CHAPTER 1: CHAPTER 1: SEVEN YEARS TOGETHER, FOUR YEARS OF CHEATING

When she was eighteen, I sat in the last row of the university auditorium and watched her tiptoe to write her future dreams on the freshman wall.

When she was twenty-one, I sat in the café she frequented, watching her rush into another man’s embrace with a bouquet of flowers.

This year at twenty-seven, I personally sent the video of her fiancé’s infidelity to her email, watching her crash into my arms with reddened eyes in the bridal shop.

It’s okay that she loved someone else.

It’s okay that she forgot about me too.

After ten years of planning, she will eventually only be my wife.

———

When Holly discovered Zion Pence’s infidelity, she was using his phone to respond to work messages.

A slip of the finger accidentally touched a hidden icon, and the screen instantly switched to a wallpaper of Zion Pence sharing an intimate photo with another woman.

This woman, Holly was not unfamiliar with; it was Mia Chapelle, who had been transferred to the general office three months ago.

In the photo, Zion Pence kissed the woman’s forehead with such devotion, such tenderness.

For seven years of dating, he generously gave her the phone password and casually said, "Check it if you want," turns out it was because the phone had a dual system.

Holly, with trembling hands, flipped through the chat logs. The two’s earliest messages dated back four years, and the latest was half an hour ago:

Mia Chapelle: [Honey, who do you think looks better in a wedding dress, her or me in a red dress?]

Zion Pence: [Wear the red dress for me tonight.]

Mia Chapelle: [Hmph, I won’t wear it for you, this is your punishment for kissing that old woman this morning.]

Zion Pence: [Why compare yourself to her? She always has a stern face, she’s dull and boring, anyone would cool down upon seeing her, otherwise why wouldn’t I have touched her once in seven years.]

Mia Chapelle: [Sweet talker, then tomorrow you’re not allowed to accompany her to try on wedding dresses!]

Zion Pence: [Whatever you say.]

Holly Crowe’s vision blurred for a moment, the sentences on the screen seemed to transform into grotesque characters, choking her throat.

The cold porridge she had in the morning churned in her stomach, continuously rising upwards.

"Old woman..."

"Dull and boring..."

"Didn’t touch her once in seven years..."

Each word was like a sharp knife stabbing fiercely at her heart, cruelly twisting and cutting out her heart...

Holly found her nose sour and stinging; weren’t they about to get married soon...

Five years ago, right after her graduation, Zion Pence had taken her to the company.

At the time, he kissed her fingertips and said, "Holly, the company is just starting, first be my secretary, once stabilized, you can continue to create, this way we can be together every day."

At that time, Holly had just graduated from the ceramic arts department, with still not dried clay on her skirts, yet she nodded without hesitation.

But she waited for five years.

For five years, she put away all her bright dresses, wore dull black professional suits, tied her long hair into a meticulous bun.

She learned to deflect alcohol at business dinners, learned to read the faces of partners, learned to swallow grievances, all for the sake of, "Holly, you won’t disappoint me."

Finally, she became the "professional" secretary in everyone’s eyes.

Yet, also became what he called "dull and boring" accessory.

Thinking her dedication would earn Zion Pence’s appreciation, thinking she would soon walk into the palace of marriage and find happiness, but in his eyes, she was merely a dull and boring old woman...

From age 20 to 27, from sophomore year to the workplace, what she thought was seven years of deep affection turned out to be a joke hidden under the dual system.

Seven years... the most beautiful seven years...

Yet, Zion Pence’s few words pinned them in disgrace on the pillar of shame.

"Secretary Crowe?"

Footsteps approached from afar to near.

Holly swiped up to exit all the backgrounds and immediately switched back to the original system.

She turned around, Zion Pence, surrounded by several managers, approached her, and when he got close, he said a few words with those beside him, and everyone dispersed.

Holly clutched the phone tightly, her fingers turning white from the force.

"Something?"

"Yeah."

"Come in and talk."

The two entered the office, Zion Pence closed the door, his hand settled down.

"What’s wrong? You don’t look well."

Holly moved away from his touch without revealing anything, looking up at him.

The man, in a well-tailored suit, smiled with tender eyes, still the same gentle appearance.

How ironic!

He had been flirting with Mia Chapelle half an hour ago on the phone, yet now could still maintain his composure, talking and laughing ambiguously with her.

Holly let out a soft breath, striving to keep her voice natural, "Your phone, I just helped you reply to a few work messages."

Zion Pence: "That’s all? The company has been a bit busy lately. Once we get through this time, I’ll take you on a vacation, how about that."

He walked closer, naturally reaching out to take the phone, his fingers brushing her hand back inadvertently, with a certain intimacy implied.

Holly’s stomach churned, almost making her vomit on the spot.

She forced it down, her lips pulling into a rigid line: "Aren’t you going to check? Not afraid I peeked at your little secrets?"

Zion Pence chuckled softly, his eyes fondly: "Holly, I’ve already said, as long as you want, you can check my phone freely."

Freely check?

Holly stared into his eyes, feeling it utterly absurd!

How could he be so shameless?

How could he still act like he’s deeply in love after betraying her?

It’s downright shameless, disgusting!

Holly could barely restrain from slapping him right now, questioning if he even had a heart!

Seeing her silent, Zion Pence reached to embrace her waist, leaning to kiss down.

Holly sharply turned aside, nails digging into her palm hard, borrowing the pain to barely keep calm.

"At five tomorrow afternoon, we need to go try on wedding dresses, don’t forget." Holly could hear her own voice, with a barely noticeable tremor.

Zion Pence’s expression stiffened momentarily, quickly smiling, "Of course I won’t forget. Just that there’s something to handle tomorrow, you go try the dress first, I’ll come over soon."

Finishing, he added in particular, "Isn’t there a saying lately called the first look, I want to save your most beautiful side for the wedding."

Holly stared at his face, trying to find a hint of guilt.

But, do all cheating men feel justified to lie?

She asked softly, "But Zion, what could possibly be more important than our wedding?"

Zion.

The appellation she hadn’t called out in a long time.

Over five years, an invisible chasm seemed to have grown between them.

She called him "President Pence," he called her "Secretary Crowe." Only in the rare times he needed her, did Zion Pence affectionately call her "Holly," like before.

A flicker of hesitation flashed in Zion Pence’s eyes.

Yet soon, his face turned cold, his tone indifferent: "You can handle projects worth tens of millions, it’s just a wedding after all, Holly, you won’t disappoint me right?"

—— "Holly, you won’t disappoint me."

This phrase was like a loud slap, harshly landing on Holly’s face.

"Holly, I need you."

"Holly, you won’t disappoint me."

"Holly, can’t you stop being so dull all the time?"

"Holly, can’t you learn from others, be a little more gentle?"

"Holly...."

Every word of belittlement and denial from the past five years exploded in her mind.

Holly’s eyes brimmed with red, her heart ached intensely.

What on earth was she still hoping for?

Hoping he’d return to the right path? Or hoping he’d come to his senses?

Holly felt like she was now playing the fool, a pathetic clown deceiving herself.

"Of course, President Pence, I won’t let you down."

"Okay. If there’s nothing else, you may leave."

Holly gave a light nod, turned and left, her footsteps felt like treading on clouds, clutching the doorknob stopped her from showing weakness.

Rushing into the bathroom, Holly bent over and retched.

The cold porridge from this morning mixed with gastric acid surged up her throat, burning her esophagus, both sour and painful...

She gripped the edge of the sink tightly, raised her hand to the mirror.

The woman in the mirror was pale, the dark circles she’d hidden with foundation before leaving reemerged, her black professional attire made her look like a soulless shell.

This was her.

The dull and boring old woman in Zion Pence’s mouth...

"Holly, how did you end up like this?"

The phone vibrated, it was a confirmation message from the bridal shop.

Holly replied: [I’ll be there on time tomorrow.]

She reached up to undo the bun, unbuttoning the top buttons of her shirt one by one, revealing her slender collarbones, feeling like she had rid of some restraints, gasping for air...

Five years, it was the first time she violated Zion Pence’s so-called "professional requirements."