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.

I said in a trembling voice, "You’re incredible, Julian."

He knew exactly how to stab me where it hurt.

Carrie tugged at his sleeve again and whispered, "Julian, let's go."

Julian stood his ground and looked at me fondly. "Serina, someone of your status shouldn't be coming to a place like this. I won't be inviting you to the wedding."

I gave a bitter laugh and tossed the paper bag into the bin. "Okay. I wish you both a blissful marriage."

As I walked out of the boxing gym, I told myself I would never set foot in this little town again.

I did see Julian one more time after that. It happened when my father was hospitalized following a heart attack.

I took a leave of absence from my studies and flew back home to help my mother and brother run the company.

After a business meal, I found myself clutching a tree outside the hotel as I retched until my vision blurred. My makeup was a mess, and my hair was plastered to my forehead with sweat. I was a complete disaster.

Just as I was wiping the tears from my face, a familiar voice called out, "Serina?"

I stood frozen and didn't turn around. That voice was all too familiar; a sound that had played on repeat throughout my youth. However, I felt utterly humiliated now.

He walked around to face me, dressed in a tailored suit—a far cry from the man on the motorcycle that I remembered.

As his gaze fell upon my disheveled face, his eyes narrowed. He instinctively reached out as if to steady me. "W-What happened to you?"

I pulled away from him and forced a smile. "What a coincidence."

His hand hung suspended in mid-air for a few seconds before he slowly withdrew it. "I'm here on business," he explained.

I asked in surprise, "Business? I thought you said you'd never leave your hometown."

He smiled, and his eyes sparkled. "I didn't have anything worth fighting for back then, but I do now. I want to see how far I can go."

The alcohol was making my head spin, and I couldn't find the words to respond.

He leaned in closer and said hoarsely, "Let me take you home. You're—"

"Julian!" Before he could finish, the sound of high heels echoed behind him. Carrie came running toward us, lifting the hem of her dress.

She clung to his arm and continued, "Mr. Lansley and the others are waiting for us."

I steadied myself and smirked. Then, I gestured to my secretary, who was waiting a short distance away.

"I won't disturb you guys." As I turned to leave, I heard Julian call my name. However, I didn't turn back.

As I walked into the hotel lobby, I pressed a hand against my chest. I felt calm. Emotions were a strange thing; the heart that used to thrash wildly for Julian had finally gone silent.

After that night, time seemed to fly by. My father eventually woke up, and I returned abroad to finish my degree.

Following graduation, I walked down the aisle with the man my family had chosen for me.

For ten years, I lived a good life.

If Julian hadn't stepped forward the moment I got off that plane, introducing himself as the head of our security detail, I didn't think he would have ever crossed my mind again for the rest of my life.

My friend called me just to gloat. She laughed obnoxiously and said, "Well, Ms. Brown. The world now knows you were once a total lovesick fool. How does it feel?"

I gritted my teeth and replied, "When did you leak that video?"

"Hey, don't blame me! You were in such a rush to leave school back then. The university wouldn't grant you a leave of absence, so when you asked for my help after landing, I just submitted that video to the administration as proof. I told them you were chasing after your lover."

I sighed and rubbed my temples. "You've ruined my life."

The line went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, she whispered, "I forgot that you're married now, and that your husband is terrifying. Crap! Is he going to complain to my brother? I have to go, Sera. I'll pray for you!"

I stared at my phone in stunned silence. My heart started racing as I paced the room.

The man I eventually married was the very same man I had run away from at 18. He was the eldest son of the Olson family, Cyrus Olson.

He was a man who lived up to his name. He was disciplined to the point of being pathological, deeply cunning, and also incredibly petty.

Whenever we argued, and he found himself outmatched, Cyrus would resort to reminding me that I had once abandoned our arranged marriage, making him the laughingstock in the city.

Now that this video had gone viral, I shuddered to think of the outrageous concessions I'd have to make just to pacify him.

This was all Julian's fault. He could have worked as security personnel anywhere, but why did he have to wind up as my bodyguard?

I said to Melinda, "Replace the security team."

She nodded, then looked at me with a troubled expression. "I just received Mr. Olson's schedule. He's returning tonight."

I asked in shock, "Isn't he supposed to be in Jonborough City for a meeting? Why is he back?"

After a brief silence, Melinda tried to comfort me. "M-Maybe it’s for something else?"

A chill ran down my spine. I threw on my coat, ready to bolt. "Book me a flight to Yarlow. I'm leaving now."

As I yanked open the bedroom door, I saw a familiar pair of eyes.

Julian was there, half-hidden in the hallway shadows. His eyes were glued to my room.

My sudden opening of the door had caught him off guard, and the raw emotion in his eyes was laid bare.

Julian had been this way since he saw me at the airport— brooding, conflicted, and caught in a dark mood I didn't understand.

When I first got off the plane, I felt miserable because of the jet lag. Yet, the man with me was nagging me about my diet and having regular meals like a broken record.

Losing my patience, I grabbed his face and squished his mouth shut with my hands.

Just then, I spotted Julian among the people waiting for us. Standing there in a crisp black suit, he looked more mature than the man I once knew.

When our eyes met, he lost his composure, and the radio slipped from his hand.

Julian stared at me, but I quickly averted my gaze as if he were a stranger.

Later, at the terminal entrance, Cyrus kissed me deeply before leaving for his connecting flight to Jonborough City. As he kissed me, his hand was firm against the back of my head. Suddenly, a loud thud sounded in the distance.

After I got in the car, I saw Julian through the window. His palm was torn open. Blood was seeping through his fingers and dripping onto the pavement. Yet, he just watched my car with a hollow expression.

I looked away and remarked to Melinda, "That seems unprofessional."

She tapped on her tablet while replying, "This firm is the top security agency in Skylar City. That guy who just tripped on the flat ground is one of the founders. But you're right that it was unprofessional. I'll arrange a replacement."

I thought it over and shook my head. "Never mind. It's only for 2 weeks."

Besides, Julian and I hadn't met for a decade; we probably wouldn't have anything to say to each other anymore.

But netizens were a different breed of chaos.

I met a friend for dinner, and it happened to be raining when we left the restaurant.

Julian held an umbrella for me and said professionally, "Ms. Brown, let me get you to your car."

That 100-foot walk was all it took for someone to snap a photo.

The next day, "Bodyguard Shielding an Heiress in Rainy Skylar City" was the hottest trending video online.

I thought it would blow over soon, but then that old, cringey video resurfaced.

Julian seemed oblivious to the drama; he probably hadn't seen the news yet since he was on duty.

He walked up to me and asked, "Ms. Brown, are you heading out? I'll have the car ready."

I decided to maintain my distance. "No need. I want you and your men out of here immediately. I'll pay for the breach of contract."

Julian paused. His hand was still on his earpiece. Then, he raised his head and gazed at me.

"Is this about the online news?"

I frowned and stayed silent. Julian chuckled slightly and continued, "Are you really bothered by what they're saying?"

I stared at him.

Julian locked eyes with me, and his gaze became uncharacteristically sharp. "The internet is full of rumors. As long as our intentions are pure, then—"

I interrupted, "I'm the client. You're crossing the line."