After working five years as Ethan Moore's ghost architect, he once again handed off the position of the project lead to someone else.

As usual, he dangled the carrot in my face. “Think about the bigger picture, Arya. Just wait a little longer. Until the firm’s next round of funding, and we get listed on the stock market, I promise I’ll make you the lead architect of the next project…”

When I was twenty-one, I was a fool who willingly staked everything in an uncertain future with him. Now, I am twenty-eight. Years of waiting and endless revisions of blueprints had whittled away all the love and courage I once had.

I packed up my portfolio and gave up on my lifelong dream of becoming an architect in Manhattan. I gave up on him as well.

I’m not waiting anymore, Ethan.

At an Architecture Awards ceremony in New York, the ballroom of a luxury hotel located in Midtown Manhattan was filled to the brim with business elites. They fashioned themselves in all varieties of luxury name brands.

Ethan stood underneath the spotlight with a deep-set look in his eyes, eyes that easily mesmerized countless Ivy League girls. He surveyed the floor before crowning the design of Sophie Vanderbilt as the winner of the competition.

I gripped my champagne glass so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Soon, the crowd rose into a standing ovation.

This was my fifth year as a ghost architect. It was also the final year of the laborious contract I had signed with Moore Architects. The contract signed was “Terms of Promotion for Senior Partnership.”

My boyfriend, Ethan Moore, was the head juror of the competition. He had crowned the twenty-three-year-old Sophie Vanderbilt, the daughter of a real estate tycoon, with an impressive score of 92.8. Just like that, he propped her on the stage and practically shoved me off a cliff.

Sophie stepped off the stage in a regal haute couture gown designed by Valentino. Her Jimmy Choo high heels clicked against the tiles while she advanced straight towards me.

“Oh my god, Arya, I’m so sorry…” Her sparkling blue eyes shone innocently as she spoke, suggesting greater talent in acting than architecture.

“I never expected to win,” she lamented.

Then, Ethan approached us with a hand tucked in his suit pocket. He stated proudly, “Sophie, when has a winner ever lowered themselves to apologize?”

He paused briefly to sweep a look over me, but he did not let his gaze linger.

“Arya, she’s a newcomer. Let her have it. You know how important this is for the firms’ funding. There’s always next time for you.”

They stood as a pair over me.

Sophie smiled radiantly with Ethan’s arm hovering protectively behind her. Standing together, they looked like the picture-perfect power couple stamped on the cover of a magazine.

I stared intently into Ethan’s eyes, trying to see if there was any resemblance of guilt or aversion in his eyes. However, I could not find it.

He had truly forgotten what happened during the winter five years ago when he desperately needed money for his startup. At the time, my grandfather, who was my only relative back then, was diagnosed with a heart condition in California. The medical bills were exorbitant and piled up faster than I could blink. That was the lead-up to me desperately signing that six-year-long, exploitative contract with the firm.

If I managed to win an international award within six years, the firm would award me with five hundred thousand dollars and grant me a partnership to boot. Otherwise, I would have to resign and reimburse the firm for all the “investments” they had poured into me over the years.

With the contract, I managed to put together a miracle and secure both Ethan’s capital for a startup and money for my grandfather’s medical bills.

I had staked everything on this gamble. In the final year contract, it was a mere 0.1 point gap decided by Ethan, who shattered my hopes—92.8 points against 92.7 points.

I realize that reality was not a feel-good Hollywood story. Moore Architects would not give me another six years. My sixty-three-year-old grandfather was running out of time as well.

There wasn’t going to be a next time, Ethan.

With the camera pointed at us, I took a step back and pulled the most presentable smile I could muster.

“Congratulations, you two.” I paused briefly before finishing my sentence with a clear mark of sarcasm. “Your relationship as mentor and mentee is very inspiring and touching.”

Ethan appeared to be vaguely upset by my remark. There was a hint of mockery underneath his smile that did not look very pleasant.

He thought dismissively to himself that I was too young and far too impulsive. With my mismatched ambition and lack of patience, I wasn’t going to make it far in this city. I had only spent five years in the industry and was already expecting to ascend to the top! Did I think life was some sort of Hollywood movie?

To triumph, one needed to have true talent instead of relying on so-called nepotism. To name an example, sleeping with an executive to make it to the top wasn’t going to work. The business world was cutthroat; it was no Make-a-Wish Foundation. However, I should try again next time. If there was a next time, he would fairly crown me.

With that in mind, he tried to console me. “Arya, the celebration party is going to be held in the Rainbow Hall. You should come too.”

“No, thank you.” I declined politely, “I’m going home to get some rest.”

Ethan frowned. I was not the type to decline a chance at networking. It was the most important part of thriving in this industry. However, before he could spare another thought, Sophie had taken his arm.

Meanwhile, I hailed a ride. After burrowing in the backseat, I looked out the window and beheld the dazzling nightscape of Manhattan. There was something glacial about it.

Before I even got home, I could see the trending hashtags on social media, listing “Ethan Moore,” “Sophie Vanderbilt,” and “Architecture Power Couple.” Each hashtag was styled in bold red, suggesting that they were trending topics.

Ethan had an award-contending project that was three years in the making—a sustainable community development project set in a district in Brooklyn. He had very eagerly named Sophie as the lead architect of the project. If I were at the celebration party, I wager that my expression would’ve been so twisted that I would lose all social graces.

When the display on my phone darkened, I saw my reflection. I looked tired and pale. It did not seem like I was looking anywhere near pleasant as it is.

As soon as I closed the application, I received a text from Ethan.

“No need to wait for me. I’m going to be held up for a while.”

Instead of replying, I swiped the text away. A dim blue light was cast over my face while I began to reminisce about the process of how he breached into my world.

“That girl from Columbia University is a diamond in the rough. I was the one who trained her. Ignore those trending headlines. They’re artificially boosted anyway. I was only modifying her blueprint. We need to make headlines, Arya. This is business we’re talking about. When are you going to grow up?”

...

At first, it was “Who is she?”

Gradually, it became “Why her?”

Toward the end, nothing remained but silence.

When I read the long and elaborate messages about Sophie on the screen, I realized that it did not occur to him that it had been a long time since I texted him at all.

All that was left was a cruel line of text that said I was left on read.

The straw that broke the camel's back was an episode from three months ago. What it came down to was a matter of priority.

On that particular day, Sophie was cut by a marble slab somewhere in the affluent district of the Hamptons. At the same time, I was conducting a site survey at an abandoned factory in the Bronx and ended up hurting myself when I fell from a stairway. The injury she sustained was only a tiny cut, no longer than a centimeter in width, while I suffered a spinal injury. Even in the same city, our fates were a sharp contrast.

The extent of Ethan’s concern for me was limited to a short sentence, asking, “Are you okay?”

Meanwhile, he made a grand and chivalrous display of taking Sophie to the best hospital in the region in his Tesla. He was so worried for her that he even sought medical advice on social media with a post that read, “Urgent! What's the solution to preventing a potential scar?”

From the pictures, I could see Sophie seated in the passenger seat of his Tesla. Despite how frail she looked, she was still mesmerizing. Meanwhile, I lay all by myself in the emergency room surrounded by the smell of disinfectant.

I watched as Ethan exchanged quips and banter with his friends in the comments section while ignoring the texts I had sent him. The indifference he directed toward me hurt more than the spine injury itself.

After spending a sleepless night, I went to see him while still strapped with a heavy brace on my back. I found him in his office staring intently at a model of a Rhino, which Sophie had designed on the screen. His brows were furrowed with focus, as if that was a thousand times more important than my condition.

“Give me a second, Arya. There's a structural problem here.”

He didn’t even bother to turn around to face me.

I stood outside the glass door and watched as he fiddled with Sophie's design. In the span of two hours, it finally occurred to me that even a measly sketch was more important to him than I was.

There was a Young Architect Award certificate issued by the Institute of Architects, which he received last year, framed on the glass door.

At one point, his secretary Emma approached to inform me in a lowered voice. “Arya, Ethan is still going over the design with Sophie, and it might take at least two more hours…”

She examined my reaction briefly before continuing, “Why don't you come back later?”

I insistently shook my head and said, “I’ll wait for him.”

Emma seemed troubled by this.

“You might distract them if you stay here.”

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through me, which made my whole body collapse under its weight. Fortunately, Emma grabbed me just in time.

The sudden commotion caught Ethan's attention from the other side of the glass wall. He glanced over in my direction and seemed not very impressed with the scene he was witnessing.

“Please escort the unauthorized personnel.”

He spoke with clear conviction as if he was doing what was right and kicking out an unwanted homeless man from a dignified venue. Then, his gaze lingered on my twisted posture for a moment. His lips seemed to tremble slightly as if he wanted to ask if everything was fine.

“Ethan, how about the light projection…”

His attention was quickly redirected back to the screen when he heard Sophie’s faint and pleasant voice. The concern he directed at me vanished like a mirage. It seemed to last all but a split second before it dissipated like dust.

The message was clear enough. He wanted me to drop the act, be professional, and get out of here before I embarrass him. Once he was done, perhaps he would be generous enough to send me a copy of the meeting minutes he jotted down with Sophie as a way to “make up” for what happened today.

The air conditioning unit droned on dully and endlessly. The only thing separating us was a wall. He was the one with the power over the temperature, while I was left to shiver from the mixture of the lingering heat of Manhattan in July and the air conditioning.

I pulled the coat tighter around myself before turning and heading out through the elevator.

Five years ago, we graduated from Columbia University together and vowed that we would take the city by storm.

However, it looked like I was going to have to accept the bitter truth that the man who once walked by my side was gone.