Chapter 3

Aurora POV

Julian clearly froze.

"The store's doing inventory today, so we're closed."

His lie tumbled out, so quickly he barely had time to think.

He couldn't meet my eyes. As soon as the words were out, he turned, grabbed the keys from behind the door, and urged, "Come on, let's go, don't waste any more time."

He pulled my wrist out the door and onto a creaky old bicycle.

I knew he'd bought that bike for fifty bucks from a graduating senior; it was just one of his props for maintaining his 'poor student' image.

The wind was strong, blowing straight into my collar.

Sitting on the back, I clearly saw that in his haste, he'd buttoned the top two buttons of his shirt incorrectly, his collar askew, lending him a look of disheveled absurdity.

But he was oblivious, putting all his strength into his legs, pedaling furiously toward Tiffany's apartment.

Bouncing on the bumpy back seat, watching his slightly hunched back, the past three years suddenly flooded my mind.

Countless times, he'd done this, using the excuse that "loving me means loving my friends" to drag me along to clean up Tiffany's messes.

Tiffany's cat got lost, he stayed up all night helping her search; Tiffany's computer broke, he rushed over in heavy rain to fix it; Tiffany wanted to see a concert, he'd always manage to get two of the best tickets, then bring me along, calling it "accompanying her together."

Each time, he'd offer the most righteous-sounding reasons. "She's your best friend. If I take care of her a bit more, you'll be more at ease."

I truly believed him back then, even feeling touched that I had such a considerate boyfriend.

But now, sitting on this familiar old bike, feeling his frantic anxiety for another woman, I only found it utterly laughable.

Tiffany's apartment was a mess.

She lived in the most luxurious apartment building downtown, her monthly rent more than ten times ours.

Right now, in this expensive space, designer bags and clothes were strewn everywhere.

Tiffany sat on the costly wool rug, barefoot, her exquisite makeup smeared with tears, crying.

Julian, seeing the scene the moment he entered, instantly filled with concern.

He completely forgot I was behind him, strode over, knelt down, picked up a slipper nearby, and gently put it on her foot. Then, he pulled out tissues, carefully wiping her tears, his voice lowered, full of coaxing.

"There, there, stop crying. Your eyes will get all puffy."

Under his coaxing, Tiffany's sobs gradually subsided, and she leaned into his shoulder.

I stood by the doorway, quietly watching this tender scene, quickly figuring out the cause.

She was crying simply because her boyfriend, Mason Stone, wouldn't buy her the latest limited edition platinum handbag.

I saw through it instantly: it was just her usual rich-girl tantrum, her go-to tactic to manipulate her boyfriend.

I watched, stone-faced, as Julian pulled out all the stops, from telling lame jokes to brewing herbal tea, to promising to "teach" Mason Stone a lesson, finally managing to make Tiffany laugh through her tears.

To make her completely happy, Julian suggested taking her out to sea for a change of scenery.

On the private dock's yacht, as soon as we boarded, a server greeted us with champagne.

Tiffany immediately became a princess surrounded by admirers, joyfully soaking in the flattery from Julian's wealthy friends.

"Tiffany, you look stunning today!"

"Julian, you're too good to her! To make you happy, he even booked Mr. Qin's yacht!"

Tiffany's face bloomed into a radiant smile again, fully enjoying the queen-like treatment Julian had arranged for her.

I was squeezed to a corner at the stern of the boat. My foot accidentally caught on a rope, and I nearly fell.

I steadied myself, gripping the cold railing, and looked up. Everyone's focus was on Tiffany and Julian. No one noticed my presence.

As evening fell, the yacht sailed into open waters.

The wind on deck grew stronger. Tiffany complained about the cold, snuggling into Julian's arms like a spoiled child.

Julian immediately took off his suit jacket and thoughtfully draped it over her.

I was also cold. My cold hadn't completely cleared, so I could only stand a few steps away, quietly pulling my thin jacket tighter.

A huge wave suddenly crashed, hitting the side of the boat, splashing a large spray of water.

Julian instinctively turned, shielding Tiffany completely with his body, blocking all the splashing seawater.

I stood right behind him and was drenched from head to toe.

Icy seawater dripped from my hair, soaking my shirt, which clung tightly to my skin.

My lingering cold immediately worsened, and I shivered uncontrollably.

I looked up and saw Julian looking down at Tiffany with concern, gently asking if she was startled, or if she got wet.

From the moment we stepped into Tiffany's apartment, Julian's gaze had continuously revolved around her. Not once, not even for a second, had it fallen on me.

I was like a ghost, completely invisible in his world.