Chapter 1

Three years long-distance, and the shared calendar between me and my boyfriend Evan turned out to be a record of his life with his assistant, his junior colleague Sage.

I'm his girlfriend—the real one—and if I wanted to see him, I had to submit a booking request to Sage in advance.

Anniversary dinner? Denied.

Birthday celebration for me? Denied.

Even when I was running a fever of 102, I typed "I want to see you" into the calendar, and Sage deleted it outright.

When I asked Evan about it, all he said was:

"Sage manages my time for me. Don't drag me down with trivial things."

Later he took first place in the national competition.

I stood in the audience clutching a cake I'd carried across seven hours of travel,

and I heard him laugh into the microphone: "Thank God for Sage. She shielded me from every unnecessary distraction."

After the ceremony, he finally saw me. His brow furrowed. "What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you not to bother me during the competition?"

Sage took the trophy from him and turned to me, her voice gentle. "Sweetheart, truly loving someone means clearing the path for their future, not monopolizing their time."

I nodded, and swallowed back the congratulations I'd rehearsed for weeks.

If he thought I was a distraction, a drain on his time,

then I would step out of his future entirely.

...

I stood in the shadows of the backstage corridor, still holding the cake, its frosting beginning to slump.

Seven hours on a long-distance bus, two transfers—just so he could take a single bite.

"Evan, just one bite. After that, I promise I won't make a scene."

That familiar weariness surfaced in his eyes, the look of a man enduring a difficult child.

"I have to watch my sugar before the ceremony, and there's a media interview afterward. You rode seven hours on a bus just to force cake down my throat?"

I said nothing more. I turned and went back to the motel.

That night I opened the settings page of our shared calendar.

The cursor hovered over the "Leave Shared Calendar" button. I paused for two seconds, then clicked.

A confirmation box popped up: "This action will permanently sever your calendar link with Evan Chen. Continue?"

"Continue."

The moment the screen refreshed, the hotel door swung open.

Evan walked in, glanced at the untouched cake box on the table, adjusted his tie knot, and said casually:

"You haven't left yet? I guess you missed the last bus."

I pushed the plastic knife back down into the box. "I rebooked. Leaving tomorrow morning."

Sage followed him in, set the trophy carefully on the windowsill, her smile pitched just right.

"Don't take it the wrong way, Lena. The committee added a last-minute interview. Evan's phone has been with me all day—there was no way to tell you in advance."

"It's fine." I closed the cake box. "I've booked another hotel."

Evan frowned, reached out and touched the back of my hand. His voice softened.

"Your hand's freezing. Why go to all that trouble? Take the suite tonight—Sage in the outer room, you in the inner, I'll crash with the guys."

That line, once, would have been enough to convince me he still cared about propriety.

But Sage had already unzipped a suitcase and pulled a set of men's pajamas from an inner pocket, handing them over with practiced ease.

"Your stomach meds are with me too. Take them now, so you don't wake up hurting in the middle of the night."

Evan took the water glass and tipped the pill back.

"Good thing you remember."

I lowered my eyes to the five hand-drawn sun symbols on the cake box.

That was my private mark, one I'd designed back in my meteorology research days.

Junior year, he'd said he would draw me a sun for every year we survived apart.

The fifth—he'd never gotten around to it.

Sage leaned over to look. "The little cloud is cute. The colors are a bit faded, though. Lena, Evan can't eat dairy cream anymore—it makes him drowsy. Let me cut him a small slice."

"No need." I lifted the box. "If he won't eat it, throw it out."

Evan caught my wrist. His grip wasn't tight, but I couldn't move.

"Lena, don't be petty. Sage is taking care of me. Do you have to twist every kind gesture into something ugly?"

"Then take a bite."

Sage let out a soft sigh and picked up the plastic knife. "I'll have some for him. That way your effort isn't wasted."

She sliced through the fifth sun. Cream smeared across the base of the trophy.

Evan pulled out a tissue and wiped her fingers first.

The pressure on my wrist suddenly eased.

He let me go, his voice smoothing out. "Be good. Once things settle down, I'll make up the anniversary. All right?"

"When?"

"We'll figure it out later."

I pulled up my own work calendar and, right in front of him, deleted next month's birthday reminder. Then I deleted the ticket-purchase date for our New Year's Eve trip.

He saw it. All he did was rub his temple. "Don't threaten me with deleted reminders. Isn't that a little juvenile?"

I didn't explain. I picked up the cake and walked to the door.

Sage suddenly called after me.

"Lena, did you leave the shared calendar? The admin panel just flagged an unlink request."

Evan's hand paused around the water glass.

He didn't ask me why. He just looked at Sage.

"Don't approve it yet. Give her a three-day cooling-off period."

As Sage tapped at her phone, I caught sight of one of her own blue entries still on the screen.

Tomorrow night, nine o'clock.

The title was a single word.

Replace.