The day I decided to end my life, I couldn't help but call Adrian Shepherd.
He said, Yvonne, the biggest regret of my life was ever meeting you! Do us all a favor and just die already!
The call ended.
I laughed at my own foolish hope, thinking I might get even a shred of comfort from him.
From the day Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd died in a car accident on their way to my commencement ceremony, my dear Adrian was gone forever.
Out of sheer despair, I slit my wrists.
I didn't die.
Instead, I became a somewhat well-known rising artist.
Later, the truth behind the Shepherds' accident came out, and Adrian begged me frantically for forgiveness.
...
The day my painting won an global award, Kyle was overjoyed.
He had invited almost everyone from Seattle's art scene to celebrate for me.
While hiding in the corridor, I saw Adrian.
He was surrounded by a bunch of people.
Most were former students of Ms. John, all now fairly established in Seattle's art circles.
"Hey, doesn anyone think the lady of the hour, Mrs. Grant, kinda looks like Yvonne?" said an former acquaintance.
His words were barely out before someone next to elbowed him.
But the atmosphere had already visibly chilled.
Adrian's face darkened. "Haven't I said it before? Don't ever mention that name at any occasion I'm present."
Someone quickly chimed in, "Yeah, yeah, Mark has no tact, don't mind him. A bitch like Yvonne couldn't marry you even in a thousand lifetimes , let alone win some international award."
"Absolutely! Only our Chloe stood by you, Adrian, even when you were down and out."
"That woman Yvonne isn't even fit to be compared to Chloe," Adrian sneered.
Adrian smiled, looking down tenderly at Chloe Lynn, who was holding his arm. The affection in his eyes was plain to see.
"Yeah, I really owe everything these past years to Chloe. I, Adrian Shepherd, only love Chloe Lynn in my life. I will treat her well, always."
He spoke with so much emotion, his eyes even glistening slightly.
I couldn't help but let out a scornful laugh.
Adrian probably never known that all those meals Chloe supposedly brought to him were actually cooked by me. I'd rushed to use the first free stove in a cramped, shared kitchen in a poor neighborhood, often in freezing weather just a few degrees above zero.
The investment that saved his company was something I almost traded my own well-being for.
Back then, he hated my guts because of his parents' death.
I was too scared to show my face, but I was terrified he would work himself into ruin.
I could only beg Chloe, plead with her to help me deliver meals to Adrian.
Once, I slipped and fell on the bus, covered in mud. When I pulled the intact lunchbox from my backpack, Chloe looked at me like I was trash.
She said, "Yvonne, are you just born a masochist? After all Adrian's done to you, you still grovel and degrade yourself?"
I just stood there numb, handed her the lunchbox, and thanked her emptily.
"You know, he was so touched hearing I got up before dawn to cook for him. It almost made me feel bad keeping up the lie."
"What if I told him all these meals were made by you? Think he'd puke up everything he's eaten these past days?"
That got a reaction out of me. "What do you want?".
She laughed. "Look at you, scrimping so much you won't even take the bus. You must have saved up a bit. I'm not like you, I'm used to proper upkeep. Tell you what, give me a thousand, and I'll keep delivering your meals. Sound good?"