Chapter 1

I was the most pathetic, shameless doormat in Julian Vance’s life.

So pathetic that when he checked into a hotel with another girl in the middle of the night, I was the one who drove over to deliver condoms to his door.

Everyone assumed I couldn't live without him—that I loved him so deeply I threw away all my self-respect.

Years later, though, his eyes turned red, and his voice broke:

"Nina, I wish I was the one who died. If it meant you'd remember me for the rest of your life, it would have been worth it."

I just shook my head and gave a bitter smile. Even if you share ninety percent of his face, Julian... you will never be him.

When Luke left, my entire world crumbled into darkness. Nothing made sense anymore.

I couldn't wrap my head around it. How could the guy who swore he loved me more than his own life suddenly stop loving me?

How could someone so gentle utter words so heartless and freezing cold?

He told me he had never loved me.

He told me he had been sick and tired of my bad temper for a long time.

He said being with me was just a casual way to pass the time when he was bored.

He told me he wished he had never met me...

And after that, he vanished into thin air.

I called him like a crazy person and sent hundreds of messages, only to get blocked across every single app.

Every new number I bought to reach out was blocked immediately. He avoided me like the plague.

When I finally reached him on yet another burn phone, he sighed with utter disgust: "Nina, you're seriously annoying the hell out of me..."

I cried until I passed out.

The first time I tried to end my life, my parents found me in time.

They rushed me to the ER, begging me through tears to hold on.

My mom and dad wept beside my bed, telling me that a heartless bastard wasn't worth throwing my life away for.

I kept silent. If dying could bring Luke back, it would be worth everything.

It didn't matter if he stopped loving me. I still loved him.

The second time, I was completely determined.

I swallowed sleeping pills, slit my wrists, and was dragged back to the ER to have my stomach pumped.

I stared blankly at the sterile white ceiling. My parents were sobbing hysterically, saying that if I tried it again, they would just go right alongside me.

Suddenly, the curtain beside my bed was yanked open with a violent snap. "She's not even dead, so what the hell are you crying for? Can't a guy get some damn sleep around here?"

I turned my head. The moment my eyes landed on the man in the next bed, I froze.

He looked impossibly like Luke.

His brows, his gaze, his silhouette—they were an eighty or ninety percent match.

Except for the sharp temper. My Luke was always the gentlest soul on earth.

After that day, the thought of dying vanished from my mind.

I naively believed God had sent Julian Vance to me as a consolation prize.

Looking at him felt just like seeing Luke again.

Yet from the very second he crossed my path, Julian's own nightmare began.

My selfish sin would ultimately drag his entire life into ruin.

The day I was discharged, I threw myself into pursuing Julian, pretending it was love at first sight and a helpless, overwhelming crush.

I poured all the guilt, devotion, and longing I owed Luke straight onto Julian.

I didn't care whether he accepted it or sneered in my face.

At first, he told me I was like an annoying piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Over time, though, he grew addicted to how well I treated him. He started bragging to his buddies about how loyal and obedient his little doormat was.

When he complained that restaurant takeout tasted awful, I woke up early every single morning to pack fresh, homemade lunches and drop them off at his office.

When he casually whined that his gaming keyboard wasn't responsive enough and mentioned his buddy had a thousand-dollar setup, I scraped together my savings and bought him the exact one.

When he craved warm soup, I dragged my feverish body out of bed at four in the morning to make it from scratch, waiting outside his apartment before sunrise.

Whenever he went out drinking, one call was all it took for me to rush over, pick up the tab, and drive him home.

One night, standing just outside the bar's private lounge, I overheard his friends teasing him.

"Yo, Julian, don't tell me you actually fell for that desperate girl?"

"Her face is mid, her body is mid. Literally the only good thing about her is how hard she simps for you."

Through their drunk laughter, Julian's voice rang out especially sharp. "Are you kidding me? As if I'd ever fall for someone like her. But hey, she does whatever I say. She runs around serving me like a live-in maid. Why turn down free help?"