Chapter 3
Julian was a year my senior, the most revered figure on campus, living in a stratosphere entirely separate from my own.
After he rescued me, the bullying stopped cold, all because of one simple line from him.
I washed the cedar-scented handkerchief carefully, holding onto it for weeks, hoping for a chance to return it. But I never found a moment alone to thank him, too terrified that being seen with me would tarnish his reputation.
That day, Julian had appeared like a prince to save me, becoming a fragile, secret dream I held close to my heart.
The years passed until graduation, the year of Julian's twenty-first birthday and coming-of-age. Vincent's application to the National Pheromone Compatibility Registry finally returned a result.
Data analysis confirmed a perfect one hundred percent pheromone match between Julian and me.
Only 0.1% of people in the world ever find a perfect pheromone match. It was a cosmic bond. Those with perfect compatibility fell irrevocably in love under the pull of their pheromones, and their unions produced exceptionally gifted offspring.
When Vincent arrived with the compatibility report, I was stunned breathless by the unbelievable news, my hands shaking so violently I could barely grip the paper.
Vincent arranged a single meeting between us, and we married legally six months later.
On that day, I removed my thick black-rimmed glasses, fumbled with colored contact lenses, and splurged on a professional makeup artist and stylist to transform my look.
The girl in the mirror wore a perfectly tailored blush-pink dress, with bright, clear eyes and a delicate oval face flushed soft pink.
The makeup artist's eyes lit up. She exclaimed that I was stunning without my glasses, completely transformed.
I stared at my reflection, my heart pounding with anxious doubt.
Would Julian like me this way?
When we finally met, he arrived late, his expression colder than frozen steel, his cedar pheromones sharp and icy.
I plucked up every ounce of courage to meet his gaze, clutching the gift box holding his handkerchief under the table. I wanted to ask if he remembered me, to thank him, to return the handkerchief at last.
But he only glanced at me once, letting out a faint, dismissive scoff. "Perfect pheromone match? So what."
Our pheromones tangled and merged seamlessly, as if we were crafted for one another. Yet his eyes remained utterly vacant, as if I were no more than a passing stranger to him.
*****
Our wedding was scheduled for six months later, and the entire academy erupted in gossip. Whispers spread through hallways and online forums alike.
Students called me a lucky, plain nobody, claimed Julian had drawn the short straw, and muttered that he'd fought his father's control only to be shut down harshly. Everyone swore he'd divorce me the second he took charge of the family business.
Julian, standing at the center of the storm, listened to it all with complete indifference. A year ahead of me, he finished his graduation paperwork and left school without a second glance at the rumors.
I was left behind, still stared at and judged, clinging to a foolish, impossible dream.
Yet I embraced every second of it.
Julian got into one of the country's top universities, majoring in finance.
Words had always been my strength. Essays, history papers, social studies? I could handle those with my eyes closed. But subjects demanded by a finance track? Just looking at them made my vision swim.
Getting into the same major as him felt like a distant dream; merely reaching the admissions bar for his elite university already seemed miles beyond my grasp.
Yet, the desire to walk the same campus, to maybe even share a similar academic path, burned fiercely. If it meant we'd have more to talk about, I was desperate to seize any chance that might bring us closer together.
So I dove in. My life narrowed to a dimly lit desk, cold coffee, and endless problem sets. Sleep happened in brief, accidental crashes over open textbooks.
Meals were forgotten, replaced by dry granola bars when my stomach growled.
Every waking moment was a fight against numbers and graphs that refused to make sense, a desperate, headlong rush to cross a bridge I wasn't sure I could build.
We had no wedding ceremony. Vincent refused to make a spectacle of our mismatched backgrounds and appearances, keeping the marriage quiet.
On the day we registered our union, dark circles ringed my eyes from endless studying, my cheeks slightly hollow.
The makeup artist carefully covered my fatigue, smiling warmly as she wished me a happy new marriage.
Julian leaned nearby in a tailored shirt, his expression distant and cold. "Ms. Wayne, some things cannot be forced, no matter how hard you work."
I smiled and shook my head gently.
He fell silent for a moment, then spoke again, "We are not meant to be. I will never love you. You still have time to back out."
The thought of loving him gave me endless courage. I straightened my back, biting my lip as I replied, "It doesn't matter. I will love you always."
A month later, university admissions results were released. My standardized test scores far exceeded the average acceptance mark for Julian's school, and I received an offer without hesitation.
Unfortunately, the finance program I'd applied to as my first choice was fiercely competitive. I missed the cutoff by just one point and was admitted to the management program instead.
I held the acceptance letter and cried for an entire afternoon. When Julian came home, I sobbed through my words, "I'm sorry... I was only one point away. I could have—"
Julian looked at me with rare surprise, took the letter, and scanned it.
He sighed softly, brushing a hand over my hair in reluctant resignation. "Evelyn Wayne, you've done all you can. Perhaps we really aren't meant to be."