Carl's unfinished questioning was stifled by my indifferent reply.

Just as I hung up, the car pulled up to our place.

After I stepped out, my phone vibrated continuously with notifications. It was from Carl's company group chat, and when I clicked in, there were more than 99 unread messages.

At the very top was a photo Ivy had posted. In it, Carl was crouched on the ground, his face glistening with sweat as he repaired an electrical circuit for her.

"Mr. Erickson is worth billions, and he's the future alpha of the pack! How is he still this thoughtful?"

"With a boss like him, I'd dedicate my whole life to the company!"

"If he was my alpha, I'd gladly pledge my loyalty to the pack forever."

The comments that followed were filled with envy and teasing.

"I've never seen Mr. Erickson like that. Doesn't he have germophobia? Doesn't look like it to me."

"Oh my God, a man out of his suit is so hot! I want to marry someone like him too. Hands off, everyone!"

"Our future luna posted the photo. Stop dreaming and get to work. "

Once, when Carl couldn't even afford to hire a secretary, I was his right hand who managed everything for him. But ever since Ivy took over, his attention had shifted to her while I was gradually forgotten.

I should've left this group chat long ago.

I scrolled through the messages one last time, then cleared the chat history and exited the group.

Now that I'd decided to leave Carl, glimpsing a preview of their post-marriage life no longer felt so painful. Still, I couldn't help but recall the early days when Carl first started his company.

He used to flood the group chat daily with candid shots of me making coffee or jotting down schedules. Everyone in the company knew he was madly in love with me.

Back then, buoyed by love, even working without pay felt sweet. But as the company grew stronger and business boomed, Carl began to view me as inexperienced and incapable of handling larger projects.

Thus, he'd hired Ivy who was fresh out of college to take over all my responsibilities.

Carl had even banned the group chat from mentioning anything about me. Overtly and subtly, he showed favoritism toward his newly hired secretary.

Once, a colleague who used to be close to me was bold enough to comment that Ivy wasn't as competent as I had been. Consequently, Carl had docked her a year's bonus.

In the end, I'd secretly transferred her money to prevent her from impulsively quitting her job.

Over time, Carl had conveniently forgotten how I had stood by him from the ground up, leveraging my parents' connections to bring him countless business opportunities.

When I entered the house that felt unfamiliar despite ten years of living in it, I quietly began packing my belongings and other essentials.

Midway, my gaze fell on a thick photo album sitting on a corner of the bookshelf, its surface coated in a thin layer of dust. I gently picked it up and sat on the edge of the bed, flipping open the first page.

Inside were countless photos that documented all the rabbit-themed gifts Carl had sought out for me over the past ten years.

From plush toys and pendants to rabbit-themed postcards from around the world, to limited-edition handcrafted rabbit figurines, and even obscure paintings by little-known artists—all centered on rabbits.

Carl used to smile and say, "I'll collect everything rabbit-related from around the world so you can wake up every day surrounded by your favorite things."

Ten years ago, he had made a promise. Once he gifted me 9,999 rabbit-themed items, we would get married. He'd declared that he would bribe my heart with these gifts until I was willing to marry him.

The photo album was custom-made to hold exactly 9,999 photos. Yet as I flipped to the last page, a stark emptiness greeted me.

I stared at that blank space for a long time, a self-deprecating smile tugging at my lips.

So much effort, all for nothing.

I carried the photo album downstairs to an open area. Then, I pulled out a lighter from my pocket and ignited it.

The flame quickly spread along the album's edges. One by one, the photos succumbed to the heat, crumbling into blackened ashes before vanishing entirely.

Those gifts had witnessed the ten years of my youth, and at this moment, they were reduced to nothing.

Carl happened to see this as he returned.

His face drained of color, and his eyes widened in shock and disbelief. The next moment, he rushed over and shoved me aside in an attempt to salvage the album from the fire.

However, the flames were too intense. The moment he got close, the searing heat forced him back.

The fire licked at his hand, turning it red with pain. He hissed sharply and retreated. Left with no choice, he frantically tried to stomp out the flames with his foot.

But it was futile.

Carl could only stand there as he helplessly watched as the photos—the memories of ten years—were swallowed by the blaze.

"Are you insane?" He finally turned to me, his voice trembling with rage.

His eyes burned hotter than the fire as he roared, "How could you burn the album? It took me ten years to collect the gifts! It's all gone now. Do you have any idea what you just did?"

I clumsily got up from the ground, brushing off the thick layer of dust that had settled on my nightgown.

The fire illuminated my features with a warm glow, but my voice was as cold as ice. "Calm down. I opened it earlier and saw something crawling inside. It was probably some cockroaches, so I burned it."

Seeing my disheveled state, Carl seemed to realize he had overreacted.

He took a deep breath and softened his tone. "Are you okay? I'm sorry. I was just anxious. We've kept that album for ten years. Didn't we agree to show it to everyone after we got married?

"Why did you burn it all of a sudden? If there were cockroaches, you could've waited for me to return or sent me a message. I would've handled it."

The man standing before me was no longer the boy who had once vowed to protect me for life.

I couldn't even bear to look at him.

"You've been busy with work, and you're hardly home. It was just a small matter and not worth bothering you with. Besides, Carl, not a single thing in that album was meant for me. For ten years, you did manage to gather all sorts of rabbit-themed items from around the world. But, you forgot..."

I paused, then let out an indifferent yet resigned laugh. "You forgot what I actually like."

His eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

I met his gaze and uttered slowly, "I don't even like rabbits."

Carl stood frozen next to me, his eyes filled with guilt.

How ironic this moment was.

While Carl had always played the role of the devoted lover, he didn't even know what the woman he claimed to have loved for a decade truly liked.

On the other hand, he remembered every little detail about the preferences of his secretary, whom he'd only known for a few months.

I turned to leave, but he mistook my action for a tantrum.

Grabbing my arm, he pulled me into his embrace.

His scent surrounded me, but instead of comfort, it made me feel sick.

Holding me tightly, he spoke with concern, "Are you feeling unwell? I'm sorry. I admit I've been too busy lately and neglected your feelings. Once I wrap up these projects, I'll take you out to buy whatever gifts you like, okay? Double the amount, even!"

If I had heard this in the past, I might have lost all reason and forgiven him.

But after being rushed to the hospital for emergency treatment that one time, I didn't want anything to do with him anymore.

I simply couldn't bring myself to keep pretending that everything was fine when he had forgotten my life-threatening allergy to please another woman.

Once he calmed down, I firmly pried his arms away and said, "You don't need to apologize. If you feel that guilty, throw me a proper birthday party."

Throughout our years together, I'd never had a real birthday celebration because Carl was always too busy with his startup business.

Nonetheless, since I was leaving in two days, I wanted to experience it with him just once.

My simple request caused a flash of panic to cross his face, and unease crept into his expression.

Carl nodded in agreement. But before he could say anything further, his phone rang.

With a glance at the screen, he hurriedly explained, "The pack's meeting has been rescheduled. I have to head back immediately to deal with it.

"Once the resource allocation is finalized, combined with your parents' support, my plan to succeed as the Moonstone Pack's leader will be solid. Don't wait up for me tonight. I promise I'll keep my word about the party."

He was already backing toward the door as he spoke, and the moment he finished, he was out the door.

I stood still while listening to the distinctive ringtone fade away.

It was Ivy's personalized ringtone.

I knew it well, but I didn't call him out on it.

The next morning, party planners arrived at the house.

Ivy came along too.

With a bright smile, she said, "Blaire, I designed the party layout, so I came to oversee things."

She stood there, confident and composed, as though she owned the place.

By evening, after a whole day of preparation, I realized that the setup looked oddly familiar. It was a simplified version of Ivy's previous birthday party.

Once the staff left, Ivy walked over to me with a smug smile and remarked provocatively, "Blaire, everyone worked hard today. What do you think? Does it suit you?"

I stared at the ring on her finger—the very one I'd lost.

My voice turned icy as I replied, "Secondhand items suit you well. Keep them for yourself."

The words had barely left my lips when she glanced to the side, then grabbed a decorative silver knife from the cabinet and slashed her own arm. Blood dripped as she whimpered pitifully.

Before I could react, Carl had already slapped me across the face.

"Have you had enough? Ivy took time off to help organize your party, and this is how you repay her? If you're not happy with it, then do it yourself!"

Without giving me a chance to explain, he stormed out with Ivy in his arms.

I spent the entire night alone in the lively yet hollow living room.

By morning, no one had shown up for the party.

Of course, no one would come. Over the past ten years, it had always just been me, orbiting around Carl.

When the birthday cake arrived, I opened the box, cut a small slice for myself, and lit a tiny candle. Closing my eyes, I made a wish.

I wished to never see him again.

Because Ivy had deliberately chosen a mango-flavored cake, I couldn't eat it due to my allergy.

When the countdown ended and my phone buzzed loudly with a reminder, I picked up my suitcase and left the Moonstone Pack without looking back.

On my train, which was heading to another pack, I sent Carl one final text message.

"We're over. Don't contact me again."

It wasn't even a breakup.

One word was enough to bid farewell to ten years of my youth and my obsession with Carl.

As the train whistle sounded and it began to pull away, my phone lit up with a flurry of calls from him.