Chapter 1

During our vacation in the Mediterranean, Enoch Robertson's girlfriend sent him a selfie in a bikini, asking him to bring one back for her. Infuriated, I accused her of being shameless and having no sense of decency.

Later that afternoon, a video of me showering went viral online. Panicking, I grabbed my phone and went to find Enoch, only to overhear him and his friends talking by the bathroom door.

"Enoch, you’re really going all out this time," one friend said. "The photos you shared in the group before were way too tame."

"But aren’t you worried that Sage Woods might break up with you when she finds out? Even though the video only shows a side profile, everyone who knows her can easily recognize it's Sage."

Enoch dismissed their concerns, saying, "She’s head over heels for me. She’s threatened to break up ninety-nine times, and each time she begs me to take her back. Now that she’s exposed to everyone, she’ll just cling to me even more."

He continued, "Anyway, she had it coming. Charlotte just asked me to buy her a bikini, and Sage called her shameless. Charlotte is such a sweet girl; I’d never talk to her like that. Who does Sage think she is? It’s about time she learned her lesson."

Feeling sickened, I pressed my lips together, my body trembling uncontrollably. Throughout our three-year relationship, everyone had initially warned me to stay away from Enoch, saying he’d never leave Charlotte, his true love, whom he’d been devoted to for four years.

As I was about to give up, Enoch confessed his feelings and became the picture-perfect boyfriend, always putting me first. He would prepare comforting snacks when I wasn’t feeling well and remember to take me out to try delicious meals he discovered.

During intimate moments, Enoch would repeatedly tell me he loved me. He had a peculiar habit of liking to take pictures and videos. When I discovered this, he promised to delete them, assuring me they made him feel closer to me.

After his relentless pleading and reassurances of privacy, I reluctantly agreed. I never imagined that on the first day of our Mediterranean trip, after a heartfelt moment, I'd casually pick up Enoch’s phone to order food and notice a message alert from someone named "Char Char."

I opened it and saw a picture of Charlotte in a bikini accompanied by a voice message.

"Enoch, I just got home and heard you're in the Mediterranean. The bikinis there are really good quality. Could you get me another one?"

Noticing Enoch’s nickname for Charlotte, my discomfort grew, and I replied curtly, "Miss Perry, Enoch is my boyfriend. Sending revealing photos at night is quite disgraceful."

After a long pause, a voice message came back with a tearful apology. Enoch gently touched my hair, explaining that Charlotte was like a little sister from next door, and I shouldn’t be jealous because he had gone shopping with her when both families visited the Mediterranean previously.

Yet, because Charlotte had cried, Enoch shared my shower video online to appease her. Behind the bathroom door, Enoch continued discussing my body with his friends, and I felt as though I was floating above, disoriented, unable to breathe.

Somehow, I stumbled out of the hotel and flagged down a cab, where I burst into tears. I couldn’t understand how someone who professed his love for me while holding me close could betray me so deeply.

I had sacrificed the chance to travel abroad for a research project with Valerie, my best friend, all for Enoch. Even when Valerie warned me he wasn’t a good match, I rashly cut off contact with her for three years.

Filled with regret, I shakily dialed Valerie’s number. Overwhelmed by humiliation and unease, I hung up after the first ring, unsure of how to share my disgrace and fearing her ridicule.