Chapter 1The Cold Companion

My boyfriend of many years suffers from a severe emotional processing disorder.

When a career-ending injury forced me to retire and I was being cyberbullied into a deep depression, I begged him for comfort.

He just said I had a weak mentality and was whining over nothing.

When the dog we raised together for four years was poisoned and died, he nonchalantly said we could just get another one.

Even when my grandmother was in the ICU, on her deathbed, and all she wanted was to hear him promise he would never betray me, he refused, claiming he couldn't say "cringey things."

I thought that with enough patience and guidance, his emotions would one day normalize. I endured his coldness every day, using my own pain to try and fill the void in his heart.

Until the team's new substitute player, a girl, held a funeral for a withered peach tree in the yard, crying her heart out.

For the first time, I saw pity in his eyes. He awkwardly wiped away her tears.

"Don't cry. I'll plant you a hundred more, okay?"

A video of this was posted online. Even my own fans commented that this new girl, Nina, was his cure, his emotional awakening.

He didn't deny it. He just silently liked the post.

At that moment, I remembered how earlier that day, my fingernail had split, the pain so sharp it made me tremble and feel nauseous. I remembered his cold, distant expression.

And suddenly, I was just so tired.

* * *

I stared at the men's suit, half-fitted and now abandoned on the sofa of the bridal shop.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

Ten minutes ago, Nina had called him in a panic. She said her grandmother, who had dementia, had fallen and was refusing to go to the hospital unless her "grandson-in-law" came to get her.

He told me they were childhood sweethearts, and he couldn't refuse to help.

And just like that, he abandoned me—me, who had postponed two important meetings to be here with him, trying on wedding attire. He threw a "don't be unreasonable" over his shoulder and rushed out.

I had wanted to ask him: why does someone else's sick grandmother deserve him playing the role of a devoted grandson-in-law, while my own grandmother couldn't even get a simple promise from her granddaughter's actual fiancé on her deathbed?

But then I saw the photo. The one his haters used to mock me for being delusional, for trying to compete with a childhood love. In it, a younger Griffin Shaw and Nina were holding hands, their hands joined by the old woman as if in a sacred pact. Everything became clear.

In the photo, his youthful face was full of tenderness, a clear dimple visible when he smiled. It was a smile I had never seen in the few pictures we had together.

Through scattered gossip, I pieced it all together. His emotional detachment had started the year Nina left without a word to care for her ailing grandmother. The reason he was so determined to expand his investments in the esports world wasn't because of me and my team. It was to pave the way for Nina, who loved gaming but had been away from the scene for too long.

A lump formed in my throat, making it hard to breathe.

"Ma'am, are you… alright?"

A store clerk knelt before me, offering a tissue. Only then did I realize tears were streaming down my face.

I took the tissue with a quiet thank you.

She smiled gently, her eyes shifting to the blood-soaked gauze on my finger.

"Would you like me to re-bandage that for you?"

The wound had split open again when I tried to stop Griffin from leaving and he'd flung my hand away, slamming it against a cabinet. This morning, he'd said bandaging it would waste time and make them late for the tree's "funeral," so he left first. Afraid of being late and seeming disrespectful, I had hastily wrapped it in gauze and a band-aid and rushed over.

When I arrived, he was laughing and chatting with Nina, carefully pruning the tree's branches one by one. The moment he saw me, he shoved a pair of shears into my hand and told me to help. The sharp metal pressed cruelly against my wound, and I dropped them with a cry of pain.

He’d frowned, annoyed that I had become so "melodramatic" just because of an injury. Yet he knew perfectly well that an esports player's hands were their livelihood. The very first day Nina joined the team, he had taken out two expensive insurance policies on her hands.

I swallowed the bitterness and shook my head.

As I turned to leave, the clerk called out to me. "Should I reschedule your fitting?"

The wound throbbed. The photos on my phone felt like daggers in my eyes.

"No, that won't be necessary."