Chapter 2Fading Echoes: The Day I Left

Julian and I started dating during our freshman year of college.

He pursued me.

At the time, I was working part-time at a local pho shop near campus to earn tuition money. Julian fell in love with me at first sight.

To woo me, Julian—a bona fide trust-fund kid—ate pho every single day for a solid year.

On the day I finally agreed to date him, he got so sick of the food that he threw up violently right there in the shop. To this day, he still can't stand the smell of pho broth.

Knowing I was proud and wouldn't accept handouts, he ate at the cheap dining halls with me. He would buy fruit and milk and forcefully shove them into my hands:

“What if my future wife gets malnourished?”

Knowing I hated the smell of smoke, he quit smoking cold turkey. Once, when the cravings hit him hard, he braved the bewildered stares of his rich frat-boy friends, pulled out a lollipop, and stuck it in his mouth, his face red as he tried to save his ego:

“Psh, what do you guys know? This is what family men do.”

Honestly, I never really knew why Julian liked me.

He was 6'2", handsome, and wealthy.

But Julian didn't care. He said if he liked me, he fucking liked me.

He was incredibly stubborn. Once he set his mind on a path, he would walk it to the very end.

I saw that clearly the time he took me home to meet his parents on Christmas Eve.

I stood awkwardly in front of his parents, holding a modest fruit basket I had bought.

His parents hosted me with frigid politeness.

While the maid was clearing the dining table, his mother coughed lightly and gave Julian a look, gesturing for him to step aside to talk with her.

The chandelier in the villa was so blindingly bright it was almost harsher than the August sun, making me unable to lift my head. Its light cast a harsh glare on my worn-out puffer jacket and faded jeans.

And those were actually my best clothes.

I sat on the European-style sofa with my legs pressed tightly together, trying my best to shrink my presence.

The maids’ gazes drifted over me, accompanied by faint, muffled snickers that scraped against my pride like knives.

I heard his mother’s hysterical voice carrying from the other room:

“She definitely knows you have money, right?!”

“She has no parents! What can she possibly offer you in the future?!”

My heart felt like it was being brutally stomped on. It hurt so much I couldn't breathe.

My head dropped lower and lower. I pinched my arm hard, telling myself not to cry.

The next second, I heard the sound of Julian slamming a door.

His face was dark with anger as he stormed toward me. He grabbed my hand where I sat with my head bowed on the sofa:

“We’re leaving!”

“Julian Vance! If you walk out that door, don't ever call me your mother again!” her voice echoed from behind. “We won't give you a single cent!”

Hearing his mother’s threat, Julian’s steps faltered.

Before his mother could look smug, Julian turned back and snatched the fruit basket I had brought:

“You don't deserve this!”

It was Christmas Eve. The streets were practically empty of pedestrians and cars, and even the subway had stopped running.

We had no choice but to walk to a hotel.

As we crossed an overpass, the wind howled through my hair.

The quiet city was lit up with thousands of lights from homes celebrating the holiday, looking like a sea of stars in the distance.

But not a single one of those lights belonged to me.

I didn't turn around. I just kept my head down and said very, very softly:

“Julian, let’s break up.”

He didn't say a word.

“Julian, we—”

He unzipped his winter coat and wrapped his arms around me from behind, engulfing me entirely in his embrace.

He held me in silence, hugging me so tightly, as if afraid I would disappear if he let go even a little.

The silence dragged on. He buried his face in my neck, holding me for a very long time.

Suddenly, he spoke. His voice was soft, but incredibly firm:

“Lily, I’ll give you a home.”