Chapter 2

The private room fell into a terrifying silence. All eyes were on me.

My knuckles were white from gripping my wine glass, my throat felt squeezed by an invisible hand, and even breathing became difficult.

Finally, someone broke the hush.

"Alex, you're serious?"

Alex leaned back lazily on the sofa, then lowered his head to kiss Bethany's hair:

"Of course, I'm serious. Those thirty-seven dating standards? Did you think they were just for show? I declare, I will marry no one but Bethany in this life."

"You'll marry no one but her? What about Alice?"

Someone couldn't help but ask,

"She's been with you since she was eighteen…"

Alex seemed to smile, lifting his gaze slightly to look at me, his eyes so unfamiliar it made my heart tremble:

"I never asked her to wait."

"My dating standards were always public. If she didn't meet them, is that my fault?"

Hearing that, my heart felt like it had been brutally stabbed, the pain almost making me double over.

But I knew, all eyes were on me, waiting for my reaction.

So, I forced myself to straighten up and raise my wine glass, my fingertips so cold I could barely feel the temperature of the glass.

"You're right, you never made me wait. I chose to, so I have to accept the consequences of my own choices."

I forced a smile,

"Alex, congratulations on getting what you wished for."

Alex raised an eyebrow, lifting his glass in a gesture:

"Thanks."

He took a sip of his drink, his Adam's apple bobbing,

"There are plenty of other guys out there. Don't waste your life on me, Alice. Try to like someone else."

I closed my eyes, my heart felt like it was being sawed open, instantly mangled and bleeding.

I was only five years old when I first met Alex. He looked like a prince from a fairy tale, playing the piano in a little suit.

From then on, I became his inseparable shadow.

They grew up together. At their high school graduation party when they were eighteen, they both got drunk and shared their first intimate moment.

Waking up the next day, I was nervous, thinking years of liking him had finally come to fruition.

But he just handed me a piece of paper.

He said these were his ideal partner standards.

The paper was densely packed with thirty-seven requirements, from height and weight to hair color and skin texture.

It even specified a beauty mark near the eye and dimples when she smiled.

"Last night was an accident."

He lit a cigarette, saying casually,

"Alice, you have two choices."

My fingers gripped the bedsheet tightly, my heart slowly growing cold.

"First, pretend nothing happened."

He exhaled a smoke ring,

"Second, we both enjoyed last night. We can be bed partners, and if I haven't found my ideal partner by the time I'm twenty-three, we'll be together."

I tremblingly took the paper. Thirty-seven standards, like thirty-seven knives, each piercing my heart.

Not a single one described me.

"I choose the second option."

I heard myself say.

Because I didn't believe such a girl truly existed in this world, and that Alex would happen to meet her.

Because I liked him too much. So, even if there was only a one in a million chance, I was willing to bet everything.

For these five years, I was with him, kissing in the back rows of classrooms, passionately entwined on rooftops, indulging in changing rooms.

Everyone knew I was his, but he never admitted it.

Just yesterday, he was clutching my waist, saying:

"Alice, so soft. I never want to let you go."

But now he casually said:

"You go try to like someone else…"

Just because he was afraid I'd cling to him.

My heart felt violently squeezed. I tilted my head back and drained the glass, the burning liquid searing my throat.

"Don't worry, I won't cling."

I heard myself say, my voice so faint it was almost inaudible,

"I'll keep my word. I'll make a clean exit."

I turned to leave, but then I saw Alex gently helping Bethany drink some milk.

A little milk stained her lips, and he leaned down to kiss it away:

"Silly girl."

That scene felt like a knife twisting in my heart. I stumbled out of the private room, only to be blocked by a few drunk men in the hallway.

"Hey beautiful, wanna exchange SnapChat IDs?"

The heavy smell of alcohol washed over me. Someone's hand touched my waist.

Someone from the private room shouted:

"Alex! Alice is in trouble!"

Through the gap in the door, I saw Alex, his head still down, his voice lazy:

"I have a girlfriend now. Her business has nothing to do with me."

As he spoke, he pinched Bethany's cheek,

"If I go help another girl, would you get mad, sweetie?"

"Of course I would!"

Bethany pouted playfully.

Alex smiled, dotingly:

"Then I won't help."

"After all these years, you really didn't like her?"

Someone asked, unwilling to give up.

Alex chuckled softly, his voice clear, each word like a knife piercing my heart:

"She didn't meet a single one of my dating standards. How could I like her?"

Those words completely shattered my last shred of dignity.

I violently pushed past the drunk men in front of me and stumbled out of The Grand Gala Lounge.

The cold wind on my face, tears finally broke free like a dam.

I didn't call a taxi. I walked home for two hours against the wind.

When I got home, I looked at my disheveled self in the mirror—

My makeup was smudged, my dress was wrinkled, my eyes were swollen like peaches.

This wasn't me, nor should it be.

Mechanically, I took off the ruined white dress and tossed it into the trash.

Just as Alex had coldly discarded our five years of shared history.

Then, I picked up my phone and dialed a number.

"Mr. Davies, I've thought about it. I accept the London Symphony Orchestra's offer."