At our office party, my boyfriend and his first love both lost in games.

A new colleague had a rapid-fire Q&A with them.

"What is Willow's favorite food?"

"Sweet and sour ribs."

"What color inner wear does Willow like best?"

"Black."

"What's her favorite flavor?"

Quentin Zander was stunned for a moment, then answered confidently, "Mint."

The crowd instantly fell into silence.

Everyone turned their eyes to me.

I put down my glass, smiled, and applauded. "You two know each other so well. Why don't you get married?"

As soon as I said this, the atmosphere in the box suddenly turned weird.

Someone pulled the gossipy new colleague to sit down next to him.

But that lady was still muttering, "What's wrong with you guys? Willow is Mr. Zander's girlfriend. I saw Mr. Zander help Willow with her bra the other day at the company..."

She wasn't loud, but the air was too quiet.

So, everyone heard her muttering clearly.

A trace of panic flashed across Quentin's face.

He turned and glared at our new colleague.

The latter immediately shrank her neck, not daring to speak anymore.

It was Willow Jackson who took the lead in speaking again.

She sat next to Quentin, moving her hips shyly. "I'm surprised you remember that."

Quentin dodged her calmly and said, "Willow just came back from abroad and has no acquaintances in the company. Her bra strap suddenly broke at the company, and no one was there to help."

Seeing him so hypocritical, I suddenly felt relieved.

We are all adults. We know men should have some boundaries around women.

Not to mention, it's about something as private as a woman's bra.

As expected, his explanation made everyone's expressions very subtle.

Willow quickly smiled and spoke out for him, "I just happened to run into Quentin that day. We grew up together, and I only regard him as a brother. Jane, please don't be mad."

Speechless, I just shrugged.

"I understand. You regarded him as your brother when you were young. Then, he would become your man after you grew up."

"But I'm not mad. So don't get me involved."

"If necessary, I can even book a room with a king-size room for you."

I said, sounding sincere.

But Willow stopped smiling, and tears began to fall from her eyes.

"Jane, I know you hate me, but there's no need to say that in front of so many people..."

Quentin wiped her tears, feeling bad for her.

He was sitting on the sofa opposite, and he suddenly became angry.

Throwing a wine glass in my direction, he said coldly, "Jane Luke, are you nuts?"

"It's just a game. Why are you being so mean?"

The wine glass was smashed on the table, and the flying fragments cut my face, leaving a bloody mark.

The colleague next to me exclaimed immediately and took a tissue to help me stop the bleeding.

Quentin frowned and moved forward.

But in the end, he stopped where he was, folded his arms, and stared at me warily.

Maybe he was afraid that I might make a scene in front of others.

He knew that I used to hate it the most when Quentin favored Willow.

I would argue with him and ask him whose boyfriend he really was when he drove Willow home and left me soaked in the rain.

I would call him over and over, begging him to come back and take me to a doctor when he left me with a high fever and went to look after Willow.

I would scold Willow for being a mistress when I saw the lipstick marks on his body.

At that time, whenever it was about Willow,

I would cry and make a fuss.

But in the face of all my emotions, he would always say, "Jane, people with a dirty heart see everything as dirty."

Then, he would give me a cold shoulder.

I, on the other hand, would reflect deeply on myself and kneel to apologize to them.

Only then would Quentin reluctantly forgive me.

I went against my conscience just to keep Quentin beside me.

But how can anyone keep someone that doesn't really care about him?

The first time I met Quentin, he was standing on a podium in front of thousands of people, giving a speech as a representative of the freshmen.

He was tall and handsome, and I fell in love with him at first sight.

Then, I began my three years of pursuing him.

Until one day, he accepted my love letter and food.

He said to me, “Let's give it a try.”

"But Jane Logan, I'm not that into you."

I should have been upset.

But at that time, I was just happy that he finally reacted to me.

With deep love for him, I determined to be with him no matter what.

I swore that one day, I would make Quentin love me as much as I loved him.

But seven years had passed, and I began to feel tired of this relationship.

I began to understand something.

People who don't love you will never love you back, no matter how well you treat them.

People who love you will favor you for no reason, even if you do nothing.

But for Quentin, I was the unloved, and Willow was favored.

I smiled gratefully at the colleague who helped me.

My wound stopped bleeding.

But the wound seemed quite deep, and the burning pain made my nose sore.

Noticing my abnormality, Quentin sneered, "It's just a small cut. Why are you making a fuss here? Now, you will either apologize to Willow or get out of here. Don't embarrass yourself here."

I clenched my fist, my fingertips piercing into my palm.

I stared at him for a long time.

After calming down, I gave a faint smile and said, "It seems that I don't have to book the room with a king-size bed for you and Ms. Jackson."

"I'll get out of your hair now. Bye."

I turned and left.

Behind me, Willow's apologetic voice sounded, "Quentin, maybe you should chase her. Jane looks mad."

Quentin sneered disdainfully, "Don't worry about her. She is just crazy."

As soon as I got home, it started raining heavily.

Without turning on the lights, I fell asleep on the sofa without realizing it.

Perhaps Quentin felt strange that I didn't question him today.

He actually sent me an address at around eleven o'clock.

He said that I hadn't eaten anything that night and that the wound on my face needed to be treated.

So, he would take me to have something before going to the hospital and helping address my wound.

Looking at the storm outside the window, I hesitated.

But he called, saying he had arrived and was waiting for me.

After pondering for a moment, I picked up my coat and plunged into the rain.

Soon, I arrived at the door of the restaurant he had reserved.

Although I had an umbrella, my clothes were still wet and stuck to my body, my teeth chattering from the cold.

I called Quentin, but he said he had something urgent to do and asked me to order first. He would be there soon.

Knowing that he had drunk a lot at night, I ordered some soup and a few other side dishes.

After the dishes were served, I called him again, but no one answered.

Without waiting for him, I began to dig in.

After finishing my food, I checked my phone and saw Willow's post: [The luckiest thing in the world is to have you with me whenever I need you.]

She seemed to be in a hotel room with ambiguous lighting, and there was a man's back wrapped in a bath towel.

I smiled self-mockingly.

"So, Quentin is having a great time with Willow right now.

No wonder he forgot about me so completely."

After paying the bill,

I stood at the door of the empty restaurant. The lights behind me were also turned off one by one.

The gentle drizzle fell with the wind, wetting my face

The wind seemed to blow away the last trace of obsession in my heart, even clearing my mind.

I grasped my coat tightly and calmly sent a breakup text message to Quentin.

Quentin never responded.

He didn't return until the next day.

The shirt that I helped to iron before he left became wrinkled.

There were a few lipstick marks on the collar.

He looked weary.

While rubbing his temple with his hand, he saw me sitting on the sofa.

He strode over immediately and tried to rest his head on my lap, wanting me to rub his head for him.

The perfume on him made me sick.

I dodged him calmly.

His drooping shoulders stiffened. He stood up and looked at me with a displeased expression. "Willow, haven't you made enough trouble? I thought last night was enough for you to reflect on yourself."

I found him ridiculous.

He was the one who cheated on me.

But just because I love him,

he firmly believed that the person who would finally surrender would be me.

He never thought that I would be tired, too.

"I'm not making trouble. Did you read the text message?"

"Let's break up."

I looked at him calmly.

He instantly became furious. "You wanna pick up a fight again?"

"You're even threatening me with breaking up. Do you believe that yourself?"

I pursed my lips. For the past seven years, Quentin has been the one who has always wanted to break up with me. But I cried and begged him to stay.

It was normal that he couldn't adapt to the new situation for a while.

Thinking of Willow's post last night,

I couldn't help but look at the lipstick marks on his collar.

He followed my gaze, and his eyes suddenly became flustered.

Then, he was enraged again and yelled at me, "It was just an accident. Don't think too much about it."

"Well, I won't."

I thought I would be a bit sad to hear that.

Unexpectedly, I felt calm, which was not what I imagined.

My abnormal reaction

rendered him speechless, unable to continue to blame me.

After a long pause, he frowned and looked at me. "Aren't you jealous? Won't you ask me why I didn't come back last night and who I was with?"

He looked even more displeased.

Speechless, I wondered what his problem was.

He was annoyed when I was jealous and questioned him before.

Now, I am not jealous anymore, but he doesn't believe it.

"I'm serious. I'll move out in a few days when I find a new place. Then, you and Willow can live together."

I swore that I was telling the truth.

But Quentin grabbed my wrist, making me frown in pain.

He said confidently, even with a hint of laughter, "Jane, do you still claim that you are not jealous?"

"She just returned from abroad and was drunk again yesterday. I can't just ignore her."

"If it's because you got stood up last night, I can take you out for dinner tonight to make up for it, alright?!"

"Now, make me some carrot soup. My stomach is a little uncomfortable."

He looked like he was doing me a favor and was helpless.

For some reason, his attitude made me feel angry.

I wanted to break up with him, but he didn't take it seriously at all.

"No. I can have dinner myself."

"As for you, you are already an adult. You should be able to make carrot soup. Oh, you can also ask Willow to cook it for you."

"You actually want me to go find Willow?"

"I told you that there's nothing between me and her!"

I looked at the furious Quentin in silence. I used to think he was emotionally stable.

But surprisingly, he could also be excited one day.

I didn't sleep well last night and was woken up by him early in the morning.

So, I yawned and perfunctorily replied while checking my phone, "Okay, got it. I'm going to bed. Close the door when you go out."

After saying that, I turned around and went back to my room.

Just as I got into bed, I heard the door was slammed shut from the next room.

I knew he was furious.

He slammed the door so hard, probably hinting that I should take the lead in making peace with him.

But I just turned over and fell into a deep sleep.

It indeed felt better to see others suffer than to make yourself suffer.

No wonder Quentin liked to give me the cold shoulder.