Chapter 1

My best friend, Emily Summers, and I shared the same fate. We both kept our relationships hidden from the world.

I stuck by my boyfriend, Lucas Grant, for seven years, watching him go from playing bit parts to becoming a movie star.

She stood by hers for eight years, from undergrad all the way to his PhD at Metropolitan University.

We made a pact: once their careers took off, we'd have a double wedding, move in next door to each other, and team up to wrangle our kids.

Thinking about those lively days ahead, I'd already picked out my bridesmaid dress.

But then, on the Thanksgiving Special, Lucas went public with his fiancée, an ordinary girl.

As soon as the call connected, a girl in the audience stood up, her face flushed.

But what happened to Emily was more devastating.

Her boyfriend took a girl back to his hometown to meet his parents, then posted it on his social media with the caption: [Finally found the one.]

I met up with her, and we drank ourselves silly, crying and hiccupping. "He never meant to recognize me. Seven years of my life, thrown away."

She was clutching her beer can, tears rolling down her cheeks. "He only cares about that girl. Eight years, and it all meant nothing."

Just then, we saw a gossip account leak the news that both guys were planning to release statements the next day, accusing us of chasing clout and cutting us off for good.

We exchanged a look and wiped our faces.

"How about we pack up and head to Zephyria right now?" I suggested.

"Let's do it. I heard some hostels are hiring volunteers, providing free food and free board, and we can scope out the local hotties," Emily replied.

Three days later, the two guys' denial statements shot to the top of the trending list.

Meanwhile, we were hanging out by the Auralia Sea, learning how to make BBQ from a local hottie, our cheeks rosy from the sun.

*****

"The heat is right. Try brushing on another layer of honey," the local hottie said as he handed me a long brush.

I dipped the brush into the honey.

As I moved my wrist closer to the coals, a spark flew up and singed the back of my hand. I pulled back.

My phone had been buzzing nonstop in my apron pocket since morning.

Emily was turning the food on the grill, nudging me with her elbow. "Your phone is about to explode. Aren't you gonna check it?"

I set the brush down, wiped my hands with a tissue, and pulled out my phone.

The lock screen was already flooded with notifications.

I opened Twitter, and the top two hashtags were practically screaming at me. [Lucas Grant Denies Seven-Year Secret Relationship], and [Metropolitan University PhD David Shaw Responds to Relationship Drama].

Both guys dropped their statements almost simultaneously, and the format was freakishly identical.

Lucas's studio released an official legal notice stamped with their seal. [The so-called seven-year secret relationship is a complete fabrication.

[Mr. Grant and the woman mentioned were acquaintances from the early days on set, and they haven't spoken in years.

[Recently, someone seems to be riding the Thanksgiving Special hype to spread malicious rumors. We reserve the right to take legal action.

[Things are going well between Mr. Grant and his fiancée. Please respect their privacy and leave them alone.]

Emily leaned over for a look and let out a sarcastic laugh. "Acquaintances? Back when he was a broke extra who couldn't afford a meal, was it some acquaintance who covered his rent?"

I didn't say anything, scrolled down, and opened David's response.

David didn't post on Twitter. Instead, he posted a long message on the university forum and his feed.

His wording was careful, but there was an unmistakable air of aloof superiority. [Sorry for wasting everyone's time with these baseless rumors.

[Emily and I were classmates for years, never anything more.

[She has been emotionally unstable lately. So don't let one-sided stories fool anyone, and please leave my girlfriend alone.

[We have made it official, and this is the real deal I've always hoped for. Thanks for your concern.]

After reading it, Emily tossed the tongs onto the grill with a loud clang. "Just classmates? Seriously, what kind of classmate gets up at six every morning for eight years to make him oatmeal for his sensitive stomach?"

I scrolled through the comments under the trending topic, and the fans were already going wild.

Someone dug up an old photo from his early days on set.

In the picture, Lucas was a background actor with not a single line.

He was dressed in a grimy period costume, squatting by the roadside in the freezing winter night, eating from a takeout box, with a gray handmade scarf wrapped around his neck.

The comments were all about how tough his journey had been, how sentimental he was, and how he'd worn that beat-up scarf for years.

I looked at that scarf, and my eyes started to sting.

Seven years ago, I spent my very first paycheck on yarn and pulled three all-nighters to knit that scarf for him.