uber in this weather." My own boyfriend was offering me a ride, and only because she'd graciously granted him permission. Julian remained silent, merely looking at me. I shook my head expressionlessly. "No need." My ride was already confirmed and only three minutes away. No reason to get in that car just to make myself sick. Savannah nodded and rolled up the window. The car lingered for a few seconds before driving off into the rain. When I finally got home and stepped out of the shower, I found Julian waiting in my living room. He still had the code to my smart lock. "Chloe, are you throwing a tantrum?" "When you refused to get in the car, I thought you were just busy, but the more I thought about it, the more off it felt." Julian reached out to grab my hand, but I stepped aside, dodging him. "Is this about me picking up Savannah today?" "Or because I didn't let you stay over the other night and didn't drive you home?" He let out a helpless chuckle. "Don't be so petty. Savannah's an old classmate. I only picked her up because I was passing by—and it's hard to say no when she asks." "Not letting you stay over was for your own good. I promise I'll drive you home next time..." "Julian, let's break up." Julian stiffened, his face instantly darkening. "Chloe, over something this minor?" "Yes." My eyes were entirely dead. "I can't stay at your place, but Savannah can. Don't you find that hilarious?" He'd never intended to tell me about her because he knew exactly how I'd react. "You... let me explain." Julian's eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting me to already know. "Savannah moved to the city all by herself from a small town, and I'm the only person she knows here." "It's tough for a young girl, and her landlord suddenly kicked her out. If I hadn't stepped in, she'd be on the streets." "Chloe, you're a woman too—show some empathy." Seeing my silence, he let out a heavy sigh. "It's just an emergency temporary stay. Besides, there's nothing going on between us, so we don't need to overcomplicate things." "She's different from you. She's just a tenant." "Just a tenant?" I laughed. "Julian, I told you before that Savannah is the new intern in my department." "During her first week, she spent every single lunch break on the phone in the breakroom. When people teased her about it, she claimed it wasn't a boyfriend, just an old classmate." "That old classmate was you, wasn't it?" Julian's eyes flickered with guilt for a fraction of a second, but he didn't deny it. I used to love sharing things with him, flooding his phone with texts whenever I had a free moment. But his replies were always agonizingly slow, if they came at all. We'd fought about it a few times. Back then, Julian would just look exhausted and say, "Chloe, we're adults. Work is busy, and I need to rest during lunch. Can you stop making things difficult for me?" But when it came to Savannah, it was never difficult. "For the past two days, Savannah started bringing homemade lunches to work. You made those for her too, didn't you?" "And you're still trying to tell me she's just a tenant?" Those lunchboxes were a matching couple's set I'd bought, left behind at Julian's apartment. Now, Savannah was using them. Julian knitted his brows, completely unable to comprehend my anger. "Chloe, aren't you reading way too much into this?" "Don't be prejudiced against Savannah. She told me there was just a misunderstanding between you two at work..." He didn't listen to a single word I said, but he took everything Savannah said as gospel. I had nothing left to say. The silence in the room grew suffocating until the doorbell suddenly rang. Julian turned to open it. A second later, Savannah poked her head in, smiling warmly at me. "Hi, Chloe. Sorry to drop by unannounced." My gaze pierced right through Savannah and landed coldly on Julian. "You brought her here?" Savannah couldn't have found my address on her own. Julian stood beside her, deliberately avoiding my eyes. "Chloe, Savannah isn't the kind of person you think she is." "Since there's a misunderstanding, you two should just talk it out..." I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "I spent two weeks pulling all-nighters for our latest marketing campaign, and she intentionally deleted my name from the pitch deck. You call that a misunderstanding?" I was the lead on that project, and Savannah was only supposed to assist me. After all my hard work, she secretly wiped my version from the shared drive history and submitted the campaign under her own name. I'd confronted her directly, but I couldn't recover the deleted file history in time to prove it to management. The drama had caused a massive stir in the office. "Chloe, you shouldn't bully me just because I'm the new intern." "That campaign was clearly my..." Savannah's eyes welled with tears, her voice trailing off vulnerably. "Forget it. You're Julian's girlfriend, and I don't want things to be tense between us. I definitely don't want you two fighting because of me." "Let's just say it was my fault. I apologize." Heartache flashed across Julian's face. "Savannah, I know what kind of person you are. Right is right." He turned to me, his tone hardening. "You shouldn't have to compromise yourself just for my sake." Then he looked straight at me. "Chloe, just apologize to Savannah, and we can all move past this." The final trace of agonizing heartache vanished from my chest. I felt entirely, completely numb. "Julian, let me make this incredibly clear. We are broken up." "Now, take your little friend and get the he11 out of my apartment." Savannah flinched, tears cascading down her face as she clutched the edge of Julian's jacket, shrinking behind him. Julian's expression turned vicious and mocking. "Chloe, are you seriously trying to threaten me with a breakup? You honestly think I'll just bow down to that?" "You are completely unhinged." He grabbed Savannah's hand and pulled her out the door. The door slammed shut with a deafening thud. I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained of energy. Right then, my phone rang. It was my mom. "Chloe, are you really moving back home? Did something happen out there?" "No, Mom. I already turned in my resignation. I'm just wrapping up my files over the next two days before heading back." "Did you and Julian have a fight?" "No fight. We broke up." I'd already been thinking about changing companies anyway. And after the nightmare with Savannah, I immediately submitted my two weeks' notice. Our director thought he'd struck gold with Savannah, so he approved my departure without a single complaint. My mom went quiet for a few seconds. "Broken up... well, as long as you've thought it through." "It's good that you're coming back. Your dad and I won't have to constantly worry about you getting mistreated out there." My throat tightened, and my eyes stung. "Mom, don't worry about me." "I've already been looking at job openings, and there are plenty of great marketing agencies back home..." "I'm not worried about the job, sweetie. Just don't push yourself too hard." A lump formed in my throat, leaving me completely speechless. I'd hoped to spend my last two days in the city in peace. But Savannah had no intention of letting me go quietly. Just as the workday ended, the company Slack workspace absolutely exploded. Savannah had dropped a video into the main public channel. The person in the video was Julian. His face was dead serious, completely devoid of any playfulness. "Regarding the recent campaign pitch, I am formally apologizing to Savannah Cross on behalf of my girlfriend, Chloe Vance."
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