Your auntie and I won’t underpay you. We’ll
pay you the top designer rate, and you can
handle the production too.”
His voice was gentle, but my chest tightened.
I didn’t want to give my work away. I finally
mustered the courage to refuse.
But before I could speak, Jason said,
“Sweetie, Melanie and I are getting married
soon. She’ll be your aunt. Don’t do anything to
upset her, okay?”
My pale face was reflected in his eyes.
Looking at him, my courage crumbled.
“…Okay. You don’t have to pay me. Consider
it a wedding gift from me.”
No matter how much I liked him before, I
decided to give up at that moment.
I didn’t want to lose not only love but also the
last bit of affection between us.
“Thank you, sweetie.”
Jason ruffled my hair, his expression as
gentle and indifferent as ever, as if we’d
never been close.
Standing in the place I’d called home for
<
almost twenty years, I felt out of place.
At that moment, I realized that no matter how
hard I tried, I was being abandoned by my
second home.
I couldn’t stay here anymore. I decided to
move out. Jason had taken care of me for so
many years, and I owed him an explanation.
But at dinner, Melanie interrupted me every
time I tried to bring it up.
I went to find Jason after dinner, but Melanie
opened the door.
She was wearing a revealing outfit and
blushed. “Jason’s in the shower. Is something
the matter?”
Embarrassed, I mumbled, “Nothing,” and
hurried away.
I planned to tell him the next morning, but
when I woke up, the housekeeper told me,
“Mr. Jason is on a business trip with Miss
Melanie. They won’t be back until the day
before the engagement.”
Even I could see that Melanie was trying to
avoid me, and Jason was avoiding me
because of her.
I stopped trying to impose myself on them.
After editing it dozens of times, I sent Jason a message telling him I was moving out.
He didn’t reply.
Scrolling through our chat history. I saw all
the messages where he reminded me to dress
warmly, drink more water, and not overwork
myself, and my simple replies of “Okay.”
He hadn’t messaged me first in a long time.
My messages sat alone on one side.
Melanie, however, messaged me:
[Chloe, there are some things I’m not
comfortable saying to your face, but I don’t
want to keep them bottled up. The day I saw
your wedding dress designs, I also saw your
diary.]
[I understand you like Jason. He’s a wonderful
man, and you’re not the only one who likes
him.]
[But we’re getting married soon. I’ll care for
L
you like he does, but I can’t accept a woman
who likes my fiancé being around us all the
time… You understand, right?]
She was the one who’d snooped through my
diary and taken my designs, yet I was the one
feeling embarrassed and ashamed.
I felt like I’d been stripped naked and thrown.
into the street.
Fighting back the shame, I replied, [I’ll move
out.]
Melanie: [If Jason asks why, please don’t
mention me. You don’t want us to fight
because of you, right?]
[Okay.]
I put down my phone and went to my room to
find my diary.
It was a thin volume, covering seventeen.
years.
Flipping through it, I felt a pang of sadness.
The swing Jason had built for me, the
souvenirs he’d brought back from our trips,
the first clay sculpture he’d taught me to
make… they were all gone.
I burned the diary and asked Alex to help me
move.
I sold all my designer bags, limited–edition
clothes, and jewelry, depositing the money
into a bank account.
Combined with the money I’d earned selling
designs, it totaled over 30 million, enough to
repay Jason.
