Chapter 3Five Years of Love, Shattered by Hidden Truths

Logan tried coaxing me several times, but when I kept refusing, his expression darkened.

“Well, babe, get some sleep. I need to swing by the office for work.”

Marlow, my best friend, used to joke about Logan's persistence:

“You should be grateful. A man only sticks around like that if he loves you.”

I used to think she was right.

Logan never hid his physical desires.

But now I understand the difference between men and women: men can separate their desires from their hearts, offering one to each.

If a man truly loves someone, would he so carelessly hurt her to the point of breaking?

On his secret WhatsApp story, Logan once described Wren as:

"You’re my moonlight and a red string of fate. Just looking at you from afar is enough to fulfill me."

And yet, the first time Logan and I spent the night together, he treated me with reckless abandon, leaving me bruised and sobbing, begging him to stop.

The difference between love and indifference—between us—was a gap I could never cross.

I followed Logan to a café.

Wren, dressed in a plaid schoolgirl skirt, was waiting at the door.

She looped her arms around Logan’s waist as if they were teenage sweethearts.

Logan pushed her against the wall, whispering something that made her smile.

Under the dim streetlight, the two kissed passionately.

From my hidden corner, I snapped photos of the scene.

After five years of dating Logan, we’d tried every kind of intimacy, but he’d always avoided kissing me.

Watching them, lips locked and bodies closed, I chuckled bitterly.

So, it wasn’t that he hated kissing—it was just that he didn’t want to kiss me.

Logan trailed kisses down Wren’s neck, stopping when he reached her collarbone.

“Let’s leave it here for tonight. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Wren clung to him with a teasing pout.

“Going back to that other woman?”

Logan hesitated before replying, “You’re the most beautiful. She’s nothing more than a placeholder.”

That seemed to satisfy her, and she smiled.

Logan added casually, “Does the shop still have any ice cream? I’d like to take one with me.”

At that moment, my phone buzzed with a message from Logan:

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m bringing you your favorite pistachio ice cream. Happy now?”