Chapter 2

The air seemed to freeze.

Cassandra stared, her face twisting in shock and humiliation.

She had never imagined that I, Dean, who had always been at her beck and call, would ever refuse her.

“What did you say?” Her voice was hoarse, as if she couldn’t believe her own ears.

The murmuring of our classmates died down. All eyes were on us, filled with a thirst for drama.

After all, my affection for Cassandra was an open secret across the entire campus.

For four long years, I had loved her like a fool, a walking punchline.

Meeting her gaze, I repeated my words, slowly and clearly: “I said, I don’t like you anymore.”

Then I held up my phone. On the screen, her deleted SnapChat contact screamed at her, a brutal slap to the face. The red exclamation mark was particularly glaring.

“Did you get it, Cassandra?”

The blood vessels in her eyes instantly burst, and she snatched my wrist, her grip alarmingly strong, her nails almost digging into my skin.

“Dean, have you played enough of your little game of playing hard to get?!”

“Don’t think I’ll even glance at you if you use such pathetic tricks!”

A sharp pain shot through my wrist, strikingly similar to the way she had clutched me in her dying moments in my past life.

Then, she had used her last ounce of strength to beg for my forgiveness for her inability to love.

Now, she was using all her strength to accuse me of not loving her.

The irony was crushing.

I didn’t struggle. A sarcastic smirk curved my lips.

“Cassandra, have you forgotten? Just a minute ago, you were begging Liam to be with you.”

“And now, you’re coming to me, your backup plan?”

“What makes you think I, Dean, should wait around for you?”

“Wait for you to be rejected by someone else, just so I can pick up your unwanted leftovers?”

Cassandra’s face instantly paled, and the strength in her grip loosened.

I seized the opportunity to pull my hand free, rubbing my reddened wrist. Without another look at her, I turned and walked away.

Behind me, her low roar, thick with suppressed fury, followed.

“Dean, you’ll regret this! You’ll come back begging for me!”

My steps didn’t falter.

Regret?

In my past life, I sacrificed ten years of my youth for her, accompanying her from nothing to a multi-billion dollar fortune, only to receive, in the end, a wish to marry Liam.

I had already tasted all the regret this life and the next could offer.

This time, the one who should regret, Cassandra, is you.

Walking out of the noisy auditorium, the evening breeze brushed my face, carrying a hint of coolness.

I took a deep breath. The crushing weight that had pressed on my chest for a decade finally seemed to crack.

My eyes inexplicably stung, and a single tear silently traced a path down my cheek.

Not for her, but for my pathetic, foolish past self.

Back in the dorm, it was a complete mess.

After the graduation frenzy, all that remained was the hollow quiet of empty rooms.

Silently, I began to pack my things, unearthing one by one the objects connected to Cassandra.

The inexpensive cufflinks she had carelessly given me, which I had cherished for ten years.

The first draft of her business plan, which I had burned the midnight oil for three nights, helping her refine and perfect.

And the first, and only, gift she ever gave me: a copy of *One Hundred Years of Solitude*.

On the flyleaf, she had written: “For a soul as solitary as yours.”

I thought it was a romantic gesture, a sign we were kindred spirits.

Later, I learned she had given Liam a copy of *Love in the Time of Cholera*. That was the true love of her life.

I was just a convenient distraction for her loneliness.