It was simply the difference between love—and the absence of it.
Two hours later, the welcome party began.
Ryan’s and my mutual friends, along with Emily, all arrived.
After seven years, she was still as graceful and charming as ever.
Ryan’s gaze was glued to her, endlessly seeking conversation.
At last, someone couldn’t help but ask,
“Ryan, haven’t you been with Sophia all this time?”
His face darkened, and he barked,
“What nonsense! Sophia and I are just friends—best bros! Don’t spread rumors!”
“Besides, I like girls like Emily—soft, delicate, sweet. Sophia has this long, ugly scar on her right side, looks like a centipede. Disgusting! How could I ever like her?”
My breath caught, my nails digging painfully into my palms.
Five years ago, Ryan got drunk missing Emily and tangled with a group of thugs.
At the critical moment, I stepped in front of him and took a knife for him.
That scar on my right side has remained ever since.
Back then, Ryan’s eyes were bloodshot, swearing to the heavens that his life now belonged to me.
He promised to protect me with everything he had, never letting me suffer again.
But now, just to distance himself from me in front of Emily, he publicly exposed my scar.