On our third anniversary, while my boyfriend, Chris Walker, was out throwing a party for his childhood friend Chloe Kade, he texted me to pick him up.

I arrived early and just happened to see him and Chloe doing a drinking ritual, surrounded by his cheering friends.

When Chloe saw me, her eyes welled up with tears.

"Ashley, I'm sorry, I lost at truth or dare just now. Please don't blame Chris."

Chris patiently comforted her for a long time before turning to me with a frown.

"It's just a game, no need to make it ugly, Ashley, you should be nicer."

I couldn't help but laugh; it seemed it was time to consider a breakup.

Everyone in the room turned to look at me, nervously anticipating the drama.

I had seen enough of these scenes; the passion I once felt had finally cooled.

Calmly, I walked up to them and suddenly raised my hand, startling Chloe.

"What are you scared of? I'm not going to hit you."

I threw the car keys onto the table in front of them, making a harsh clinking sound.

Chloe startled like a frightened rabbit, collapsed into Chris's arms, openly challenging me.

Yet, she managed to look utterly terrified of me, biting her lower lip pitifully at Chris.

"Chris, I think Ashley is furious. What should I do? I didn't mean to make things difficult for you. I'm so sorry, Chris."

Chris, heartbroken, tenderly reassured her, "Don't cry, it's not a big deal, our Coco crying wouldn't look good."

"Ashley, I apologize to Coco. It's my fault for spoiling you this much over the years."

I couldn't bear to look at him anymore, grabbing the half-bottle of beer left on the table and downing it.

The alcohol reminded me of the past.

Chris used to be all about me, unable to stand anyone stirring trouble between us.

Now, I had changed in his eyes, and he was no longer the Chris who loved me so deeply.

"Ashley, what are you doing? Who let you drink? How will you drive Coco and me home now?"

Chloe hid in Chris's arms, smirking as Chris frowned and scolded me.

I couldn't be bothered to argue.

"Chris, let's break up. I haven't sunk low enough to start picking up trash."

Chris laughed absurdly, his confusion tinged with deep anger.

"Ashley, enough. Who are you calling trash?"

My eyes were dry, yet not a single tear fell.

My words came out cold.

"No difference, all the same."

Chloe, as if deeply insulted, ran out crying, her eyes swollen. Chris's face darkened, his gaze fiery.

"Isn't this enough? This time, if you don't apologize to Coco, I won't forgive you," he said, grabbing the keys and chasing after her.

I brushed away the tears that laughter had brought to my eyes.

Indeed, men were born fickle, always thinking of the next best thing.

Chris didn't return until dawn the next day, his face showing slight satisfaction, a faint scent of soap on his body.

He sat down beside me and casually presented a small bunch of roses from his bag.

"Ashley, still angry?"

I glanced at them, wilted, probably having been at Chloe's for days.

And roses, Chloe's favorite flower, yet my least liked.

I flicked the flowers into the trash can at my feet, then repeatedly wiped my fingers that had touched the flowers with an alcohol wipe.

"I'll move out in a few days once I find a place."

Perhaps my attitude greatly provoked him; he scowled and furiously swept the breakfast off the table in front of me.

His eyes blazed uncontrollably with anger as he forcefully grabbed my wrist, making me face him.

"Ashley, I've apologized already. What more do you want? I'm warning you! Don't push it too far."

I broke free from his grip with an impatient expression, kicked the ceramic pieces out of my way, and turned to leave.

To be honest, I really felt disgust for Chris.

Just like the unmistakable scent of Chloe's perfume that clings to him when he gets close.

We were adults; he should know when to stop.

Three months ago, when he came home from a function, I found a lipstick mark on his collar that wasn't mine.

The sweet taste of lip gloss was popular among young girls.

At that moment, I realized the cracks were beginning to form in what I thought was a solid relationship, which only worsened over time.

But I didn't just leave when I discovered it.

Because I couldn't detach myself like Chris, nor could I erase years of emotions in an instant.

I couldn't leave him when I loved him the most; otherwise, I'd surely regret it on some later night, sinking into a deep self-loathing.

Chris had just made a mistake that any man might make.

So, before leaving him, I needed to exhaust all my feelings completely.

This process would take time, but leaving him was a decision I made that night.

.....

Half an hour later, Chris came over with a new breakfast.

Facing the bright sunlight, I was contemplating a painting for a competition.

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders from behind and held the breakfast up to me.

"Ashley, I'm sorry, it was my fault earlier. I made you a new breakfast, try it."

I pushed his wrist away with my paintbrush, breakfast included.

It was spaghetti with garlic and olive oil. Chloe once posted it on social media. [The love of my life made my favorite spaghetti; it's more than twice the happiness.]

Her favorite was spaghetti with garlic and olive oil, and I detested the overwhelming smell of garlic.

Chris had never used to cook with garlic; now, it seemed he had been completely forgotten.

Even though I was clearly not giving him a warm reception, he didn't seem upset and just set the breakfast aside.

He nodded and kissed my cheek.

"Not to your taste? What would you like? I'll make something else."

"No need."

I turned and stood up, pushing him away with the end of my paintbrush.

"Chris, stop deluding yourself. You know what I mean."

He looked up at me, the annoyance in his eyes intensifying.

"Are you serious? What about Billy? You could leave it..."

The tension in my head finally snapped.

I moved closer, my eyes bloodshot with hatred, almost as if I could tear him apart, uncontrollably crying and trembling.

"Chris, shut up, Billy... it's dead!"

Three nights ago, I was walking Billy in the park with Chris when Chloe suddenly called.

She said someone seemed to be following her on her way home and asked Chris for help.

The news had been filled with reports of women being followed and harassed by men in black as they walked home alone after work.

Chris panicked and rushed to help her, but I pleaded with him to take me home first since I had a foot injury.

It was only a hundred meters away, but he didn't take me.

Later, all I can remember was being dragged into the bushes like driftwood and pinned down in the mud.

The man pressed his knee hard against my thigh, and I bit down on the palm of his hand, crying and begging him to let me go.

I couldn't see his face; only his eyes were visible.

When he looked at me, his eyes carried a cruel malice from hell.

.....

When the usually timid Billy rushed to my rescue, the man pulled a gleaming silver knife from his coat.

I knew I couldn't waste the precious moments Billy had bought for me with his life; I ran as fast as I could.

By the time I managed to find help and returned, the man was in a frenzy, stabbing Billy repeatedly.

The police arrived just in time to subdue him.

Billy clung to his pant leg until the end, and I knelt on the ground, crying until I almost fainted.

After leaving the police station, I accidentally saw Chloe's new post on social media.

[The one who loves you will come to your side, even if they know you've lied to them.]

My heart turned cold in that instant.

Chris didn't question why I hadn't told him.

That night, the dozens of missed calls on his phone silently spoke volumes.

His expression was awkward as he spoke.

"It should be gone; Billy was old, and this way, it finds some relief early."

I never knew such cold words could come from his warm mouth.

I held my paintbrush, and my fingers trembled uncontrollably. I fought the urge to slap him.

"Chris, I had misjudged you."

After two years of friendship and three years of love, despite countless disagreements and arguments, I had always given in because I loved him.

I moved past him and walked away, deciding not to demean myself any longer.

Chris sat in the chair I had just vacated, toying with my paintbrush, convinced I would come back.

Half an hour passed...

One hour passed...

I did not appear.

Finally, in a panic, he searched from room to room, but in the vast house, my figure was nowhere to be found.

By the time he uttered those words, there was already no turning back for us.

He forgot that from the moment we met to the time we fell in love. It was all because of Billy.

Chris and I were each other's first love.

Nobody would have guessed that a little princess raised in an ivory tower would end up with a streetwise orphan.

The first time I met Chris, it was a windy day; he and Billy were squatting in an alley, sharing an eight-dollar meal box.

He even gave Billy the last two ribs, making me wonder how someone could be so kind.

But Chris, with a puzzled look, stared at me for a long while before coldly saying,

"Is this your dog? It stole my lunch. The meal cost eight dollars, and it ate half. The meat was licked; I can't eat it now. Six dollars will do."

That day, blinded by the wind, this princess, who knew nothing of hardships, began to notice Chris.

He was doing hard labor at a construction site, dripping with sweat. I brought him chilled watermelon and a big bucket of coffee, only to see him give it all to his coworkers.

On his birthday, I spent a whole day baking him a cake, which he shared with the stray cats and dogs nearby.

When he fell ill and collapsed at home, I paid for his hospitalization. After he was discharged, he insisted on repaying me with the savings he had painstakingly accumulated.

.....

I chased him for two whole years, during which the phrase he said to me the most was,

"Ashley, give it up! We're not from the same world, and we're never meant to be together."

Everyone urged me to give up, calling me lovesick.

But later, when my family went bankrupt, my parents died in a car accident, and I was driven out of the house by my predatory relatives.

It was he who sheltered me under the pounding rain.

I sat down in the pouring rain, watching Billy and Chris rush towards me, a moment that felt like Snow White finally being reunited with her prince.

He took me back to his place. It was the first time he ever took the initiative to bring me home.

After a hot shower, I sat on the fold-out bed, sipping the warm ginger tea he had made himself.

He stood in front of me, drying my damp hair with a towel. Neither of us spoke.

It wasn't until my cup of ginger tea was nearly empty that I looked up at him with tear-reddened eyes, a hot tear dropping into the tea.

Choking up, I said, "Chris, I won't bother you anymore."

He paused, his handsome eyes staring at me unblinkingly, and after a long sigh, he admitted, "I've always been reluctant to admit it... but it's too late, Ashley."

He slowly knelt, burying his head in my lap and wrapping his arms around my waist.

Speaking softly, he reassured, "Ashley, don't be afraid, wherever I am will be your home."

Once, he promised me a home, but now, he was the same one threatening to destroy it.