However, Bruce was also the one who had hurt me the most.

Taking a deep breath, I asked, "Do you even know what day it is today?"

He searched his mind desperately, but no answer came to him.

Watching him struggle to remember, I let out a bitter laugh. "Today is the day I sold my script rights."

As soon as the words left my lips, my tears followed.

For a fleeting moment, guilt flickered in Bruce's eyes.

Years ago, we both got accepted into the Film Academy—his dream was to become an outstanding actor.

And I, without hesitation, chose the playwriting major.

I loved him so much that I lost myself, making his dreams my own.

After years of polishing scripts inspired by him, I had finally sold one.

And yet, to him, I was only worthy of fetching coffee.

I no longer looked at him. Turning away, I was ready to leave.

But he grabbed my hand. "Come on, I was just joking. Do you have to take it so seriously?"

"Selling a script doesn’t even mean it’ll be produced, so what’s with the attitude?"

I stared at him, feeling my emotions drain away.

I used to believe that even if he didn’t love me now, as long as I waited and kept giving, one day he’d see me.

But I had forgotten—the person I should love the most in this life wasn’t him. It was myself.

The boy who once fought off bullies for me, who punched and kicked the thug that deflated my bike tires, had long since vanished in the pursuit of fame and fortune.

I let out a bitter smile, ready to pull my hand away.

Just then, Gianna pushed open the door, her voice was sugary sweet. "Bruce, did you get my coffee?"

Bruce immediately let go of my hand and walked toward her, deliberately creating distance between us—as if to show his unwavering loyalty in front of her.

"N-no, not yet," he stammered.

It hit me then—the coffee wasn’t even for him. It was for Gianna.

She stood there in a pristine white princess dress, radiating elegance.

"Ysabelle, are you here to visit the set?" she asked, smiling as she linked arms with Bruce. "Don’t worry, I’m taking good care of him."

Though her words were friendly, her eyes were filled with provocation.

Bruce chuckled, playing along. "Of course, Gia is the best at taking care of me."

The crew around them immediately chimed in with flattery.

"Everyone knows Gianna runs around the set all day, working herself to exhaustion!"

"Yeah, in such a small space, she still racks up thousands of steps on Pacer Pedometer!"

I let out a cold laugh. Gianna never left the crew’s luxury trailer, enjoying air-conditioning in summer and heating in winter. There was no way she was running herself ragged.

And besides, how could Bruce ever let the woman he cherished suffer even a little?

Gianna basked in their praise, looking even more pleased.

"See, Ysabelle? You can rest easy and leave Bruce to me."

Bruce’s voice was filled with disdain. "Ysabelle has no family, so of course, she has to place all her affection on me."

"With nothing better to do, all she can do is wander around and watch others live their lives."

His words shattered me completely, cutting deeper than I ever imagined they could.

I never thought he would use something like this as a joke.

Yes, I had no family.

My mother was assaulted, and I was the result.

After giving birth, she had wanted to strangle me, but my grandmother had begged for my life, saying I was still a living being.

Unable to endure the overwhelming gossip and slander, my mother drowned herself in the bathtub.

I was raised by my grandmother, but she passed away a few years ago.

Before she left, she told me to stay by Bruce’s side and take care of him.

For a moment, I stood frozen, unable to tell her—he already had someone else.

My breath came in ragged gasps. My throat tightened.

But no words came out.

The childhood friend I had loved for so many years was now holding the sharpest knife, twisting it over and over in my heart.

Gianna scoffed and patted Bruce’s arm. "You too—knowing she has no one, couldn’t you at least introduce her to a man?"

"You two grew up together. It wouldn't be right to leave her all alone, would it?"

She looked at me with feigned pity, as if she truly had my best interests at heart.

Bruce kissed Gianna’s forehead, his voice indulgent. "Gia, you’re always so thoughtful. Otherwise, Ysabelle would just keep wasting time."

Gianna’s interest deepened. "What kind of guy do you like? Tell us, and we’ll help you find a match."

"That won’t be necessary," I spat coldly.

My gaze sharpened—there was no way she was doing this out of kindness.

Gianna pouted, looking pitifully at Bruce. "Did I do something wrong? Ysabelle seems upset."

"I’m just thinking about her. It’s not easy being a woman on her own."

Bruce’s heart softened instantly.

His brows furrowed as he scolded me harshly. "Gia is kindly introducing you to someone, and this is how you act? Don't you have a conscience?"

The people around them immediately chimed in.

"It’s only because Gianna is beautiful and kind. Otherwise, who would even bother?"

"With that temper, no wonder no one wants her."

Someone sneered at me. "Don’t tell me you’re still eyeing someone else’s boyfriend? How shameless!"

The moment those words fell, Bruce tensed up. He squeezed Gianna’s hand tighter, instantly drawing a clear line between us.

"Don’t talk nonsense. Ysabelle and I are just good friends."

He turned to Gianna and vowed sincerely, "Gia, my heart belongs only to you."

Gianna sighed dramatically as she looked at me. "We’re both women. Do you really think I don’t know what you're thinking?"

"Some people are simply never meant to be yours. Why keep holding on?"

Compared to her, it seemed like I was the one drowning in delusions.

She took out her phone and scrolled through a few photos.

"Look at these guys—I think they’d suit you well."

"This one is honest and reliable, mature and stable."

I took a closer look. "That’s just a fancy way of saying he’s old, with no real advantages."

Gianna quickly switched to another photo. "What about this one? He may not be tall, but he’s a good man who knows how to build a life and be practical."

"Short and stingy?" My words wiped the smug expression off her face. Her smile stiffened, her expression darkening.

Bruce shot me an irritated look. "Who are you to be picky? Do you even know your own worth?"

"Just pick any random guy on set and be done with it. It’s not like it matters who you marry."

I stared at him in disbelief, my nails digging into my palms.

Even a stranger wouldn’t say something so cruel.

I looked at him, a bitter smile forming on my lips. "Is this how lowly you see me?"

Bruce pressed his lips together. Maybe he realized he had gone too far. He was about to speak, but Gianna cut in before he could.

"A girl’s lifelong happiness is important. Bruce, don’t push her too hard. After all..."

After all, what?

She didn’t finish her sentence.

After all, I have no family? After all, unlike her, I wasn’t born into wealth?

Bruce, ever attentive, brought over a chair for Gianna and even slipped off her heels to massage her feet gently.

"You’re just too kind. You should think about whether she even appreciates it."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. "That won’t be necessary. I already have a boyfriend."

Bruce’s expression instantly darkened. "You do? Since when? Why don’t I know about this?"

Three sharp questions, as if he genuinely cared.

"Oh? Do I need to report everything to you at all times?"

Hearing my defiant words, Bruce's brief moment of tension disappeared instantly, replaced by a mocking smirk. "You don't have to put on an act just to save face. Where's this so-called boyfriend of yours? Why not bring him out for us to see?"

"Have you kissed him? Slept with him?" he added.

His gaze swept over me from head to toe, filled with disdain. "With that ugly body of yours, would anyone even want you?"

His words sent an icy chill through me, freezing me to my core. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around myself, holding on tightly.

I had devoted everything to Bruce. How could I possibly have a boyfriend?

He was right. My body had long since become something no one would want to look at.

In my second year of high school, a fire broke out in our alley and spread to my home. I had been alone, studying in my room, and the suffocating smoke quickly rendered me unconscious.

It was Bruce who drenched himself in water, ignored the shouts of those trying to stop him, and wrapped himself in a bedsheet before charging into the flames to carry me out.

I had survived, but the burns left scars across my body—marks that deepened over the years, reminders of that night.

The boy who had once risked his life to save me was now the one ripping open my wounds.

How did we end up like this?

Back then, when people mocked me, Bruce would step in front of me and declare, "Ysabelle is the most beautiful girl in the world!"

He had spent an entire summer hauling crates of watermelons at a fruit stand just to buy me the best scar treatment cream.

Looking at him now, I realized—this was torment. I might just end up hating him.

Gianna, however, was enjoying the moment, eager to tear open my wounds and pour salt over them.

Bruce hadn’t said it outright, but he leaned in close to Gianna’s ear, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.

"Be good. I'll tell you all about it in bed later."

Gianna giggled in his arms, her laughter laced with flirtation.

The people around them weren’t ready to let me off either, continuing their jeers.

"Who are you trying to fool? You probably made it all up."

"Some people will say anything just to save face."

A man with yellowed teeth even had the audacity to reach for my hand.

"If you don’t have anyone, I wouldn’t mind taking you. I mean, we can always turn off the lights at night."

His words sent ripples of laughter through the crowd.

I clenched my jaw, stomach churning with disgust, dodging as best I could.

But the people around me seemed to be nudging and shoving on purpose, forcing me closer to him.

I lifted my gaze to Bruce, locking eyes with him.

He didn’t stop them.

Not even a flicker of hesitation.

Just as that disgusting hand was about to graze my shoulder, a strong arm pulled me firmly into a protective embrace—blocking out all the malice.

"Sorry, I’m here to pick up my girlfriend."

My heart pounded wildly. Since when did I have a boyfriend?