Lory’s POV
Bettina was the first to rush over and help Frayne up. I immediately turned my eyes to him, silently pleading for help, but his gaze remained fixed only on her.
The two of them clung to each other, kissed, and left the scene hand in hand.
Before walking away, Bettina even threw me a mocking smile.
In an instant, the light of hope in my eyes dimmed. It felt as if the hot blood surging through my veins had frozen on the spot.
During those endless days on the hospital bed, whenever I closed my eyes, the image of Frayne turning his back on me replayed over and over again.
In that haze of memories, I finally understood.
I wasn’t just saying goodbye to Frayne. I was saying goodbye to the girl I used to be.
It was time to end this love.
“Dad, Mom… I’m sorry for making you worry,” I told my parents.
I paused before adding softly, “Can we… move away?”
Although I eventually recovered enough to walk, the injury to my leg was too severe. I would never again be able to engage in strenuous activity.
No matter how many times Frayne and his parents came knocking on our door with apologies, I refused to see them.
In the end, fearing for my health, my parents decided to uproot everything. We moved north and never looked back.
By the age of twenty-six, the magazine I had founded was already making waves on major forums across the country. That success led to an invitation to attend an elite networking conference.
What I didn’t expect was to run into Frayne there.
Once, he was the person I thought of day and night, the love engraved into my bones.
And yet, he was also the executioner who had pushed me into the abyss.
Perhaps love could never be judged in terms of right or wrong. Maybe, on that day, he had simply been too consumed with protecting Bettina and had forgotten me.
But it was true—I no longer wanted to look at him again.
But perhaps it was fate. Some things seemed to be arranged by unseen hands.
One afternoon at the supermarket, we happened to reach for the same brand of yogurt.
Frayne froze where he stood, his eyes trembling.
A storm of emotions churned inside me, pressing down on my chest until I could hardly breathe.
At my side, Tom Dillon quickly steadied me. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
I shook my head, my voice hoarse. “Just a little dizzy.”
I tried to step past him, but before I could take another step, a hand grabbed my arm. I stumbled forward, crashing right into Frayne’s embrace.
“Lory, are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and strained.
He leaned closer, desperation etched across his features. “Please… give me a chance to make things right. Don’t leave me again, okay?”
I tried again and again to break free. But each time, he blocked my way.
Just then, Tom reappeared, shoving him back with force. Broad-shouldered and solidly built, his frame towered over Frayne’s leaner figure.
“Hey, man,” Tom said sharply. “Do you really have to cling to her like this?”
His voice hardened. “Try laying a hand on her again, and don’t blame me if I get rough.”
He rolled his neck, and his knuckles cracked with a sharp series of pops.
Frayne narrowed his eyes. Their gazes clashed like sparks in the air.
“Tom,” I said quickly, my voice unsteady. “Take me home.”
He grinned. “Your wish is my command.”
Looping his arm through mine, Tom marched us straight out of the supermarket.
After returning to my hometown, I hadn’t had much direct contact with Frayne, though mutual friends occasionally mentioned him.
I later learned that not long after my family moved away, things between him and Bettina fell apart.
He had thrown a stack of cash at her in public, ordering her to get lost. From then on, he devoted himself entirely to his studies.
By the time he took the SATs, his scores in nearly every subject were close to perfect, attracting offers from all the top universities.
After graduation, he went alone to New York to start a business. In just a few short years, he had transformed himself into a multimillionaire.
Wherever he stood, his presence was undeniable—so commanding it set him apart from everyone around him.
Tom, however, was different.
Though his family was well-off, he never flaunted it. Whether making friends or chatting casually, he never carried himself like the stereotypical rich second generation.
