Chapter 2

I took the train back home, but my mood remained low throughout the journey.

People online say that when you experience heartbreak, you should go hiking and completely empty your mind so that you don't have time to think about the other person.

However, even when I felt physically exhausted and weak, he was still the first thing on my mind.

My room was filled with things that I moved out of his house, which were packed up by Winston.

Each box was labeled with black marker written what was inside. Even in breaking up, he was considerate.

Aside from the fact that he might not have loved me as much as I thought, we got along well.

At that time, we had been dating for three months without any intimate moments. I began to suspect if he was gay and using our relationship as a facade for a sham marriage, or if he felt insecure due to some sexual inadequacy.

I couldn't accept either possibility, so I used an excuse and decided to stay over at his place that day.

I figured if I had to face the consequence, I might as well make it quick.

It was a very cliche story. I came out of the shower wearing his white shirt to dry my hair, and the wet water droplets soaked the shirt.

The shirt clung tightly to my back, revealing my attractive curves.

Under the dim yellow light, his gaze appeared mysterious, while his Adam's apple moved up and down with a sensual charm.

Step by step, Winston approached me, gracefully removing his glasses. His tender kisses landed on my neck.

The skin he touched felt like it was on fire, and I blushed as I looked at him, he felt aggressive to me for the first time.

With a smile in his voice, he asked, "Was that intentional?"

Winston's eyes showed a hint of redness, but he still restrained himself and proceeded to dry my hair before embracing me tightly.

Looking back later, I realized how poor and contrived my acting skills were that day.

Then it naturally progressed to us living together.

He would read medical research papers while I snuggled in his embrace, wearing headphones and binge-watching shows.

When he cooked a big meal, I would assist him and prepare the ingredients by his side.

He would take time off to accompany me on outings and patiently take photos for me.

Once I started taking this relationship seriously, I introduced him to my parents.

He came to my house with bags of gifts, displaying polite manners and confident behavior. My parents couldn't stop smiling that day.

They had me when they were in their thirties, so they raised me with great care. Their biggest worry was that I wouldn't be well taken care of when they were no longer around.

With a boyfriend who was highly educated, handsome, and skilled in cooking, they believed my future would be bright regardless what happened.

My father told him earnestly. "Quincey has been spoiled by us, so please be more considerate of her in the future."

Winston nodded with equal seriousness and assured my father that he would always cherish me and never let me down.

To some extent, he did keep his word.

However, it wasn't out of love, but rather because I was his girlfriend.

If I didn't care about the fact that he didn't love me as much, we could have lived happily together.

But unfortunately, I did care.

The post I posted on received a few likes. When I clicked to view them, Winston's profile picture was at the top.

Suddenly, I remembered something I had overlooked.

He had a day shift today, so how could he still be awake according to his usual routine?

Could it be that he was tossing and turning because of me?

After finishing two music lessons the next day, I rushed to his hospital.

I deliberately took a seat in his usual dining spot and even brought him a bottle of yogurt that he liked.

Perhaps due to the large number of patients seeking medical attention, I had to wait for half an hour before I finally saw him.

With this face, he was considered a celebrity in the hospital. Even with a mask on, he was still the most eye-catching one in the crowd.

I shook the yogurt in my hand, about to call out to him.

Then I saw someone gently tap his shoulder from behind. It was a beautiful woman who smiled and struck up a conversation with him.

"Dr. Jackson, would you like to have dinner together?"

Her red lips were too eye-catching, visible to everyone within a five-meter radius.

I panicked, fearing that Winston might agree to that woman's invitation. I hastily placed my bag on the chair and hurriedly approached him.

"Winston, I need to talk to you."

He seemed a little surprised to see me here.

As his gaze shifted past me towards the familiar seat and the bottle of yogurt, his eyes subtly flickered.

"Why are you here?"

My tone was a little awkward. "I have something to ask you."

The woman who was being ignored raised an eyebrow and smiled as she asked, "Dr. Jackson, who is this?"

"My ex-girlfriend."

Winston replied in a calm tone, without any trace of animosity.

I understood him, he was simply stating a fact.

And indeed, it was a fact. But hearing it from him was still unpleasant.

"Oh, so you're Dr. Jackson's ex-girlfriend. Hello, I'm Xaria Foster, a colleague of Dr. Jackson."

Was she implying that she now had a closer relationship with Winston by intentionally pointing out my identity?

I was certain that Xaria had feelings for him.

I maintained a smile on my face and greeted her in the same manner.

"Oh, so you're Dr. Jackson's colleague. Hello, I'm Quincey, his ex-girlfriend."

Xaria looked embarrassed, perhaps not expecting me to respond with such sarcasm.

"Well, since Dr. Jackson is busy, let's arrange another time to meet. I'm not particularly fond of this noisy environment anyway."

She quickly regained her composure, gracefully flicked her hair, and left.

Hearing Xaria's words, it was hard not to speculate that she came here because of Winston.

My chest felt heavy, and my stomach inconveniently growled.

I was absent-minded the whole morning, constantly thinking about his intention of liking my photo that night, and even forgot to eat breakfast.

Now, I felt even more ashamed in front of him. I was incredibly frustrated.

Winston glanced at me, his gaze slightly cold. "Go sit, I'll go get the food."

I said nothing more and sat down obediently.

I had rushed off earlier without properly closing my bag, so everything inside spilled out onto the chair. A lipstick rolled into a corner.

I crouched down, struggling to reach it, but my arms weren't long enough. I ended up looking quite awkward.

"What are you doing?"

"My lipstick fell inside."

I clumsily searched on the floor, unable to reach it. My expression turned somewhat grimace-like.

Failing to find the lipstick, I felt a warm hand unexpectedly touch mine. My eyes widened, almost thinking it was a ghost.

Just as I was about to scream, my hand was gently patted, followed by Winston's deep voice.

"It's me, don't scream."

...

A round lipstick tube rolled in front of me.

I picked it up and sat back down, noticing that Winston was already sitting across from me, meticulously wiping his hands with wet wipes.

He even handed me a few.

"The hospital is dirty, clean it up."

I felt a tinge of bitterness as I wished that he would care about me a little more.

"Who was that Dr. Foster?"

After I said it, I realized that I sounded so jealous.

He raised an eyebrow slightly. "Just a colleague."

"Just a colleague?"

Winston paused with his fork in hand, a hint of mockery flickering in his eyes.

"Similar to the person in the photo you posted."

So, that was the reason.

He was about to leave after finishing his meal, not even considering taking the yogurt.

I hurriedly reached out and grabbed his sleeve. And I explained in a low voice. "That was a photo of a foreign idol, I photoshopped it myself."

After I said that, the coldness on Winston seemed to dissipate a little.

He pursed his lips and asked, "What do you need from me?"

I didn't loosen my grip on his sleeve and stared at him with wide eyes.

"...I left something at your place."

The atmosphere that had just eased suddenly froze again.

Winston slowly pulled my hand away, his voice filled with coldness.

"Oh, I'll send it to you after work."

"No need, let's wait until you finish work..."

I was just about to say that we could go get it together after he got off work, but he interrupted me.

"I don't think we need to see each other anymore."

His sleeve was left wrinkled from my pulling, and he brushed it off heavily. Then, in a cold and indifferent tone, he warned me.

"Besides, I don't want to see you either."