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!"