A gentle breeze swept over my head, and I stole a glance to the side, only to meet a pair of eyes filled with playful sparkles.

I quickly turned my head away and awkwardly asked, "Why are you standing out here with me?"

Caelan let out a low, teasing laugh. "If I didn't come out, what would that little dummy do if she started crying alone?"

His voice was captivating, and my face must have turned as red as a sunset in the sky.

"I’m not going to cry," I huffed, trying to defend myself.

"I'm the little dummy, and you're the big dummy," Caelan teased.

The boy was already nearing 180 cm in height.

He moved closer to me, the scent of mint surrounding him.

"Yeah, I’m the big dummy," he agreed.

And without warning, he ruffled my hair.

"Little dummy" was Caelan's special nickname for me.

When did it change from being a playful term to a sarcastic jab?

Whenever I faced a difficult problem, I’d instinctively turn to Caelan. It was likely a habit that had formed since we were children, a dependence buried deep within me.

That day, like any other, I asked Caelan to help me with an assignment my professor had given us.

In the past, whenever I struggled with something, he would gently pat my hair, teasing me for being such a fool for not understanding something so simple.

But no matter what, he’d always smile and patiently explain it over and over again.

I thought it would be the same this time. But under the harsh white light, he furrowed his brows and looked at me with an expression I didn’t recognize.

The familiar face now wore an unfamiliar look, and his words pierced deep.

"Yvaine, I know your professor for this course. He’s very professional and experienced. If you still can't solve these problems, I seriously question your attitude towards learning."

"Why is it that others are both more talented and more diligent than you?"

I didn’t take it seriously and stuck my tongue out at him.

Teasing, I stretched out my words. "Who’s lucky enough to have caught the eye of the Aethelgard University heartthrob?"

He turned away, tracing the lines of his pen on the desk, his lips curving into a smile. "Bryony."

The moment those words left his mouth, my heart plummeted to the lowest point, as if I were on a rollercoaster.

It was the first time I had ever heard a girl's name from Caelan’s lips.

In that instant, memories from the past flooded back—Caelan, back when he politely turned down love letters and never once looked at any other girl.

His gaze had always been focused on me.

We had grown up together, playing around, his small hand reaching for mine, innocent and carefree.

I had believed, naively, that he was just admiring her. But the next moment, it felt like I was burning inside.

The first time I met Bryony was when I went to the library to return a book.

"Yvaine," I heard a voice call from behind.

"Caelan?"

I turned with a smile, only to have my grin falter the moment I saw him.

Caelan’s arm was affectionately looped around a beautiful girl’s.

That must be Bryony!

They looked so perfect together.

Bryony spoke with warmth and confidence. "Hello, you must be Caelan’s childhood friend, Yvaine."

"It’s already noon. How about joining us for lunch?"

I wasn't about to be the third wheel, so I quickly tried to come up with a polite excuse.

"I have to meet with a senior this afternoon..."

But Caelan furrowed his brows and cut me off. "Let’s go."

His tone was firm, not leaving room for any refusal.

I looked at Caelan and Bryony, both wearing matching couple hoodies.

My throat went dry, and I forced out a, "Okay."

But inside, a chill ran from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

There was a time when he always respected my wishes.

But now, to please another girl, he was forcing me to do something I didn’t want to do.

At the restaurant, Caelan first took Bryony’s steak plate and carefully cut it into pieces in front of her.

His fair face looked soft and gentle under the dim light.

I watched him quietly, and suddenly, memories of an earlier time came rushing back.

The same Caelan, patient and gentle, explaining problems to me, coaxing me to take medicine.

Kind and patient, just like now.

My eyes felt gritty, and I quickly looked down, staring blankly at the black pepper steak in front of me.

I never liked steak.

“Yvaine, don’t you like steak? I’m sorry, I didn’t think about your tastes.” Bryony’s gaze was high and mighty, like a hostess speaking to a guest.

She pushed the mango platter toward me, “This is really delicious.”

It was beautifully arranged, the yellow fruit flesh especially tempting, but…

“Sorry, I... I can’t eat mangoes.”

Caelan pushed the cut steak back toward her, lowering his head and speaking gently, “Eat it while it’s hot, Bryony.”

Bryony eagerly accepted the plate, her face lighting up with happiness.

Caelan turned to me, his brow furrowed deeply, his expression changing quickly, like our high school chemistry teacher, as he urged, “Yvaine, why aren’t you eating?”

I froze, closing my eyes. “Caelan, I’m allergic to mangoes. If I eat them, I’ll die.”

At my words, Caelan straightened his lips, “Sorry…”

Sorry can’t undo the damage.

I felt a pang of sadness.

We’ve grown up together. How could you not know I’m allergic to mangoes? You’ve just focused on other girls, and forgotten everything about me.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were allergic to mangoes,” he stammered, but before he could finish, Bryony looked at me, her eyes misty with fake tears.

Caelan immediately pulled her into his arms, continuously comforting her, “It’s fine, it’s fine,” and then turned to glare at me. “Bryony didn’t mean it, Yvaine, don’t be so petty.”

A cold chill ran through me. I had only spoken one sentence.

But I couldn’t ignore the look of provocation from Bryony and the smug tilt of her lips.

Now I understood. She did it on purpose. She knew about my mango allergy.

I slumped my shoulders, feeling a sudden emptiness. Was this me being pathetic, setting myself up for this?

“I have something to do. I’ll leave first.” I said, and hurriedly walked out of the restaurant.

From far away, I could still hear Caelan’s voice, soothing Bryony in the most gentle way.

But to me, it was nothing but mocking.

After that, Caelan and I never spoke again.

Even when I saw them inseparable on campus, I would rush to avoid them.

What’s sweet to her is poison to me.

In fact, Caelan did try to reach out—Facebook messages, standing downstairs in the dorm building—but I didn’t reply, didn’t even look.

Because I was afraid of seeing the person I liked laughing and talking with another girl, the way he used to with me.

After a while, someone as proud as him lost his patience.

His figure finally disappeared from my life, at least, actively.

But the campus is so small. We would always cross paths again.

Our school was holding a grand celebration for its 80th anniversary. My roommate and I were representing our class in a group dance—a traditional dance.

For this, we dieted, practiced endlessly, and had finally perfected the routine before the event.

But just one hour before the performance, a major accident happened.

I stared at the shredded dance costume in front of me, my hands trembling uncontrollably, tears of panic welling up in my eyes.

My roommate was just as frantic beside me.

“What are we going to do? Yvaine, you’re in the center of the performance!”

“Who did this disgusting thing?”

I had learned to control my temper from Caelan, but this was the first time I’d faced something so vile. I couldn’t contain my emotions.

So, I went to the bathroom to calm down.

But then I overheard an unbelievable conversation.

“Miranda, you shouldn’t do this!”

It was Bryony’s ever-so-gentle voice.