I sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly ahead.

Loud noises echoed outside the door as Miles seemed to be smashing things again. At some point, he had developed this habit of expressing his dissatisfaction with me through this method.

The first time it happened, he broke our matching mugs. Then, he shattered the ceramic figurines we had made together. The final straw was when he threw our engagement rings straight out the window…

…

Countless waves of sadness crashed over me. It was like I was being suffocated. I suddenly felt overwhelmingly tired.

I lowered my gaze to my wrist, where the bruises had left purple scars that looked like a circular blade. It was slicing through my heart and slowly cutting away the decayed parts of my soul.

Then, the doorbell rang, and the living room abruptly fell silent. I stood and walked out. The place was a complete mess by now, and it was utterly unrecognizable.

Pieces of our photos lay shredded across the floor in the living room, glaringly out of place. I simply slowly closed my eyes.

I was 19 when Miles saved me and carried me into his car. From then on, I gained the nickname "little damsel".

Miles never formally introduced me to his friends. On the rare occasions we met them, I would overhear whispers and teasing comments like, "Oh, so this is Miles' little damsel?"

I thought I wasn't good enough for Miles, so I worked relentlessly to get into a top university. I also discovered my passion. That was how I pursued my dreams in the world I loved while yearning to be a part of his.

Back then, I would often cup my face with a smile and ask, "Miles, when will you marry me? When will you introduce me to your friends?"

Miles would only pat my head and give me a fond smile. He never directly answered my questions, so I always assumed he just wasn't ready to make promises.

Until one day, I happened to sit in the booth behind him and his friends where we were separated by a screen.

Miles had spoken casually, "I do like her. She's stunning, and I could say she's one in a million. Otherwise, I wouldn't have gone against everyone to carry her into the car back then.

"But she's so resilient, like hardy grass. Hardy grass can't compare to the delicate charm of a begonia, which makes you want to cherish it.

"Even so, she cares enough about me. She'll eventually back down no matter how much she protests. I don't even need to put in much effort to mollify her. I think I could keep her around for a few more years."

"I guess meeting you was truly her misfortune then…"

"What a headache. This is such a nuisance."

They talked about me like I meant nothing. Back then, I had to struggle to steady myself, forcing my back straight to suppress the bitterness in my heart.

That was when I realized I was nothing more than a bother to Miles. But still, I naively believed that if I behaved better and became even more outstanding, Miles would stop seeing me as a nuisance.

I began tolerating all his bad temper without limits. It seemed his habit of smashing things started when I abandoned my boundaries.

Later, when his so-called "begonia" Nora returned, I realized that after all these years, I was still just a nuisance in his life.

Miles was holding me in his arms when his friend mentioned Nora. His usually calm and indifferent expression flickered with a trace of longing.

"Nora? She's such a delicate little flower. If I were single, I'd keep her like a treasure in a golden house. She deserves to be adorned with jewels, and she's always so proud and beautiful."

I forced a smile while I was still in his arms. At the same time, the nails I had done to please him dug painfully into my palms. I pretended to be strong as I endured all the pitiful glances directed my way.

From then on, I started to reexamine our relationship and realized it had always been one-sided. It was nothing but a futile effort.

After I finished packing my belongings, I suddenly received a photo. It was Miles from behind, and he was fresh out of the shower.

He was wearing only a white towel around his waist. His broad shoulders were undeniably attractive. Meanwhile, Nora was dressed in a lace nightgown as she stared directly at the camera with a smug, provocative look.

Before I could reply, Nora retracted the message. I had grown tiresome of this little game of hers.

Ever since she returned, she had been sending me photos of her and Miles in intimate moments.

I remembered the first time I confronted Miles about it. He glanced at me briefly, then smiled indulgently. "Nora? She's just trying to tease you. Even after all these years, she's still so mischievous."

"Miles, what are you saying?" I stared at him in disbelief.

His smile faded, and he let out a faint scoff. "Don't come to me with this nonsense again. If Nora and I wanted to be together, we would've done so long ago."

This time, I quietly blocked Nora.

I casually opened another chat and, after some thought, sent a message to him. "I'm planning to join a water conservation project in Affenheim. Maybe I'll spend the rest of my life there."

…

After graduation, I gave up staying at the university to become Miles' secretary. Then, Miles arranged for Nora to join the company when she returned. I had become redundant to him not only in our relationship but also at work.

I arrived at the office with my resignation letter, only to find myself sharing the elevator with Miles' nephew, Carter Graham. He was two years younger than me but had already established himself firmly in the company, standing as an equal to Miles.

After a few moments of silence, Carter finally spoke in surprise. "Little damsel, are you really going to Affenheim?"

"Don't call me little damsel anymore. Your uncle and I will soon have nothing to do with each other," I replied in exasperation.

Carter chuckled lightly at my response.

I smiled faintly. "Later, I'll need you to help me finalize a contract."

After Nora took over my position, Miles stopped paying attention to whether I stayed or left. I was even transferred to Carter's department. Although Miles still saw me at the company daily, he never realized I had already stepped out of his sphere of influence.

Carter said in a low voice, "It'll be hard for us to see each other again."

Looking at my reflection in the elevator doors, I replied, "Let's leave it to fate."

As the elevator doors opened, Miles and Nora were standing there, chatting intimately. The moment Miles saw me with Carter, his expression darkened instantly.

"Leilani Jabs, are you so desperate for a man that you're talking about 'fate' with someone younger?"

I simply smiled faintly at him, unwilling to respond.

Carter cleared his throat. "Uncle Miles, you misunderstood Leilani. Don't you have someone else now anyway?"

Nora's lips curled into a satisfied smile. Then, Miles took a deliberate step away from Nora in response, his expression unchanged. Nora's smile quickly faltered.

A hint of mockery flashed in Carter's eyes. Nonetheless, I found the entire exchange utterly boring.

After leaving Carter's office with my signed resignation letter, I bumped into Miles storming toward me. I calmly flipped the document over to hide its contents, but Miles still caught a glimpse of the word "resignation".

His brows furrowed deeply as he said, "What were you doing with Carter? What could you possibly have to talk about with him? Are you trying to use resignation to threaten me? Can't you think bigger? I'm only looking out for an old friend—"

Feeling exasperated, I interrupted him, "A colleague asked me to deliver a document for Carter to sign."

Miles fell silent. He simply rubbed his nose to mask his embarrassment.

"Anything else?" I asked expressionlessly.

Miles hesitated before remembering why he had approached me. "Nora's coming with me to meet a client. You don't like going to these things, so she'll handle it in your place."

I stared at him quietly.

After a moment, he added, "She said your nails are beautifully done and wanted you to help her with hers."

I couldn't help but chuckle bitterly. My nails were ordinary, but Miles had a fixation on hands—he adored women with perfectly manicured, long fingers.

I had searched high and low for a nail artist who could meet his standards but never found one. In the end, I learned to do it myself.

I had meticulously shaped and maintained my nails, and spent an absurd amount of time and effort on them. Looking back, it felt like such a waste of my precious time.

"I'm not some nail salon girl," I said coldly.

Miles' expression darkened. He knew how absurd the request was, but he had promised Nora and probably didn't want to turn her down. Caught in a bind, he chose to put me in an uncomfortable position instead.

We remained at an impasse, and whispers began to ripple through the people around us. I grew impatient and said, "Fine."

Relief spread across Miles' face as he turned to walk off. "I already had someone bring over your tools."

I simply followed him, feeling utterly helpless.

As we entered Miles' office and stepped into the inner lounge, I immediately saw Nora sprawled seductively on the sofa bed where Miles took his midday naps. She was wearing a black, revealing dress with slits running high up her thighs.

"Miles…" She purred as she raised her head, but upon seeing me, her tone sharpened. "What are you doing here?"

A flicker of panic flashed in Miles' eyes. He opened his mouth to explain, but when he saw my complete lack of reaction, his unease only deepened.

I blinked at her. "Didn't you ask Miles to call me to do your nails?"

Nora smirked with disdain. Rising gracefully, she tilted her chin toward a bag in the corner. I silently walked over, picked up the bag, and began working on her nails.

Perhaps my silence suffocated Miles, or maybe he couldn't stand seeing me bowing and scraping for someone else. He loosened his tie and stormed out of the room.

Nora chuckled softly, leaning close to whisper in my ear, "You're such a natural-born servant."

I laughed at myself but didn't respond.

Seeing me ignore her, Nora grabbed a large nail clipper from the side. Before I could react, she clipped her own finger, drawing blood.

"Miles!" She shrieked in agony.

Miles burst into the room. The moment he saw blood trickling from her finger, his fury erupted. "Leilani Jabs, what's wrong with you?"

I was stunned.

He swept all the nail tools off the table with a loud crash, shouting in rage, "How many times do I have to say it? Even if Nora wanted to compete with you, could you ever become my official girlfriend?

"Why can't you tolerate her? She's been pampered her whole life and can't stand even a bit of pain, yet you went and hurt her!"

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I fought to keep them from falling. I thought back to the time I collapsed in convulsions, and his first reaction was to accuse me of faking it.

Had I truly died with no one to help, would he have cared? Yet now, Nora suffered a mere nick on her finger, and he already lost his composure. He was even spewing thoughtless words.

I watched their retreating figures, swallowing my tears and feeling a strange sense of relief. He truly didn't love me.

I didn't bother cleaning up the mess. Instead, I grabbed my resignation letter and numbly went home under the sympathetic gazes of the entire office.

I had finally gathered all my documents. Just then, my mentor messaged me, letting me know they had booked a flight for me that evening to Affenheim.

…

I scrolled through my phone at the airport to pass the time and stumbled upon a post from a mutual friend Miles and I had.

The caption read, "A loving partner truly rises to greatness. Mr. Graham showed us the power of true love. I hope to meet my own one true love someday."

The attached photo showed Miles with his arm around Nora's waist. It seemed like he had effortlessly held his own in a drinking contest.

I suddenly remembered the times I accompanied him to meet clients. Back then, he allowed them to make things difficult for me, leaving me to drink until my stomach ached. That was all while telling me he was helping me build resilience.

I let out a bitter laugh, liked the client's post, and sent Miles a text. "Let's break up."

A minute later, the familiar ringtone of an incoming video call rang out incessantly.