Chapter 3

Just then, a sweet voice chimed in, "Ryan, Megan, what's wrong? Are you having a fight?"

Lucine strolled over, wearing a spaghetti strap dress that perfectly showed off her gorgeous collarbones.

She slipped right up next to Ryan, almost glued to his arm.

Ryan was still pissed, and it felt like he was doing it on purpose just to get under my skin, showing off how popular he was. He didn't even try to keep a distance from Lucine.

Instead, his voice got gentler as he said, "It's nothing, Lucine. Don't worry about it."

Lucine gently tugged at his sleeve, her voice soft and a little pitiful. "Ryan, is Megan still upset with me about yesterday's match? I really didn't mean it. I just wanted to win so much, to make our team proud."

But I didn't say a word. I didn't even spare them a glance.

"Shawn, I'm leaving the resignation form with you. Please handle the rest," I said.

With that, I walked right past the two of them and headed straight for the door.

"Megan, stop right there!" Ryan's angry voice rang out behind me.

I didn't look back. I didn't even slow down for a second. I directly walked out of that suffocating place.

While packing, I found a photo hidden in an old book.

In the photo, Ryan and I were standing together in our school uniforms, the sunset lighting up the field behind us.

All those memories hit me at once.

I remembered back in sophomore year, when some punk from the next class got wind of some nasty rumors.

He cornered me after school, leering at me with that disgusting grin, asking, "So, what's it like getting assaulted by an old man?" He even threatened to tell the whole school.

But Ryan came charging over like a pissed-off leopard, decked the guy right in the face, and roared with his eyes blazing red, "Do anything to hurt her and I'll kill you!"

In the end, that punk was all bruised and bloody, swearing he'd keep his mouth shut forever.

Back then, Ryan's broad back looked like it could shield me from anything the world threw at me.

I looked down, my fingers softly brushing over his face in the photo.

How could someone change so much, so quickly?

My phone buzzed with an email from Diana, reminding me to submit some missing documents.

I stuffed the photo into the bottom of my suitcase, grabbed my files, and headed downstairs.

Sure enough, Ryan was waiting for me downstairs.

He was rocking a black hoodie and jeans, still looking as hot as ever, and girls kept sneaking glances at him as they walked by.

When he saw me, he stubbed out his cigarette.

He walked over, reaching out to take my stuff like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Where are you going? The cafeteria? Let's go together," he said.

I sidestepped him, not even looking his way, and kept moving forward.

He paused for a second, his face falling with embarrassment.

"Megan, what do you want? Can you quit it already?" Ryan said.

I stopped in my tracks and finally met his eyes.

I said, "I'm not being dramatic.

"We're over, Ryan. Please let me go."

"We're over?" Ryan scoffed, like I'd just cracked the world's funniest joke.

He said, "What do you mean by that? Since when have you ever been able to live without me? You even turned down studying abroad because you couldn't stand to leave me, didn't you?

"Without me, where would you even go? Who else would ever want you?"

His questions hit me one after another, suffocating me with that overwhelming confidence and possessiveness.

It was as if, in his mind, I'd shrivel up and be completely helpless without him.

I pulled my hand back, tapped open a video from social media, and shoved my phone right in his face.

In the video, the bar was noisy, and the lighting was moody and sultry.

Lucine was showing off in a revealing spaghetti strap dress, giving the camera a flirty smile.

A guy, totally wasted, was buried in her neck, clinging to her like he couldn't let go.

The caption read: [Clingy boy.]

The comments were blowing up, and everyone was going wild trying to guess who the guy was.

But I was the only one who could spot that tiny light brown mole on his earlobe right away.

Back when I used to curl up in his arms, I'd absentmindedly trace that little mole with my fingers.

Because of everything I'd been through, I was terrified of revealing clothes and always shied away from intimacy that went too far.

Even after all this time together, the furthest we ever went was hugging and the occasional chaste kiss.

I used to feel guilty and ask Ryan if he thought I was boring.

He'd always patiently reassure me, saying it was okay, we could take things slow, and he didn't mind at all.

So he did mind, after all.

He just channeled all that passion and desire into someone who didn't hold back.

"I..." Ryan started, his throat tightening as he tried to get the words out.

He opened his mouth, struggling to explain. "I was wasted last night. Lucine kept coming onto me. It wasn't what you think..."

"Save it," I said, pulling my phone back and cutting off his feeble explanation.

"Whether it's what I think or not, it doesn't matter anymore," I said.

I shook off his hand, and this time, it was effortless.

"Ryan, we've been over for a long time," I said.

I didn't even glance at his stunned face. I just turned and walked away.