Simon Gudrick had two concert tickets tucked neatly into the pocket of his tailored suit. I thought he had planned a surprise for me. I was giddy with anticipation, counting down the days until the concert. But when the day finally came, I found out he had taken those tickets and gone on a business trip instead.
With the help of a few connections and a ridiculous amount of money, I managed to get a ticket last minute. And that’s when I saw it.
Onstage, under the dazzling lights and booming music, he was kissing another girl—deeply, passionately, like they were in the middle of their own love story. Their kiss was so emotional, so raw, that the camera crew caught it and broadcasted it on the giant screen for thousands of people to see.
After the concert, I stumbled across the girl's social media post.
[Sharing a kiss with the love of my life at our idol’s concert… Best birthday gift ever.]
The comment section was filled with blessings and heart emojis.
[Wishing you 99!] they said, wishing them a love that would last a hundred years.
Meanwhile, I got hit by a car. His car. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Simon was sitting beside me, scrolling through his phone, a soft smile playing on his lips. A smile I had never seen him wear when he was with me.
I asked, "Who is she?"
Without even lifting his eyes, he replied coldly, “I’m your boss. Now that you’re awake, just focus on recovering.”
Then he walked away—no hesitation, no guilt. I turned my head away from the door and dialed my uncle’s number.
“Uncle, about that arranged marriage you mentioned… I’ll do it. I’ll marry him.”
——
There was a long pause on the other end, followed by a sigh of relief. “Meggy, finally. That man hid you in the dark for five whole years. A man like that doesn’t deserve to see the light of day.”
“When can you come back? I just messaged them—they’re already asking to finalize the wedding date.”
Five years with Simon and I was always the one left in the shadows. Now that he clearly wanted nothing to do with me, I figured he wouldn’t stand in my way if I resigned.
“The sooner the better,” I said. “I can handle the resignation process quickly.”
But then he came back into the hospital room—turns out he’d left something behind.
“Resign? Who’s resigning from our company?” he asked casually, while looking around for his car keys.
He would need to sign off on my resignation anyway, so I didn’t bother hiding it. But he didn’t even look up from his phone long enough to see me nod.
He picked up his keys and said with a half-laugh, “Doctor said you hit your head. Might even have memory loss. Honestly, I almost believed it.”
“The car... it was mine,” he added, almost offhandedly. “The streetlights were dim and you were staring at your phone…”
I froze. So that was it. That was why he hadn’t said a word, hadn’t explained anything and acted like I was just some employee.
Ten minutes ago, when he called himself “just my boss,” his face was a picture of professional indifference—polite, distant, with the perfect amount of scripted concern. But not an ounce of guilt.
Right before I passed out, I had seen the car with my own eyes. Simon was in the passenger seat. The girl he’d kissed was the one behind the wheel. He hadn’t even let me question him. He just made up some excuse about the company being too busy and left.
At the time, I thought he was avoiding me because he didn’t know how to face me after hitting me with the car. But the truth was far more pathetic. I didn’t matter to him. Not even enough to feel guilty.
Still dazed, I smiled politely and said, “Guess I was still a bit foggy when I woke up. Didn’t recognize you, boss.”
He barely responded. And I played along, pretending everything was fine. He turned to look at me again, probably confused.
The girl who used to demand cuddles and kisses even for a paper cut—now sat there emotionless, quiet.
Simon glanced around the room, confirming no one else was there, then softened his tone and said, “Meggy, hospitals are full of people and gossip. We can’t risk anyone seeing us like this. Just rest, recover. Once you’re home, I’ll make it up to you.”
I gave him a calm, practiced smile. “Thank you… boss.”
I used to call him “boss” as a flirty joke in private. But this time, the word felt cold, like a wall between us. He frowned. He noticed the difference.
Just as he was about to say something, the doctor came in for a routine check. Instantly, Simon slipped back into his corporate mask—cool and detached.
Before walking out, he paused at the door and turned back with a final reminder. “Get some rest. And don’t think your special relationship gives you any privileges at my company. Everyone’s treated equally. Everything follows the rules.”
