Chapter 1
Timothy Gibson, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, dumped me for his secretary, Luna Henn.
His excuse? That sweet, considerate girl couldn't live without him, while I was strong enough to get by on my own.
Three years later, I returned from studying abroad and had become the youngest chief designer in the field.
His marriage to Luna, meanwhile, was a complete mess, and they fought constantly over her family draining their savings.
At an exclusive gala, he stopped me, his eyes bloodshot as he begged me for another chance.
I swirled my champagne and chuckled softly, "Isn't it funny? Back then, you said she couldn't live without you, so you picked her.
"But now? Funny how you don't say that anymore.
"So what is it? You finally realized she only needed your wallet? Or are you just admitting you were never that important after all?"
*****
By late November in Riverview City, the last sycamore leaf had finally fallen.
Zoey Sutton stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of Sutton Mansion, gazing at the bare maple in the yard. When she was three, her father, Richard Sutton, had planted it right beneath her window so that by her wedding day, its trunk would be thick enough for her to wrap her arms around.
But now, at 22, the maple was only as wide as a mug, and her engagement had already ended.
"Zoey, please listen to me." Richard's voice came from behind her, sounding more tired and cautious than ever.
Zoey didn't turn around. She just stared at her blurry reflection in the glass. Her hair was carelessly tied up. She wore no makeup, only loungewear, and there wasn't even a proper ring on her finger.
She figured it was no wonder he picked someone else.
"The wedding was supposed to be next May, and now you're breaking it off? What are we supposed to tell the Gibson family?" Her mother, Andrea Sutton, said. Her voice caught in her throat. "You need to give me an explanation, Zoey. Did he hurt you? Or did you two fight?"
That word lingered in Zoey's mind. Explanation.
She finally turned around and saw the three people sitting in the living room—her parents and Timothy.
Timothy was dressed in a dark gray coat, sitting up straight like he was there to close a business deal. On the table lay a document. The cover read: [Termination of Engagement.]
"Mr. Sutton, Mrs. Sutton, I didn't think this through," Timothy said, his voice steady as ever. "This has nothing to do with Zoey. It's my problem."
Richard's face darkened. "What problem are you talking about? You think I don't know about that thing with your secretary?"
"It's not the secretary," Timothy replied, looking up at him. "Her name is Luna. She's my girlfriend now."
Girlfriend. The word stabbed Zoey right in the part of her heart that still hadn't died.
She and Timothy had grown up together. When they were 12, at a big family dinner, he boldly announced, "Zoey's going to be my wife someday." Her cheeks flushed bright red, but he calmly reached over and served her a plate of her favorite food, without batting an eye, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
At 16, she got cornered by some punks behind the school. Timothy came charging in on his bike and took a brick to the head. Blood poured down his face, but he still stood firmly in front of her, refusing to let anyone touch her.
At 18, they got into different colleges. He walked her to the train station. At the ticket gate, he gently held her hand and promised, "Four years will go by in a flash. When we graduate, we'll get engaged."
At 22, she graduated, and they finally got engaged. His family's gifts piled up in her living room. A family Bible passed down through his family sat on the shelf by her bed.
At 24, with the wedding date almost here, he came to call it off.
"Why?" Zoey heard herself ask.
Timothy looked at her, his eyes swirling with a mix of emotions—guilt, resignation, and something she couldn't quite name.
"Luna can't live without me," he said. "Her family's struggling, and she's got no one else in this city. No relatives, no support. She needs me."
Zoey was stunned for a moment. "So?"
"You're strong, Zoey," Timothy said, getting up and coming over to her. "You've always been top of your class. You're good at everything. And your family is well-off. Even if I'm not around, you'll be fine."
He paused, and his tone softened. "But she's not like you. I'm all she's got."
Zoey just looked at him for a long time.
A breeze stirred outside, and the last few maple leaves fluttered to the ground.
"Timothy, say it again," she said.
"I know this isn't fair to you..." Timothy began.
"I said, say it again," she cut him off.
He was silent for a few seconds, then finally said, "She can't live without me."
"So?" Zoey asked.
"So I can't just abandon her," he replied.
"I asked you, so what?" she shot back.
"So I can only fail you," he said.
Zoey laughed.
She didn't know why she was laughing. Her eyes burned. Her throat tightened. But she forced herself to smile. Otherwise, she'd look too pitiful, too desperate, like some abandoned puppy.
"She can't live without you, and I'm strong, so I deserve to be cast aside?" Zoey asked, each word deliberate. "Is that your logic, Timothy?"
"Zoey..." Timothy started.
"Alright," she cut him off, grabbing the document from the table. "I'll sign."
Andrea jumped to her feet. "Zoey!"
"It's okay, Mom," Zoey said, taking the pen and signing her name on the last page. Her handwriting was smooth and careful, like she was just signing another piece of paperwork, like it meant nothing at all.
Once she finished, she pushed the document back to Timothy.
"The family Bible is on the shelf by my bed. Go get it yourself," she said.
Timothy didn't move.
Zoey glanced at him. "What, you want me to fetch it for you? Sorry, I'm strong, not the domestic type."
She turned and walked upstairs, her steps steady, her back ramrod straight.
Inside her room, she closed the door, slid down against it, and sat on the floor. With her face buried in her knees, she finally broke down and sobbed.