Skye's POV
“Derick, I don’t like you having a female assistant.” And just like that, he replaced all his secretaries with men.
“Derick, I want to eat Parisian pastries.” He’d wake up at dawn to stand in line and buy them for me.
“Derick, I wish I could see you as soon as I leave the lab.” The next day, he was at the school gates waiting to pick me up.
My classmates envied me. To them, I had the perfect boyfriend who always knew how to take care of me.
But when it came to marriage, that one request suddenly made me "unreasonable."
For the first time, I saw annoyance flash in Derick’s eyes when he looked at me. I realized then—I had made a mistake.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Derick, I was joking. I just graduated! I still have so much I want to do. Marriage? I’m not ready either.”
He exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing, and cupped my face gently with his warm hands.
“Skye, don’t worry. I’ll keep my promises to you.”
I nodded, and we silently agreed to drop the topic.
But I knew. Seven years had passed, and he’d endured it all. Once his little first love returned, he could cast me aside without hesitation.
What can I do, though?
Derick, this time, I’ll leave you first.
We sat together on the couch in silence for a long while, the tension between us hanging heavily in the air.
All of a sudden, his phone rang, breaking the stillness.
Startled, he glanced at the screen, then smiled warmly and walked into his study to answer.
Quietly, I followed and stood outside the door. For the first time in seven years, I heard a woman’s voice on one of Derick’s calls.
“Derick, I’m coming back.”
“Derick, do you blame me for leaving all those years ago?”
“I still love you. Do you still love me?”
The man inside stayed silent for what felt like an eternity. At that moment, I was more nervous than Derick himself. I found myself praying—begging the heavens—for him to reject her.
But fate had other plans. Even the gods must have grown tired of my foolishness.
His answer finally came, shattering me completely.
“I love you.”
Those three words—what I had longed to hear for seven years—were not meant for me.
Derick had never said “I love you” to me. The closest he ever came was, “Skye, I like you.”
Even in our most intimate moments, when I whispered, “Derick, I love you,” all I got in return was his raspy, “Skye, I like you too.”
I had once argued with him over it and moved back to my dorm in a fit of fury. That night, he stood outside my dorm building, waiting for me until dawn. Looking haggard, he begged me not to leave him and also said he liked me a lot.
Looking at the man who seemed so heartbroken, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him.
Now, it finally hit me. Derick was capable of loving someone. But not just me.
When he came out of the study, I was already lying in bed, pretending to be asleep.
He leaned down and whispered softly in my ear, “Skye, Paris has some new pastries. I’ll go get them for you.”
Half-asleep, I mumbled my agreement.
When I heard the door close behind him, I sat up instantly, fully awake. I then quickly got dressed and followed him.
He drove to a five-star restaurant, where his friends were already waiting at the entrance. When they saw him, they couldn’t resist teasing.
“Derick, have you already tuck Skye in?"
"You're now planning for Miss Alanna’s birthday party, huh? You sure have the energy to spare.”
“Miss Snee is coming back soon. Better hide Skye before she finds out!”
“Derick, treating Skye like this—do you think Piers will let you off the hook?”
Derick’s expression darkened with irritation. “Enough. Stop wasting time and get to work. Skye’s been acting crazy, insisting on marriage. It took me forever to shut her down. Don’t let anything slip, got it?”
