It is the third year of my marriage when the video of my bodyguard, Julian Sutherland, holding an umbrella over me in a downpour goes viral.

Overnight, the internet becomes obsessed with the "Icy Protector and his Forbidden Heiress."

Netizens are relentless; they dig through the archives until they unearth a ten-year-old clip.

In the video, a girl was holding a pair of high-heeled shoes while sprinting through the Folander airport.

My friend teased, "No way, Ms. Serina Brown. Are you really flying back home to confess to that poor man? What could you possibly see in him?"

The camera shakes, capturing my youthful face. I was just a reckless 20-year-old.

"I love Julian. I love everything about him."

That night, after seeing the video, Julian loses his composure and bursts into my room.

"I didn't know you loved me back then. I thought… I thought… God, it was never supposed to end like this."

I pull my coat around me and stand rooted on the spot, remaining silent.

Suddenly, a mocking laugh echoes from behind me. Someone places their hand firmly on my waist and says, "Are you trying to reminisce about your love with my wife right in front of me? Do I look dead to you?"

I didn't realize the netizens were rooting for Julian and me until my assistant, Melinda Lane, handed me a tablet.

Her expression was strained as she explained, "A video of you from ten years ago has hit the trending charts as well."

The screen flickered, playing a grainy, low-resolution clip.

"I knew there was something there! What bodyguard looks at his employer like a starving dog eyeing a bone?"

"It's too bad Ms. Brown is married."

"It's an arranged marriage. I guess this is a case of two lovers forced apart due to their differences."

The video's popularity continued to skyrocket. In the comment section, netizens had already spun a tragic, soul-crushing saga about Julian and me.

The write-up was so vivid, detailing non-existent struggles and bouts of helpless longing. I almost started to believe it.

However, a few comments from people who actually seemed to know the truth tried to push back.

"What on earth is this? Julian and Ms. Brown were never a couple. Back then, she was the one chasing him like crazy, and he turned her down."

I clicked on that comment, and a flood of skeptical replies surged the screen.

"No way. Julian definitely loves her. The eyes don't lie, and in that video, he only had eyes for her."

I switched off the tablet and stopped reading about their delusions.

Ten years ago, I, too, believed that Julian loved me. That's why it was the first time I cast aside every ounce of my dignity and common sense and chased after him.

Yet, the cross-continental chase that had drained me of every bit of courage I possessed turned out to be nothing more than a one-woman show.

After that, I returned to Guskor to complete my education. Julian went on to fall in love and marry. We led different lives.

Then, recently, I returned to the country with my husband, Cyrus Olson. Our relatives organized a security detail for our arrival, and by some twist of fate, Julian was part of the team.

I used to stay awake at night, wondering if Julian ever loved me. Now, I didn't care about him anymore.

It made me feel a little sick to my stomach to see others scrutinizing me and commenting on my romantic history.

I first met Julian when I was 18. That was the year my parents arranged a marriage for me that I wanted no part of. So, I ran away from home to an obscure little city in the south.

However, luck was not on my side. I stepped out of the train and hailed an unlicensed cab.

Two miles into the trip, the car broke down along the road in a deserted town.

The driver climbed out, cursing under his breath as he inspected the engine. A moment later, he demanded an extra 500 bucks to cover the repair costs.

When I refused, he turned livid and cursed at me, raising a hand as if to strike.

I clutched my bag and backed away. It was the first time I felt so terrified.

That was when Julian appeared. He rolled up on a motorcycle, propping it up with one leg as he cast a cool, indifferent glance at the driver.

"This isn't right, sir," he said.

The driver spat on the ground and hissed, "Mind your own business!"

Julian tilted his chin toward me, signaling for me to come over. "The police station is a mile away. Should we invite them over to settle this?"

In the end, the driver cursed and sped off. Julian turned to me. The sun was casting a golden glow across his features.

"Heading into town? I'll give you a lift," Julian offered.

After my family dragged me back home, my mind would often drift back to that evening.

I had sat sideways on the back of Julian's motorcycle, clutching the jacket he'd handed me. I had watched the wind puff up his faded, white T-shirt.

The heart worked in strange ways when we were young. Someone like Julian had simply never existed in my world before. So, I fell for him effortlessly in this chance encounter.

Julian used to work as a sparring partner at a local boxing gym. Taking advantage of my age and the fact that I was a girl, I pestered him relentlessly to be my local guide. Julian frowned and said that that was inappropriate.

One day, I was at the gym's back exit, waiting for Julian to get off work. Suddenly, a heavy downpour left me soaking from head to toe.

He walked out with an umbrella and chuckled helplessly when he saw me standing there, pouting and utterly miserable.

Over the months that followed, Julian took me through countless alleys on that motorcycle.

He brought me to try the pudding he had been eating since he was a child. We sat on river embankments, watching the ships crawl slowly past.

Once, I insisted on hiking up an unmaintained trail. He grumbled the whole time about what a nuisance I was, yet he gripped my hand firmly as we made our way over the steep slopes. My ears were burning as our hands touched.

Those days and nights together made me naively believe that Julian and I were only a single confession away from forever.

I even planned it out. I would stand on my tiptoes and kiss his tightly pressed lips under a starlit night.

Suddenly, my family's bodyguards appeared before me. I was screaming and sobbing as they forced me into the car.

Behind them, Julian lay pinned to the pavement. His body was covered in wounds from the struggle.

Before they drove me away, he managed to break free and lunge toward the car. His bloodied palm slammed against the glass, and his stubborn eyes were locked onto mine.

I watched his lips move, and his message was unmistakable. "Wait for me."

I couldn't stop crying and nodding inside the car.

After I returned home, I waged a war with my parents. However, I later saw Julian with another woman.

A year passed before I saw him again. I had traveled for days. I was exhausted and disheveled. I took three different buses to reach the new boxing gym he had opened.

My eyes stung before I even saw him. I had so much to tell him. I wanted to ask why he never came for me and to finally confess the feelings I hadn't been able to say aloud back then.

When I pushed the door open, I saw Julian bent over. He was carefully lacing up a pair of boxing gloves for a woman with a ponytail.

The woman, Carrie Wright, giggled and pinched Julian's cheeks playfully. He didn't pull away; instead, he knocked her head affectionately.

"That girl has been living here for a month. Julian is so devoted to her. All the students here have started jokingly calling her 'Mrs. Sutherland,'" a cleaner told me.

I stood frozen. The speech I had rehearsed throughout my entire journey was caught in my throat.

Back when I was the one pestering Julian, his students used to tease us the exact same way.

My face used to flush as I stole glances at Julian. I nudged his shoulders and asked what he thought about that.

He looked at me in exasperation and muttered that the students were just attention-seeking. The more I indulged them, the worse they'd get.

Yet, for all his talk, the next time someone dared to call me "Mrs. Sutherland", he would drag them up into the ring for a sparring session.

Carrie noticed me and asked, "Can I help you, miss?"

Julian turned and saw me. The smile that was still lingering on his face froze as he said stiffly, "Ms. Brown."

It had been a year since we last met. Everything between us felt strange and awkward.

I wanted to ask why he had told me to wait when he never showed up. I wanted to know who Carrie was.

Finally, all that came out was, "Have your injuries recovered?"

Julian looked away and said coldly, "They recovered a long time ago."

The tension was palpable. The clock in the gym ticked steadily.

After a long pause, I asked gently, "I suddenly have a craving for that pudding from the alley."

Julian stiffened. "I'll get some. Wait here," he said instinctively.

A strong sense of familiarity coursed through me as I watched his retreating back. It was as though we were back in those autumn months when he used to indulge my every whim.

"Hey! How do you know Julian?" I didn't know when Carrie approached me, but she seemed annoyed at my lack of response.

Then, she jammed her elbow hard into my waist and hissed, "Hey! What's with that attitude? I'm talking to you!"

I winced in pain and shoved her forcefully.

Just then, the door swung open.

"I forgot my key—" Then, Julian raised his voice and continued, "What the hell are you doing?"

He dashed across the room, shielded Carrie behind his back, and looked at me defensively.

I stared at Julian for a long time.

He began to panic and muttered an apology. Then, he tried to approach me.

"I'm sorry, Serina."

I looked at him. My eyes were burning with tears that I refused to let fall.

"You're a liar, Julian," I hissed.

He told me to wait, but he never came for me. He allowed someone else to take my place without a second thought. I hated him.

I rejected Julian's apologies and blocked his number. On the flight back to Guskor, I went through my phone and deleted every single photo of him.

I threw myself into my studies and social life, desperately trying to crowd out any thought of Julian.

During my second year in Guskor, I was writing a thesis paper late at night when a wave of emotions washed over me.

I logged into my social media account, which I rarely used, and posted, "I have a craving for the rose cake from Emerald Lane."

It was nothing more than a bout of homesickness. I soon forgot I had even posted it.

Two weeks later, after the school's music concert event was over, I ran into a middle-aged man standing near the campus gates.

He let out a sigh of relief when he saw me and asked if I was Serina, the girl who wanted the rose cakes.

I nodded in confusion. The man smiled and handed me a bag.

"Julian asked me to bring these to you. He knew I was heading back to Guskor, so he came to find me.

"After buying the cakes, he asked me to hurry back and get them to you. You youngsters certainly have a way of making love complicated."

I didn't know when he started following my social media account.

My tears fell without warning the moment the rose cake melted in my mouth. I realized then that I had never truly forgotten him.

I booked the earliest flight back home and rushed to request a leave of absence from school.

My friend sent me to the airport. She was unimpressed with the way my eyes were suddenly shining with hope.

Before I boarded the plane, my friend looked at me in frustration. She wanted to record evidence of my lovesick stupidity.

"Serina, that wasn't what you said when you got off the plane. You swore you would never forgive him."

My hand trembled as I gripped my ticket. My face flushed, but I refused to change my mind.

Maybe I really was a lovesick fool. All Julian had to do was beckon, and I would throw everything aside to run back to him.

I was helpless against all the beautiful memories I had of him.

In Guskor, I had learned to drive the fastest sports cars, but I couldn't find anyone willing to ride a motorcycle across the city to buy a box of freshly baked cheesecake.

His silhouette in the twilight wind always haunted my dreams.

I couldn't forget about him. I couldn't let go. So, I chose to chase after him one last time.

"It's different this time," I said, echoing the same line used by every lovesick fool in countless love stories.

My friend was so mad that she was at a loss for words.

The plane began its descent, and my heart was pounding so hard it frightened me.

As I dragged my suitcase to look for Julian, I felt a mix of longing and dread.

When I pushed the door open, I saw him hugging Carrie. She was sobbing against his shoulder, and he was gently stroking her back while whispering words of comfort.

When Julian saw me, he was stunned. As he tried to pull away from Carrie and approach me, she gave his sleeve a soft, subtle tug. Just like that, he went still.

Then, he introduced her. "Serina, this is my girlfriend."

I stood there, dazed. I was still clutching the box of rose cakes—the ones he had asked someone to send to Guskor. "Why did you send me the rose cakes?"

Julian was silent for a few seconds. Then, he tightened his grip on Carrie's hand and said, "We're planning to get married. I figured you probably wouldn't be able to make it back for the wedding, so the rose cakes were our gift in advance."

I became nauseous immediately. Those cakes, which I had savored and mistaken for an act of love, instantly became the most revolting thing on earth. They made my stomach churn.