Startled, I turned around, and a wave of joy washed over me.

"Lawrence..."

He gave me a reassuring smile and stepped beside me, offering quiet support for my weary self.

"Already found someone new, Stella? That was quick," Maurice said, his voice laced with a hint of anger.

"I have a childhood friend, too, Mr. Christy." I replied, stressing his name as a way to draw a line between us.

"Ah, just like us, Maurice," Cara added with a sweet smile, clearly trying to draw a parallel between her and Lawrence.

But Maurice didn't respond to her. His eyes were fixed on me, cold and unrelenting.

I ignored him, slipping my arm through Lawrence Wilde's, straightening my back, and walking away with my head held high.

Only when we were alone did I finally relax, stopping in my tracks as tears blurred my vision.

"Lawrence, I..."

"Don't worry, Stella. I'm here."

Lawrence gently pulled me into his arms, and my face pressed against his warm chest. The steady beat of his heart was soothing, providing a comfort I desperately needed.

My tears soaked his shirt, and I realized that while my feelings for Maurice had withered, they wouldn't vanish overnight.

I told myself it wasn't worth the pain, yet my chest ached with an unbearable sorrow.

I could face Maurice without flinching, but standing before a childhood friend like Lawrence, all my defenses crumbled.

Lawrence stroked my hair with a tenderness that seemed uncharacteristic of him.

"Stella, sorry that I was late. If I'd known you were going through this, I would've knocked him out earlier."

I wiped my tears and looked up at Lawrence's indignant expression, breaking into a smile despite myself.

"Next time, you better give him a good punch."

Lawrence and I had grown up together, our childhood filled with the playful bickering of two close friends. But before anything more could develop, he had left to study abroad.

At first, we stayed in touch, sharing everything, but that changed when I started dating Maurice.

Our communication became sparse. Even when I sent him an invitation to my wedding, his only response had been a terse "Okay."

In hindsight, I was relieved he hadn't come. That disastrous scene had been humiliating enough to leave my parents furious. I had barely managed to send them off on a flight, saving them from further embarrassment.

My wedding was not a glorious thing, and I didn't want Lawrence to see it.

Lawrence drove us to a cozy diner, where he ordered a table full of my favorite dishes.

The irony wasn't lost on me. After all, it had never been me who enjoyed French cuisine. That was all Cara, who had spent years living in France.

I smiled bitterly, silently vowing to forget Maurice.

The collaboration I was determined to secure fell into Cara's hands. After breaking up with Maurice, my sense of belonging in this city faded even more.

I decided to close my studio and move to a new city, hoping for a fresh start.

When my parents heard about my decision, they were thrilled and quickly started looking for a new place for me.

Lawrence was there to help me through it all. As we packed up the large studio, I felt a twinge of sadness.

"Stella, it's okay. You can continue your career in Bery City; your talent can't be taken away," he comforted,

After many years apart, he'd been more mature.

For days, I busied myself with the move, thinking of Maurice less and less.

Half a month later, I finally settled into my new place found by my parents.

Seeing Lawrence sweating from the effort, I hurried to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and handed to him.

Our fingers brushed, and I felt an unexpected spark.

After a moment of daze, something awakened inside me, and I swallowed unconsciously.

Just then, music played softly in the background, and when Lawrence looked at me, I hurriedly looked down, clearing my throat to hide my fluster.

For a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Annoyed with myself, I answered the ringing phone without even checking the name.

"Stella, where have you been?"

Maurice's voice came through, instantly dispelling any pleasant thoughts.

Frustrated, I replied flatly, "What's up?"

He pressed on, his tone tense.

"Stella, you moved without telling me? Do you still consider me your boyfriend?"

His high-handed tone transported me back to darker times.

I lowered my gaze, my mood darkening.

"Maurice, we're broken up. You're not my boyfriend anymore, and I can go wherever I want now. I don't owe you an explanation."

He ignored my words, insisting I was just sulking.

"You shouldn't be so angry. There's nothing between Cara and me. She is just my neighbor's sister.

"She did ask me for the collaboration. But it was just business. It was not a big deal. I can find you another collaboration opportunity. Why are you so upset?

"And if there were anything between us, we would have been together long ago. What are you so worried about?"

Disappointment was all I felt.

I had poured my heart into the project. If I was eliminated because of my lack of ability, I would be willing to accept it. I never expected the reason for my failure to be such a ridiculous one.

Even after leaving the city, Maurice carried on as if nothing had changed, oblivious to his faults.

Perhaps he knew it would upset me but simply didn't care.

I remembered the last time I celebrated his birthday. After a month of preparation, I designed a beautiful dress and invited friends to his party.

Everyone showed up except the guest of honor.

As I exchanged awkward glances with his friends, one handed me their phone, showing a photo of Maurice and Cara together, candles lit between them with the caption: [Of course, birthdays are meant to be celebrated with the most important people.]

I couldn't hold back my tears, consumed by that phrase: the most important person.

If Cara was the most important person to him, then what did I mean to him?

Friends discreetly left, and I waited until the early hours of the morning for Maurice to finally arrive.

He glanced around at the decorations, looking uncomfortable. "You're wasting your time on all this."

That night, we argued fiercely, and he repeated the same excuses.

"Cara is just my neighbor's sister. We've known each other for years. And if there were anything between us, we would have been together long ago."

I was tired of his poor excuse.

Seeing my distress, Lawrence, who had been quiet, grabbed the phone from me.

"Mr. Christy, no one believes your words. I've liked Stella since we were kids.

"If she hadn't been led astray back then, you wouldn't even have a chance."

This sudden confession of love left me dazed. For a moment, everything around me faded away, leaving just the warmth of Lawrence's presence, like a refreshing breeze on a summer day.

Maurice shouted something on the other end, but I barely heard. All I could think about was Lawrence's admission.

"I've liked Stella since we were kids."

Noticing my gaze, Lawrence showed a rare blush.

He ended the call and turned to me, his eyes shining like stars.

"Stella, I..."

My heart raced like a seed sprouting after years.

"You don't need to feel burdened. You don't have to respond to me."

Seeing my silence, Lawrence looked worried, a hint of panic in his expression.

"I thought I wasn't good enough for you, and it hurt to see you with someone else. If you are happy, I would be happy for you. But Maurice is a bastard!

"The scene I dreamt of—he casually threw it away for another woman.

"When I thought of you being hurt, I flew back from abroad. If I were the one marrying you, I would wake up smiling every day."

He tried to release my burden, but the way he fumbled, helpless and uncertain, spoke more deeply than any words ever could.

"You fool..."

I choked back tears, feeling a wave of unexpected comfort.