"Sorry, Ms. Bennett, I can't make it to the company dinner. I'm meeting my boyfriend's parents that night."

"A gift? Please hold it for me, and thank Mr. Harrison for me, would you?"

After hanging up, I sat down, shivering from the cold.

Outside, the breeze teased the goose-yellow forsythia.

It reminded me of the scene near the playground at Liberty High back then.

Those lonely nights, Lucas Harrison would kiss me passionately under the blossoms, over and over.

Whenever I was frightened and tearful, he'd soothe me endlessly, "Emma, we'll marry someday. Don't worry, I've got you."

I, the gullible Emma Bennett, hung on Lucas's every word.

Liberty High's playground, the empty classrooms, Lucas's posh downtown apartment— they all were imprinted with our youthful zeal.

In retrospect, they all testified to my youthful gullibility.

Lucas stepped out of the stretch Lincoln, welcomed by the VP and senior executives at the hotel entrance.

Silence enveloped the ballroom.

It was the corporate gala welcoming the future owner.

Every department member was in attendance.

Lucas's assistant distributed gifts individually.

"Emma couldn't be here tonight, hold onto hers for now, please?"

When Emma's name was announced, the manager promptly approached.

Lucas narrowed his eyes subtly, maintaining a poker face.

Emma Bennett.

Her soft, delicate features somehow flashed before him.

Her lashes long, her quick glances away whenever he caught her eye—it intrigued him.

That was how Emma had trapped him in her allure.

She fiddled his heart but kept him from going down there with tears and sobs.

He had to say such words that even were repulsive to himself to get into her pants.

Eight years later, those memories still made Lucas smirk.

"Manager, what is Emma's highlight tonight?"

A coworker asked, intrigued.

"She's meeting her boyfriend's parents for the first time."

"Is Emma getting married?"

"Probably this year. Emma's not getting younger; it's high time she settled down."

With a wine-induced headache, Lucas rode home.

Leaning back, eyes closed, he chuckled recalling Emma's naive reaction.

The first time he kissed her, she was terrified, crying out, "Lucas, this isn't right, we're too young for puppy love..."

Puppy love? He had laughed inwardly.

He hadn't planned on a serious romance.

He merely wanted her, to experience her soft, fair skin.

"Don't be scared, Emma. I'm here, I won't let you down."

"Just one kiss, just this once."

She spoke and obediently closed her eyes.

Back then, she still had that hint of baby fat, her curves not yet defined.

Pursuing an ordinary girl like that had been sheer madness, even for Lucas.

The driver opened the car door, and Lucas stumbled out.

His lady companion called his name playfully and rushed over, enveloping him in a warm embrace.

Lucas frowned and gently pushed her away, her perfume lingering in the air.

She pouted, her eyes welling up, "Lucas, I've waited so long for you."

Lucas reached out and gently pinched her chin.

He squeezed tighter, her face contorted in pain as she let out a sharp cry, tears streaming.

Lucas let go, stepped back, and sized her up again, his gaze turning frosty.

It was clear—she looked nothing like Emma when crying.

He made his way toward the hotel, his companion limping after him, gritting her teeth.

"Leave," Lucas murmured, his voice a cold whisper.

Petrified, the woman clammed up and froze, not daring to step closer.

I had just met my boyfriend, Michael Andrews's parents.

They were the sweetest couple and really clicked with my family and career.

Mrs. Andrews gifted me a bracelet.

They planned to visit my home next month.

I was tying the knot.

Michael dropped me off, wrapping me in his usual embrace, planting a kiss on my cheek.

For the first time, I tiptoed and reciprocated.

Michael looked taken aback but quickly pulled me in for a deeper kiss.

"Emma..." Michael murmured, hugging me even tighter.

"You've got work tomorrow. It's getting late. Better head home."

He reluctantly released my hand， "Catch you tomorrow."

"Sure."

I watched him drive off, a gleam of joy in my eyes.

My smile stiffened as I turned and headed upstairs.

Suddenly, I was blinded by harsh headlights.

Instinctively, I threw up my hand to block the glare.

But then the car door swung open, and there was Lucas.

Despite the eight years, I recognized him instantly.

In that instant, a chill ran through me.

I felt choked, unable to breathe, as if a hand were wrapped around my throat.

My eyes ached, swollen with unshed tears.

I was rooted to the spot for two solid minutes before snapping back to reality.

"Emma."

As I walked past, I avoided looking at him.

But Lucas just leaned casually against the car, calling out as if no time had passed.

"I'm back."

He extended his hand, his demeanor easy, smile barely there.

Like he'd only been gone a couple of days, not years.

I eyed his clean, long, and ringless fingers.

Maybe he took them off for this.

But why should I care?

Slowly, I looked up, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze, "Was there something you wanted?"

"Emma, who was that guy just now?"

"My boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?"

Lucas cracked a smile, stepping in to gently cup my chin.

"And what does that make me, Emma?"

"Lucas, cut the crap."

I coolly brushed his hand aside, "I'm heading home."

Lucas chuckled, eyeing me like I was easy prey.

Nearly a decade ago, a few sweet words from Lucas were all it took to sweep me off my feet.

Now, he acted like he owned the world, manipulating my fate as if it was nothing.

"I'll walk you home then."

He closed the distance, slipping his arm around me, and rested his chin on my shoulder, "Is Emma the Sweetie upset?"

It felt just like those high school days.

Lucas loved to hold me like this, sweet-talking me into listening.

He was a big man on campus, always the center of attention.

Plenty of pretty girls threw themselves at him.

He'd politely turn them down, but shaking them off was another story.

Lucas treated every girl with a gentleman's charm.

At school, though, we were like ships passing in the night—barely a word exchanged.

In private, when we dated, I'd often give him the cold shoulder, stewing in silence.

But I'm a soft touch. A few pet names and sweet nothings from him, and I'd melt, forgiving him every time.

Then he'd pile on the demands, and they were always a tall order.

Our dates? Mostly just hookups, with little else on the agenda.

Eventually, I snapped out of it.

Back then, I was just a convenient outlet for the fiery, young Lucas to blow off steam.

A compliant tool, easy to fool. Lucas didn't realize how much that thrilled him.

His fingers crept around my waist, tightening bit by bit.

"Emma, I'm back, aren't I?"

He whispered in my ear, "But what's this I hear? You've been seeing another guy, letting him kiss you, talking marriage?"

I chuckled and forcefully loosened his grip.

"Lucas."

I spun around, my gaze cold and detached, "It's been eight years."

The night was pitch-black, but his features were strikingly clear and handsome.

I averted my eyes, "Don't come around here anymore. I'm about to get married. Wouldn't be good if my boyfriend got wind of this."

Lucas stayed silent but lifted his hand.

I watched him rip open his shirt, revealing a nasty scar over his heart, like a close call with a bullet.

He grabbed my hand, his face blank, and pressed it to the scar.

"Emma, tell me you don't love me anymore with your hand on my heart."

I brushed against the coarse scar and instinctively pulled back.

Lucas rolled up his sleeves once more.

The scars on his wrists were a shocking sight.

"Emma, you've been on my mind every single day for the past eight years."

"I nearly died trying to make it back to you."

Speaking, he offered a wry smile, then rolled his sleeves back down.

"Just say you don't love Lucas anymore, and I'll disappear forever, never to haunt you again."

"Couldn't you have sent a letter, made a call, or shot a text if you couldn't bring youself back?"

My voice trembled, and tears were already streaming down my face.

"I sent you a letter."

Lucas looked me straight in the eye, "But Emma, you never got back to me."

"Impossible. I didn't get anything."

Lucas frowned, then sneered, "Right, that letter must've been intercepted."

"Your parents?"

"Yeah, they've been dead set on marrying me off to some high-society gal, went to great lengths to cut me off."

"And those scars?"

"Got them trying to fight my way back to you, playing a dangerous game with my life as the stake."

Lucas mocked himself, his eyes tinted red, "Sounds pretty juvenile and ridiculous, huh?"

"Have you seriously thought about coming back for me, Lucas?"

"Over and over."

Suddenly, I covered my face, dropped to my knees, and cried out loud.

Emma, burdened and alone for so long, feeling like she might finally let go.

"Don't cry, I'm right here now, Emma."