Kate hadn't invited me out for ages.

So when I received her invitation, I was genuinely pleased.

The restaurant was a members-only establishment. I brought the bottle of wine she loved, the one we had stored together long ago.

I had kept a bottle from her birth year, and she had one from mine. I had a sense that if we didn't use it now, we'd never have the chance to share it again.

But as soon as I entered the private room, I froze.

Kate was seated next to Vincent.

She greeted me warmly and pulled me to sit down, but I couldn't muster a smile.

Vincent, ever the polite host, poured me a drink, but I felt like I might be sick.

Kate exchanged a look with Vincent, their shared smile making me feel like an outsider, as if I should be hiding under the table.

Then, just like in old times, she used her sweet voice to coax me.

Kate said, her tone sugary and smooth, "We talked it over. The person in the photo looks a lot like you. How about we clarify that it's actually you?"

She spoke softly and sweetly, but all I heard was "we."

I thought, "Kate, there was a time when 'we' meant you and me.

I want to ask her, you're so afraid Vincent won't make it at the Moore Group, but do you worry about your loyal fans turning on me?"

I suddenly found myself smiling.

I saw the shock on her face, and a hidden satisfaction rose in me, though it was overshadowed by a deep, painful sting.

I forced myself to remain calm. "Sure, but I have one condition. I'm resigning."

I watched Kate's face go blank for a moment before she snapped, "No! I won't agree!"

Her sudden anger made me feel, for a brief second, like she still cared about me.

But the hand Vincent had resting on her shoulder brought me back to reality.

I stood up, looking at Kate steadily. "Ms. Winslet, I wish you all the best in your future career."

I turned and walked out, my chest and stomach twisting in pain, making it hard to breathe.

I thought, "Is it really this painful to let go of ten years of your life?"

As I walked out the door, Kate abruptly stood up but was quickly restrained by Vincent.

"What are you doing?" Kate snapped, shaking off Vincent's hand.

Vincent smirked, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light. "Are you so impatient that you're willing to risk losing Director Dent's movie?"

Kate hesitated, standing up and then sitting back down, nervously tapping her foot.

Vincent chuckled, toying with Kate's hair. "That's more like it. He's just an agent, after all."

Meanwhile, I stood at the restaurant entrance, clutching the bottle of wine, and waited for half an hour. No one came out to pursue me.

In the end, I felt pathetic even to myself.

With a self-deprecating laugh, I tossed the bottle of wine from her birth year into the trash can.

I had been hiding out at home for a month.

The only thing I used to do was scroll through Twitter and news feeds, searching for any dirt on Kate. Now, though, I couldn't even bring myself to turn on my phone.

As soon as I powered it up, it was flooded with insults and slander.

Some people had even sent me wreaths and memorial photos.

The paparazzi had been parked outside for a month, hoping to catch this so-called agent in a scandalous affair with a superstar.

But they were disappointed. Kate hadn't shown up even once.

When Rebecca Moore came knocking, I was still lounging at home, doing nothing.

Rebecca, my sister, was a free spirit—wild and adventurous.

She looked at me with disdain. "I thought after leaving the Moore Group for ten years to chase your dreams, you'd be doing better. Didn't expect you'd be in such a mess."

I could only manage a wry smile. Ten years had been my own doing.

Rebecca's arrival also signaled the countdown to my return to the Moore family. But before that, there was one thing I wanted to do.

Perhaps it was the intense repression, but right now, what I craved most was a complete release.

I raised an eyebrow at Rebecca. "Do you still have that Beast of yours?"

Rebecca's interest was immediately piqued. "You're thinking of racing?"

She came over and patted my shoulder with a curious grin. "Did you know Vincent's racing this time too? I'll make sure you're signed up—no backing out now."

Rebecca joked that the Moore family had never produced a romantic fool, and having me was quite enough.

I thought I wasn't a romantic fool, just stubborn.

The Oray Mountain Motocross was an event Kate and I had planned together, with her as a special guest.

As I stood on the track, that familiar sense of freedom washed over me again.

I finally managed to suppress the confusion and fear gnawing at me. I couldn't help but smile, thinking, "If Dad knew I was too scared of online abuse to even turn on my phone, he'd probably laugh at me for life."

I turned on my phone, and a barrage of messages appeared. I skimmed through them quickly—mostly hateful rants from Kate's fans and some gloating from peers.

They all thought I'd hit rock bottom.

At the very end, there were 99 missed calls from Kate.

I thought, "Maybe she cares me after all."

I sent her a message: [I'm at Oray's track. Let's talk after the race.]

I admitted to myself that I still couldn't let go, but I wasn't sure if it was her I couldn't let go of or the ten years we spent together.

I prayed to the heavens—if I could win, maybe we could go back to how things were. I'd be willing to overlook all this pain.