The Lucky WinnerChapter 2

From childhood to adulthood, I’ve always been unlucky. As a child, a fortune-teller said my life would be full of hardship, and my family ties would be thin. At my tenth birthday party, I accidentally fell into the cake, creating my first memorable social faux pas. During my high school entrance exams, I suffered from severe menstrual cramps on the last day, performed poorly, and failed to get into my dream prep school. It seemed like every crucial moment in my life, I stumbled.

I didn’t inherit my mother’s striking beauty, nor my father’s sharp intellect. Back then, when people spoke of me, there was usually a prefix: "Ah, Rocky Boyce's childhood friend." Rocky’s name always shone brightly. We were childhood sweethearts, and our relationship was always strong. The day we announced our relationship caused quite a stir on social media. Besides personal factors, our families were old friends, a seemingly perfect match.

It wasn't until the year I graduated from college that I was exposed as a fake heiress. Two pregnant women had given birth at the same time, and a nurse's mistake led to the babies being switched. The real heiress and my biological parents had already died in a car accident. From that moment on, my world changed irrevocably.

My adoptive mother wept daily. In moments of emotional breakdown, she would blurt out, "Why wasn't it you who died?" My adoptive father would sigh whenever he saw me, gently suggesting I move out for a while. The gossip of neighbors, the strange looks from the household staff… everything weighed down on me, suffocating me.

At that time, my only solace was Rocky. He didn't scorn my identity, nor did he care about the rumors. He defended me several times in public. Stream after stream of valuable gifts were sent to me, as if to tell everyone that he still stood by me. I once chided him for being extravagant. But Rocky just held me, burying his head in the crook of my neck, nuzzling. "I don’t care. Let’s see who dares to speak ill of you now."

We were so young then. Naively believing that love could overcome all obstacles. Until the Boyce family began to exert pressure, forcing him to break up with me. Rocky had just graduated college then, and had little say. He was constantly busy during that period. He followed his family’s arrangements and entered the company, desperate to prove himself, to earn their approval and his freedom to marry whom he chose.

Several times, he would arrive late to our dates, looking utterly exhausted. I saw how tired he was, so during dinner, I tried every trick to cheer him up. But after I painstakingly concocted a joke and looked up, Rocky was already asleep in his chair across from me, exhausted.

Rocky got busier and busier. Our conversations became fewer and farther between. He still sent me good morning and good night texts, asking if I had eaten properly. But I started to grow silent. After being openly ridiculed and subtly insulted at another party, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I hid in the restroom and called him.

But after he answered, before I could even speak, I heard Rocky's tired but gentle voice. "What a coincidence, I was just about to call you." He said the project he was leading had finally signed the contract today. It was his first major project since joining the company, and he had worked overtime for a month straight for it. After the successful signing, his father praised him for the first time in a long while, and his mother finally softened her stance.

Noticing my prolonged silence, he suddenly paused. "What’s wrong? Did something happen?"

"Nothing…" I tried very, very hard to suppress the torrent of grievances. I had wanted to say that those people's words were truly awful. Those veiled, contemptuous glances felt like damp, heavy towels clinging to me, cold and suffocating. I wanted to say that I felt like I was losing the will to go on. But when I finally spoke, it was in a light, cheerful tone: "What could be wrong with me? I just miss you."

How could I burden him with my worries again? He was already working so hard to be with me. And I, I couldn't help him at all.

After that day, I refused all social engagements. For a time, I hated leaving the house. I started to fear other people’s stares. I drew all the curtains in the house. My appetite dwindled. In just two months, I lost over ten pounds.

By the time Rocky finally realized something was wrong and rushed to my house, pulling me out of bed, I suddenly remembered that we hadn't seen each other in over a week.

"Did you eat dinner?" Rocky asked me.

I thought about it. "No."

"Lunch?"

"...No."

"What about breakfast?"

Seeing me about to shake my head again, his face darkened. "When was the last time you ate?"

I struggled to remember. "I think… last night? Or maybe noon…" I really couldn't recall. Lately, my memory had been terrible. I’d forgotten to eat, forgotten to wash, forgotten to reply to Rocky's messages. Even though I just lay in bed doing nothing, I felt incredibly tired.

Rocky carried me to the bathroom and personally helped me wash up. Then he supervised me eating.

"Chew properly, don't just swallow."

But I was truly so tired. One meal took an hour to finish. After eating, I started to feel sleepy again. This time, Rocky didn't leave. He slept beside me. In a state between waking and sleeping, I felt him holding me, whispering in my ear, "Just give me a little more time…"

"I know you’re tired, but can you wait for me a little longer…?"

From that day on, Rocky moved into my house. The apartment, a two-bedroom, one-bath, wasn't large; I’d bought it in college. After Rocky arrived, my life began to regain its rhythm. Every day before work, he would prepare breakfast and lunch for me, making sure I ate on time. Every evening after work, he would rush back to have dinner with me, then drag me out for a walk. My physical condition visibly improved.

But Rocky grew more and more exhausted. Until one day, during a meeting, he collapsed from low blood sugar.

When I rushed to the hospital, Rocky’s mother was already there. When she saw me, her brow furrowed. I froze in place, awkward and helpless.

"Hello, Mrs. Boyce…"

She didn’t say anything unkind to me. She simply handed me a folder. Inside were profiles of potential marriage candidates she approved of, meticulously detailing their backgrounds and the family connections they could provide. She had, after all, watched me grow up, so she didn’t say anything too directly. But I understood her meaning.

What do you have?

I had nothing left.

While waiting for Rocky to wake up, I thought about many things. For example, the apartment I bought in college—would I lose money if I sold it now? For example, my adoptive parents had raised me for years. Although they were currently struggling with the loss of their biological daughter, would they be sad if I left? And then, Rocky had already made so much effort for me. If I were to break up with him now, would I seem heartless?

How… how would I even break up with him?

Time seemed to stretch endlessly in that moment.

By the time Rocky woke up, I had thought of everything. The first second his eyes opened and he saw me, before he could even offer a smile, I spoke.

"Rocky, let’s break up."