Chapter 1
The seventh year of my secret love for James Carter ended with his departure abroad. He was off to chase his dream girl.
*****
A light drizzle hung in the air that day at the airport, cold and clammy, clinging to my skin like a silent weight.
Clad in the white sundress he loved seeing me in, I stood outside the security checkpoint, forcing a composed smile onto my face.
"Safe travels, James," I said, my voice light, almost cheerful, as if he were heading off on a vacation, not halfway across the world to be with another woman.
His black suitcase in hand, James cut a tall, straight figure. Under the airport's pale, harsh lights, his profile looked cold and distant.
He looked down at me, his gaze unreadable, as if he was holding back a thousand words.
In the end, only three words escaped his lips. "Yeah, I'm off."
He turned, walked through security, and never looked back.
His retreating form was unwavering, a stark rejection of any lingering sentiment.
The smile on my face crumbled the second he vanished from sight.
My nails dug deep into my palms, leaving crescent-shaped blood marks, as I fought to hold back tears.
"Don't cry. Not here," I murmured to myself.
I turned, straightened my back, and walked out of the airport step by step, each movement stiff with suppressed emotion.
A taxi pulled up, and I slid into the backseat, giving the driver my home address.
He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowing at my ashen complexion.
"Miss, are you doing okay?" he asked, his voice gentle with concern.
"I'm fine," I replied, staring out the window at the blurring scenery. Rain streaked down the glass in twisted lines, mirroring the chaos in my chest.
"Just... a little cold."
My heart was frozen, cold and hollow, as if a piece of it had been torn away with his departure.
Once home, I locked my bedroom door tight.
From under my bed, I dragged a dusty cardboard box.
Inside was everything about James that made up my youth.
Blurry photos I'd secretly taken of him playing basketball in high school, printed out and frayed at the edges from years of handling.
Empty soda cans he'd tossed to me, telling me to throw them away, which I'd washed and kept hidden.
Scrap paper he'd thrown out, covered in his wild, unmistakable scrawl.
Three thick journals, from the age of fifteen to twenty-two, every page filled with his name.
Secretly liking someone was like a war raging inside my heart, and no one else even knew it was happening.
In this long, lonely drama, I'd poured all my passion and devotion, yet he'd never once looked at me as anything more than a little sister.
He'd glanced my way, sure, but his gaze was always warm, distant, and indulgent. Never anything more.
I tossed every item into the box one by one, including the journal I'd written in just the day before.
Its last page held a single line: [James left to chase his light. My world has gone dark.]
I closed the box, sealed it with tape, and carried the heavy load to the waste station at the back of my neighborhood.
Without a moment's hesitation, I dropped it into the largest trash bin.
A dull thud echoed, and something inside me seemed to die with it—seven years of unrequited love, buried in a heap of garbage.
Rain soaked my hair and shoulders, biting cold, but I felt nothing.
From that day on, I deleted all his contact information, left every group he was in, changed my phone number, and moved houses.
I avoided every place and person that might mention his name, determined to tear "James Carter" from my life completely.
The process was agony, like skinning myself alive, every step a fresh wound, but I did it.
Three long years passed, and I never saw him again, never heard a single word about him.
I worked hard, studied, built a career, and took care of my parents, pretending everything was normal.
Only I know the truth: a piece of me was missing, carved out clean. What was left was a hollow echo—cold, silent, and forever empty.
*****
That "calm" was shattered one afternoon, when my mother called, her voice cracking with sobs.
"Lily, come home, quick... Something big happened at the company!"
I rushed home and saw my parents, who looked like they'd aged ten years overnight, and that cold, impersonal asset valuation report lying on the table.
My father's construction company, built over decades, had collapsed. A catastrophic investment failure and betrayal by his business partners had snapped the capital chain, leaving the company insolvent and on the brink of bankruptcy.
Debt collectors camped outside the company gates, and the home phone rang nonstop.
The stress triggered my dad's old illness, and he ended up in the hospital.
My mother could do nothing but cry, helpless and distraught.
All the weight of the family crashed down on me, a girl who'd only been working for less than two years.
I had to save the company, save my family, no matter what.
I called every connection I had, begged every person I could, but the business world was ruthless.
Everyone loved to celebrate one's success, but when one was down, nobody was there to help.
All those so-called family friends who used to flatter us vanished into thin air.
In the end, an older college senior quietly gave me a lifeline. "Lily, I heard Summit Capital is looking into the local construction materials market and might be looking to invest.
"Their regional director here just returned to the country. This is your last shot. But... rumor has it, Mr. Carter's got a sharp eye and plays hardball. He's a tough nut to crack," he said.
At his words, A bad feeling coiled in my stomach, cold and heavy.
"What's his name?" I asked.
The senior sighed, uttering two words that stopped her heart, "James Carter."
Silence crashed over me, so loud I could only hear the thunderous pounding of my own heart.