I've been drinking milk since young, so my body is far more mature compared to my peers.

When I'm 18 years old, my protective older sister, Yvonne Gibson, is worried that I might get my cherry stolen by others via trickery, so she specifically asks her best friend, Jasmine Joyner, to take care of me.

But during our first meeting, Jasmine's gaze never leaves my crotch.

After my graduation, I lead a double life. During daytime, Jasmine is my boss. At night, I'm her bed partner.

Throughout our four-year secret relationship, I'm slowly molded into the lover Jasmine likes the most.

Four years later, Jasmine's ex-fiance, Ethan Sawyer, has returned to the country. She quickly jumps out of bed and hurries to the airport in order to pick him up.

I endure my physical discomfort the best I can as I follow her to the airport.

An hour ago, Jasmine's soft body is entangled with mine. But now, she allows another man to embrace her right in front of my eyes.

"Marcel Gibson, you climbed into my bed and took advantage of my intoxication four years ago. You're being unreasonable right now, and it's really getting old."

The way Jasmine gazes at Ethan is very tender. The way she looks at me while mocking me is also awfully serious.

I also think that things between us are getting old as well, so I text Yvonne and tell her to accept the Roberts family's marriage proposal on my behalf.

Then, I look up at Jasmine with a smile.

"Okay. Goodbye, then."

My sister, Yvonne Gibson, called me back almost right away.

On the other end, she sounded relieved, even a little proud, that I had finally let go of the mysterious woman I had loved for years.

She had no idea that the person who had dragged me through every high and low of love was her very best friend, Jasmine Joyner.

After I hung up, I picked up the resignation letter I had prepared long ago and headed to HR. However, the process got stuck at the final step.

"Mr. Gibson, if you want to leave within a week, you'll need the CEO's signed approval."

Jasmine—again. Even in leaving, I couldn't get around her.

I tightened my grip on my phone and walked to the far end of an empty hallway before dialing a familiar number. The line rang for a long time.

Just when I thought no one would answer, the call connected. An unfamiliar male voice came through. "Hello? Are you looking for Jazz? She's in the shower…"

"Jazz" was in the shower. That simple statement felt like a poisonous injection stabbed into my chest.

Uncharacteristically, I replied calmly, "Never mind. Thanks."

I hung up before the man could say anything else. The screen went dark, reflecting my pale, drained face.

Less than two minutes later, my phone started vibrating again. I stared at the name "Jasmine" for a few seconds before sliding to answer.

"What do you need?" she asked coolly, as if I were just his subordinate.

And yet, just last night, she had been beneath me, moaning my name over and over.

I tightened my grip on the resignation letter until my knuckles turned white. "Ms. Joyner, there's a document that needs your signature before it can go through."

Jasmine hummed casually, then seemed to remember something.

"Oh, right. You should come back later and clear out your stuff. Ethan's moving in. The apartment in the west suburbs is empty. You can move there. I did promise Yvonne I'd look after you, after all."

Four years ago, Jasmine had dragged me into bed while she was drunk and bestowed on me the role of a bed partner, as if it were charity.

Four years later, under the guise of being a good friend, she offered me a place to stay. The way she handled everything so thoughtfully made it all feel ridiculous and unbearably hollow.

I chuckled. "That won't be necessary, Ms. Joyner. I'm an adult. I can fend for myself just fine."

Besides, once she signed the resignation letter and I finished handing over my work, I could finally put an end to these absurd four years. Not to mention, I was getting married.

…

I lay awake in the hotel until morning. Strangely, I felt more clear-headed than I ever had when waking up beside Jasmine.

I called a car and went back to the villa I had lived in for the past four years. The moment I pushed the door open, I almost thought I had the wrong place.

The room that used to be all black, white, and gray was now washed over in warm colors.

The entryway where I had begged Jasmine for a month just to hang up a single photo of us had been turned into a wall of her pictures with Ethan Sawyer.

"Ethan likes it this way."

Jasmine's voice came from behind me. When I looked at her, I caught a hint of frustration on her face. "He came by yesterday. He wasn't too happy seeing your stuff."

It wasn't until she led me to the storage room that I understood what she meant.

In the corner of the storage room, all my belongings had been piled up like trash, thrown together without a care.

The watch Jasmine had given me was crushed beyond recognition. Even the pair of mugs we had made together lay shattered.

She sighed. "It's not like they're worth much anyway. Just throw them out. If you need anything later, I'll replace them with something new."

All of a sudden, they were unworthy.

My gaze fell on a colorful glass jar in the mess. The lid was broken, exposing the paper cranes I had folded by hand back when I had a secret crush on her. Every single one held a piece of the love I never dared to express.

I picked up the cracked jar and, along with the scattered cranes and the ruined gifts, tossed everything into the trash behind me.

Jasmine's brows knitted tightly at once. I brushed it off with a smile. "You're right. If something isn't worth it, it should be discarded once it's dirty or broken anyway."

And I meant it for my foolish, ill-timed feelings for her, too.

I didn't look at how her face darkened. I lowered my head and pulled the resignation letter from my bag. "Ms. Joyner, this is my resig—"

Before I could finish, her phone rang. Ethan's voice came through clearly in the quiet storage room. "Jazz, it's raining outside. Come pick me up soon."

The emotion on Jasmine's face vanished instantly. She didn't even glance at the document in my hand and simply signed her name at the bottom.

"Get a cab yourself. And text me when you arrive."

By the time she drove off, the rain had turned into a downpour. The villa sat halfway up the hill, so there was no way to get a cab there.

I could only open my umbrella and descend the hill against the wind.

Suddenly, I stumbled. My foot slipped, and I hit the ground hard—a sharp, burning pain shot through my knees and elbows.

I didn't care about the injuries. I just held onto my bag, gripping it tightly. If the resignation letter got wet, I would have to go back to Jasmine again. I didn't want anything to do with her anymore.

Of all times, a familiar white car came driving toward me from a distance. When it passed, it didn't slow down at all. Dirty water splashed up, soaking me and making me look even more miserable.

Through the passenger-side window, I caught a glimpse of Ethan, dressed to perfection, and Jasmine beside him, smiling so gently.

I clenched my teeth, bracing myself against the cold ground as I slowly pushed myself up. My knees throbbed with sharp pain, but I still straightened my back and walked away.

Heading in the opposite direction of the car, I didn't look back once.

…

After submitting the resignation letter, all that was left was to wait three days for processing. On the last day, I was in the office handing over my work.

My phone lit up. Jasmine had texted, asking me to bring a cup of hot water.

I hadn't officially left yet, and work was still work. So, I poured a cup of hot water and knocked before entering Jasmine's office.

As expected, Ethan was there. He lay on the couch with his head resting on her lap, while she gently rubbed his stomach.

For the past four years, I had taken countless drinks for Jasmine at business dinners and ended up with a serious stomach problem.

When the pain got so bad that I curled up at my desk, unable to straighten my back, she would only toss me a box of painkillers and add, in a voice devoid of emotion, "Don't let it affect your work."

The most ridiculous part was… I used to feel moved by that.

I kept my eyes straight ahead as I walked past the two of them and set the cup on the desk. "Ms. Joyner, your water."

I was about to leave when Ethan suddenly stood up. "Wait… Are you Yvonne Gibson's brother?"

Before I could answer, his hand came down on my face. The slap rang in my ears, a sharp buzz penetrating my head as my cheek began to swell instantly.

Jasmine shot to her feet, shocked. "Ethan, what are you doing?"

His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice trembling with grievance. "That's the son of the Gibson family in Juton! He gave up a good life just to come work as your assistant, and I'm supposed to believe you that he isn't into you?"

The air stilled.

Jasmine's complicated gaze brushed over me for a moment, then she leaned back into Ethan's arms, as if nothing had changed. Her tone softened, laced with helpless indulgence.

"Even if there's anything like that, it's just one-sided," she said. "I only ever love you. Don't you know that?"

A trace of smugness crossed Ethan's face. He tightened his arms around Jasmine, spoiled and unrestrained. "Then, fire him! I don't want to see him again!"

She frowned ever so slightly, like she was hesitant for a moment. Noticing that, he grabbed the cup of hot water from the desk, only to scream and splash it toward me in the next instant.

"Shit, it's hot! Jazz, look!"

The sight of his reddened fingertips—as if he was the one who had been hurt—angered Jasmine. She glared at me, ignoring the skin on my exposed arm that had already been scalded.

"Marcel, you've been with me for four years, and yet you can't even handle something this simple!" she barked at me. "Are you doing this on purpose to target Ethan?"

Before I could say anything, Jasmine summoned her secretary, Annie Lawson.

"Marcel's made a serious work mistake, and I'm going to deduct his salary and bonus for this month. Next week at the staff meeting, issue a company-wide public reprimand!"

Annie glanced at my disheveled state, then spoke carefully. "But Ms. Joyner, Mr. Gibson's already resigned…"

…

Hearing Annie's words, Ethan, for some reason, cried out again, "Jazz, if you're going to defend him like this, I'll leave! I'm never coming back again!"

Jasmine panicked. She didn't even care what Annie had said and pulled Ethan into her arms, desperate. "Don't do that, Ethan!"

Her piercing gaze sliced through me. "Marcel, if this happens again, you'd better drag your sorry ass back to Juton! Even if Yvonne comes begging, it won't change anything!"

The pain in my burned arm had already soaked me in cold sweat, yet my voice remained steady. "Rest assured that this won't happen again."

Jasmine seemed slightly taken aback, like she hadn't expected such an answer. Without another word, she grabbed Ethan's hand. "Let's go. To the hospital."

Her eyes finally flicked over my scalded skin, and her frown deepened. "You're coming, too."

Worried about my burns getting infected, I followed them in silence.

In the back seat of the car, my phone vibrated with two of Jasmine's texts.

"I overreacted earlier. It's just that I've already lost Ethan once, and I'm not losing him again.

"If you're mad, I'll make it up to you."

I stared at the words, then at the front seat where she was fussing over Ethan, and found it all laughable. With a single tap, I blocked her number.

The next second, a text popped up. It was from my arranged marriage partner, Winona Roberts. We had actually met once before.

I took a deep breath.

The car stopped at the hospital emergency entrance. The moment the door opened, another car suddenly sped in from the side.

Almost reflexively, Jasmine pulled Ethan tightly into her arms to shield him. Meanwhile, I lost my balance and stumbled, falling straight into a flower bed.

When I pushed myself back up, I saw her rushing into the emergency hall with Ethan, her expression tense and focused on the minor scrape on the back of his hand.

"Sir, your arm is bleeding. You should get that dressed right away…"

A kind stranger nearby handed me a clean handkerchief. I pressed it to the wound, thanked him briefly, and, without hesitation, walked to the roadside to flag down a cab.

"To the airport, please."

The cab started moving, heading toward a place where Jasmine couldn't touch.

…

At the same time, after settling Ethan in, Jasmine suddenly remembered I was injured, too. She went to the nurse's station and asked for a burn ointment.

"Hi. Where's the other man who came with me? Marcel Gibson—which room is he in?"

The nurse checked the records and shook her head. "I'm sorry, miss. There's no patient registered under that name."

Jasmine froze. She clenched her fist around the burn ointment.

Her phone rang. It was Yvonne.

The moment she answered, Yvonne's furious voice exploded through the line. "What the hell, Jasmine? Is this how you take care of my brother? He's injured all over, and you didn't even notice!"

Jasmine frowned. Almost instinctively, she assumed I had gone to Yvonne to complain. Her tone sank, clearly displeased. "Is he with you right now? Put him on the phone."

"Oh, shut up!"

Yvonne glanced at me, still stuck at the airport, and added with irritation, "If you want to make up for it, Marcel's getting married in two days. You'd better show up!"