Chapter 2

From our teenage years to working as adults,

Zachary had countless admirers over the years.

And I was just the most unremarkable one among them all.

The only thing worth celebrating was that I was quite persistent.

In the seventh year of my secret love, I had at least become his ordinary friend.

For me, being friends was enough.

Someone as wonderful as Zachary deserved a goddess.

My best friend tried to persuade me:

"Olivia, are you stupid? Why waste your best years pining after just Zachary?"

But she didn't understand that falling for Zachary was the most natural thing in the world.

He accompanied me through dark alleys, and from then on I was no longer afraid of stray dogs barking on the street.

He got into fights with those who spread rumors about me, and after that no one in class dared call me "big boobs" or "cow" anymore.

He rented an apartment with heating for me, and from then on I no longer feared my father's fists.

There was no one in the world who treated me better than Zachary.

Later I would often secretly watch him play basketball in the hallway.

I loved the way he tilted his head back to drink water, loved how his sweat dripped down his neck and into his collar.

Love was like a raging fire, and I retreated step by step, until I was burned to ashes.

Only now do I understand that the fire in a boy's eyes is not a fixed star.

Those scars he got from fighting for me, the hand warmers he secretly slipped into my desk - they were just ashes falling as shooting stars burned out.

But in that moment, I truly felt like I had touched the moon.

My phone suddenly rang.

It was a call from Zachary.

I answered, and his voice came through, slurred with alcohol:

"Olivia, we agreed you'd come for my birthday today. Why aren't you here yet?"

"Everyone's waiting for you. If you don't come, my birthday won't be any fun."

The drunk man whined at me:

"And don't forget to bring the scarf you knitted for me."

"I don't care what anyone else gives me, I just want your gift."

I gave a bitter smile.

Knitting a scarf as a birthday gift for your boyfriend had become popular on TikTok.

At the time, Zachary had tagged me, strongly demanding that I knit one for him.

"Come on Olivia, please agree? You know how much I hate the cold."

What cold could a 6-foot-tall man possibly be afraid of?

I couldn't refuse him, and it took me three months to barely manage to knit something resembling a scarf.

I used to be best at handicrafts.

But it had been so long since I picked up knitting needles, my technique was rusty.

But he had forgotten - the video said this was for knitting a scarf for your boyfriend.

And Zachary and I were just ordinary friends.

I looked at the crooked, misshapen scarf in my hands.

"Zachary, I have something to do, so I won't be able to come celebrate your birthday."

"The scarf turned out really ugly, you probably wouldn't like it anyway. I'll just throw it away."

I hung up the phone.

I had no home, no family.

Back when we took the college entrance exams, I had scored over 30 points higher than him, but I willingly changed my major from fashion design to finance.

All these years, I had treated wherever Zachary was as my home.

But without love, this city was just too cold.

I bought a plane ticket to Paris on my phone.

Let's just say that $1500 bought out my seven years of youth.