Claudette thought back; it had been over two months since Keiran had last reached for her.

Once, she had slipped into his embrace, draped in her favorite dress, hoping to reignite the spark. But he’d only brushed her off with a tired smile. “I’m exhausted; let’s just rest tonight.”

She’d sympathized, chalking it up to long hours, only to realize later that his energy had already been spent on someone else.

Claudette thought her heart had gone numb, but the slow, searing ache reminded her that it still hurt deeply.

She brushed the tears from her eyes, slipping his phone back where it belonged without waiting for him to see. She knew it was time to let go.

Her mind drifted to the first time she’d met Keiran in a dim alley near the university gates. He stood there, surrounded by a few others, his face a mask of calm, fearless, as though this was all too familiar to him.

Right before the fight could erupt, Claudette intervened, her tone cutting through the tension. “What are you all doing? The police are already on their way.” At that, they scattered, not daring to linger.

Keiran turned to go, but Claudette took his arm and led him to the convenience store. Gently, she tended to his wounds, the faint bruises lending an unexpected edge to his soft features as she placed each band-aid with care. They had no reason to connect before, but after that night, it seemed fate had other plans. She’d catch sight of him daily and soon learned he was a freshman, three years younger than her.

Keiran was always alone, solitary, and distant, which struck her as lonely. So, each morning, she’d offer him her breakfast, a small gesture of kindness. Soon enough, he grew to expect it, waiting by the lecture hall doors every morning, watching for Claudette’s familiar smile.

It wasn’t long before he took his turn, bringing breakfast and waiting patiently each day. Slowly, an unspoken connection grew between them, woven from shared silences and lingering glances.

This quiet routine stretched on for months until Claudette finished her project and prepared to leave campus. She could see that Keiran had grown attached to her, maybe because he didn’t have anyone else close.

Once she graduated, Claudette returned home, taking charge of her parents’ small company.

Whenever Keiran had the time, he would wait for her downstairs, and before long, her office became his quiet retreat. But everything changed with one single spark: the arrival of a bouquet of 99 roses from an admirer.

Keiran’s fury was unmistakable, and though Claudette suspected the cause, she hesitated to confront him, not wanting to shatter the delicate balance they had built.

That night, in the stillness of the office, the tension between them finally snapped. Keiran’s emotions spilled over, his voice low and intense as he pulled her close, confessing that in her arms, he found the warmth he had been craving, true warmth that made him feel, for the first time, that he truly had her.

Claudette had once believed Keiran’s words were a promise of love, but now, with the distance between them, it all seemed like the youthful, empty declarations of a boy.

He had found that same warmth elsewhere, leaving her behind as though she had never been needed.

The year Keiran graduated, Claudette threw herself into the world of networking, attending endless meetings and drinking until dawn to help him secure a position within Harris Corporation.

To her surprise, it took him only a year to rise to the top, and in the next two years, he had transformed the company into something far more powerful than she had ever imagined.

What Claudette had once seen as a "poor soul" now revealed itself as a predator, a wolf lurking quietly in the shadows.

Her eyes lingered on the photo in her hand as disbelief crept over her. If she hadn’t accidentally discovered Keiran’s second phone and seen a message from someone named “Beloved,” she might never have known the truth.

A bitter chuckle escaped her, the irony sharp. Seven years of her youth were given to Keiran, yet never once had he considered her his “beloved.”

With a sigh, she shook her head, pulling herself back from the edge of these painful thoughts.

She gathered every photograph they had shared, carefully placing them in a box. It was time to let go, everything that belonged to her had to be cleared out. She was leaving, and she wanted to do so without leaving a trace.

At the office, Claudette handed over her responsibilities, her voice steady as she gave instructions to transfer the funds to her designated account.

“President, are you really leaving us?”

Claudette replied, “Don’t worry. The contract’s clear: if you don’t make any mistakes and don’t leave of your own accord, you’ll be fine. You’ll keep your job.”

Claudette left everything behind, even the gifts Keiran had once given her. Her assistant looked at her, confused. She had always held onto those things as if they were treasures. “Just throw them out. People change. What’s the point of holding onto the past?”

The assistant gave a slight nod, understanding without further question, and said nothing more.

When Claudette finally arrived home, she found Keiran sitting there, smoking. The ashtray was heaping, an unspoken sign of how long he had been stewing in his own frustration. “Where were you? Why didn’t you answer my calls? Why didn’t you respond to my messages?”

Claudette lied, her voice slipping into a cool, practiced tone. “Sorry, I got caught up with things and missed your calls. Was there something urgent?”

Keiran sensed the shift in her demeanor, a subtle change that tugged at him, though he couldn’t pinpoint what was off. Claudette had never spoken to him with such a cold, distant edge before. “I was worried sick about you! Don’t just vanish like that again. You’re driving me insane.”

He moved to kiss her, but she instinctively pulled back. “Is it because I smell like smoke, Claude?”

In the past, whenever Keiran lit up, Claudette would always be quick to put out the cigarette, her voice laced with concern as she reminded him of its toll on his health.

But today, she only frowned, a fleeting, almost imperceptible gesture, and made no mention of his smoking. She didn’t mention the smoke at all, and the subtle distance in her demeanor unsettled him. “I’m sorry. I won’t smoke again. I was just... worried about you.”

Claudette’s lips curved into a faint, almost unreadable smile. “It’s fine. I was just lost in thought.”

“I’m going to take a shower."

That night, for the first time, Keiran didn’t reach for his second phone. Instead, he held Claudette tightly in his arms, his body trembling as if trying to find solace in her presence after the coldness she had shown him earlier.

If she hadn’t discovered his messages with another woman, she might have believed the warmth in his embrace, might have convinced herself that he truly loved her.

But deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he never did. Perhaps it had all been a fantasy, an illusion woven from her own hopes.

Keiran pressed her beneath him, his movements frantic, as though he needed to reclaim something, anything, from their bond. But Claudette pulled away, avoiding his touch, her voice soft but firm. “My period... I’m not feeling well.”

Keiran didn’t say a word, merely pulling her into his embrace, his hand resting lightly on her stomach. Claudette’s tears fell quietly, a river of sorrow she could no longer contain.

Once, he had been her constant caretaker, watching over her with gentle care during her cycle, his every thought consumed with ensuring she was comfortable. But now, his touch felt distant, his concern replaced with something colder, something she couldn’t quite name.

Keiran used to know Claudette’s cycle like the back of his hand, always reminding her before it began to avoid cold foods and drink hot water.

But tonight, when she dropped a casual hint, he didn’t seem to notice that her timing was off.

It was only a matter of time before the truth unraveled. Keiran’s secretary, Corinne, sent her a request on WhatsApp.

Claudette’s heart skipped as she accepted it, her curiosity tinged with dread as she tapped into Corinne’s moments feed, updated only seconds ago.

[It’s so annoying. I wanted something cold to drink, but he insists it’s my period and won’t let me have anything but hot water,] the post read, accompanied by a candid photo of Keiran carefully selecting menstrual products.

A sharp pang gripped Claudette’s heart; a sudden sting stole her breath. When she finally steadied herself, she realized her eyes were wet. It wasn’t that Keiran had forgotten her cycle; he had simply memorized someone else’s.

[Ms. Williams, don’t you think it’s inappropriate at your age to hold on to Keiran, guilt-tripping him into staying with you?]

[Guilt-tripping?] Claudette typed back, bewildered.

[Keiran told me that since you helped him in the past, he feels obligated to stay with you, even though he wants to move on.]

It felt like something shattered within her, a deep fracture in her heart, breaking something she hadn’t realized was so fragile.

Claudette let out a hollow laugh, tears streaming down her cheeks. So, in Keiran’s heart, their relationship had been nothing more than a sense of duty. In that instant, any lingering attachment dissolved.

She left Corinne’s messages unanswered, yet Corinne continued, proudly detailing the ways Keiran spoiled her. Claudette’s heart shifted from sorrow to tears, and finally, a strange calm settled over her. Everything Keiran once did for her, he now did for Corinne.

That evening, Keiran casually mentioned a business trip to the capital for a few days. Claudette simply nodded, not questioning him. While he was in the shower, she reached for his coat pocket, unable to resist glancing through their messages.

[You promised you’d spend tonight with me.]

[I told you I’d take you to Ice World, didn’t I? Just be patient, alright? I need to keep things quiet over here; otherwise, how am I supposed to slip away with my little temptress?]

In Keiran’s eyes, it seemed Claudette was nothing more than an inconvenience, a barrier between him and his desires.

[Then don’t touch her,] came the response.

[I haven’t touched her. I’m practically drained dry from you; I’ve got nothing left.]

Perhaps because she had already released her hold on him, the messages didn’t stir anything in Claudette. She calmly placed the phone back where she had found it.

As Keiran stepped out of the bathroom, his coat buzzed from across the room. His other phone, however, lay in plain sight beside Claudette on the nightstand. He shot her a sheepish glance. “That’s my work phone. I’ll handle it, and then I’m all yours, okay?”

“Take your time,” Claudette replied, her voice steady. “Work comes first.”

She stood just outside the study, her ear pressed against the door, listening to his soft murmurs as he spoke to the woman on the other end.

“Be good. Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When Keiran finally returned, Claudette couldn’t stop herself from asking one last question.

“Keiran, I want to go to the capital with you. I’ve always wanted to see the snow. For someone from the south, snow feels like an irresistible temptation.”