I had been in love for ten years and engaged for five without a wedding. My best friend had always been indignant on my behalf, but I had made countless excuses for Conrad Truman. It wasn't until Susanna Lattimore showed up with a child in tow that I finally understood...

"I'm sorry, Sharon. It was... Conrad who brought us here. I didn't know you were in..."

I glanced at the little boy she was holding. His features bore a striking resemblance to Conrad.

"How old are you?"

"I'm five, Miss."

I smiled. Kids really couldn't lie.

"Sharon, I didn't mean to hurt you. Conrad and I are truly in love..."

"I have a flight to catch, so I won't linger."

Susanna and I had shared a dorm room in college. We often studied or had dinner together.

Who would have thought that the guy she bragged about marrying first in our dorm would turn out to be my boyfriend of ten years, Conrad?

...

My hands and feet were ice-cold as I exited the airplane lavatory.

The turbulence made me unsteady, and I stumbled into a man's lap, right between his legs.

The fabric of his trousers was clearly bespoke, quite expensive.

I hurriedly tried to get up and apologize, but a pair of strong hands firmly pressed me down.

I couldn't move.

The first thought that popped into my head was that I had encountered a pervert in, on an airplane!

"Pervert! Someone's molesting me! Help!"

My cries were muffled against the fabric of his trousers, and I had no idea if anyone could hear me.

I struggled against his tight grip, trying to break free.

It seemed like he was determined to molest me openly on the plane.

My nails scratched against some part of him.

He let out a deep sigh, and the pressure on my waist eased a little.

Sensing the change, I tried to push myself up again, but another bout of turbulence threw me back into his arms.

This time, his hands just encircled me to keep me within his reach.

It seemed like a protective gesture. His hands no longer touched my body.

...

At that moment, I found myself leaning against his shoulder.

I tried to move, but he stopped me. "Don't move. We're experiencing severe turbulence."

As soon as he said that, the plane jolted violently, the wing dipping sharply and dropping several feet.

I heard everyone in the cabin gasp, some even screaming in distress.

Clearly, the prolonged turbulence was getting to them.

As for me, my mind was preoccupied with the fact that I hadn't petted Bobby, my cat, before leaving the house. I hadn't hugged him or kissed him.

He would be waiting for me at the door, staring intently at the keyhole, not moving or sleeping...

Even if Conrad was at home, Bobby knew he didn't like him and wouldn't go near him. He wouldn't rest until he saw me.

...

My fingers clenched involuntarily.

People say that right before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. But my memory hadn't even started flashing, and here I was, about to die?

I stayed in that man's arms for what felt like an eternity, long enough to believe we had encountered some disaster.

Then, I heard a soothing baritone voice. "Don't be afraid. It's alright. I'm here; nothing will happen to you..."

The voice came again and again, sounding distant and unreal.

In a daze, I lifted my head and looked at him through blurry eyes.

For a moment, Conrad's familiar face overlapped with the man's in front of me.

The terror of surviving a near-death experience overwhelmed me, and I buried myself in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

It was as if all the tears I'd been holding back for so long were finally being released.

Eventually, I ran out of tears and my consciousness started to return.

I realized that the man before me was not Conrad.

I was just alone on this flight to Hord City, narrowly avoiding disaster.

...

"Here, take this."

The man handed me a tissue, and I wiped away my tears.

As my vision cleared, I noticed his once immaculate clothes were now wrinkled and damp from my tears and fear-induced grip marks.

I could even see faint outlines of his chest muscles beneath the soaked fabric.

"Sharon, get a grip on yourself!"

I silently cursed myself and looked at him apologetically.

"I'm so sorry, Sir. How much was your outfit? I'll pay for it."

He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and looked at me with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

I assumed his manners prevented him from quoting an outrageous amount.

"It's fine, really. Just tell me. I might not have enough cash on me. Could you leave me your bank account number? I'll transfer the money to you."

"Can I give you my number?"

"Huh?" I paused but quickly responded, "Sure."

He took my phone and typed. A new number appeared in my contacts.

"Contact me when you're convenient."

"Okay, I'm so sorry."

With the help of a flight attendant, I returned to my seat, and from there, I could see the man again; our seats were quite close.

...

Five hours later, the plane landed in Hord City, and I received a call from Conrad.

"Why did it take so long for you to answer?"

"The plane..." I swallowed my words, not wanting to explain further. "It was delayed."

"Mom said the ointment you brought last time worked well. Get some more when you come back from this trip."

"Okay."

My job often required me to travel, mostly between Hord City and Trury City.

If Conrad cared enough, he'd have noticed that my flight was delayed by three hours.

But he knew and didn't say a word.

The truth was, I was no longer his priority. Perhaps, I wasn't even on his list anymore...

Suppressing my bitterness, I asked, "Conrad, is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"What do you mean?"

I heard the sound of a door closing and, faintly, a woman's voice that quickly faded away.

I laughed bitterly. It was ironic.

In fact, as soon as I got off the plane, a message from Susanna popped up on my phone.

The content was: [Sharon, do you need help packing your things?]

Susanna seemed overly eager.

Clearly, Conrad knew nothing about this and intended to keep treating me like a fool.

"It's nothing. I've got to go now," I said, hanging up the call.

...

I returned to the hotel, quickly showered, and rushed to meet with a client. After the meeting concluded and contracts were signed, I thought everything was settled. However, the client was in high spirits and insisted on celebrating with drinks.

Although I have a mild allergy to alcohol, I didn't decline the invitation.

I drank until I was hunched over a toilet, vomiting uncontrollably.

It was already four o'clock in the morning.

My assistant saw the client off, and after taking a sobering pill and getting some fresh air, I felt relatively sober.

I hailed a cab and got in.

My assistant's loud calls from outside were muffled by the car windows and the cold wind.

At four o'clock in the morning, the sky was starting to lighten. The dark horizon was pierced by golden streaks.

It reminded me of Conrad's awkward and earnest confession when he first asked me to be his girlfriend.

He had nervously held my hand, looking dazed as he asked, "Would you be my girlfriend?"

Back then, he was a proud, spirited young man. Despite the lectures from teachers and parents, he insisted on holding my hand and running freely across the school grounds.

I remembered... Conrad was waiting in line to buy me a Pretzel, his ears turning red from the cold, but he kept it warm in his jacket to ensure it wouldn't get cold for me.

He said, "I can't let it catch a bit of cold, not for my dear Sharon."

I thought those moments would last forever...

When the driver informed me we had arrived, I was still lost in my memories, tears streaming down my face.

I thanked him, opened the door, and got out, only to trip over the steps.

I felt a sharp pain in my knee, sure that I had scraped it badly.

The pain was so intense it felt like my bones might have fractured.

Turned out I was not sober.

That was the day when I first met Hugh Mackintosh.

A pair of polished men's shoes appeared before me, and a deep, pleasant voice sounded above me. "Can you stand up?"

I looked up at the sound.

He was tall, bathed in the first light of dawn, with a halo of silver radiance surrounding him like a deity descending to earth.

I was entranced, forgetting my disheveled state as I sat on the ground.

He crouched down, and only then did I realize this was the man from the plane, the one whose pristine suit I had ruined. His entire demeanor radiated nobility.

"What a coincidence, meeting again," I murmured, not sure if he heard me.

"You've been drinking?" he asked, though it sounded more like a statement. "And quite a lot, it seems."

Before I could respond, I suddenly felt myself being lifted.

Looking up, I found our faces were now only inches apart.

He cradled me in his arms, and to steady myself, I had to wrap my arms around his neck.

His features were striking—high-bridged nose, sharp jawline...

Perhaps it was the lingering effects of the alcohol, but I couldn't stop my gaze from drifting downward, oblivious to how intrusive it was.

"You look so familiar..." I slurred.

He paused briefly before continuing to walk. "You should update your pickup lines."