The Secret Relationship Ends TodayChapter 2

The moment he placed the ring on my finger, the old craftsman smiled and wished us eternal love, offering us a discount if we ever came back to his shop. But in the seven years that followed, we never once returned. I left the ring on the table.

I walked out without looking back. A few paparazzi were lurking outside the studio. Seeing me, they raised their phones and crowded around. “Hey, you’re the one from the live stream with the tattoo, right?” “Is that word real or fake? Let us see!” I didn’t stop, walking straight through them. Someone reached out to grab me, but I shook them off. “Pfft, who does she think she is, putting on airs.” “Got it, got it. It’s that girl. Just trying to grab headlines.” “Post it in the group chat, post it in the group chat.” I vanished into the night, the sound of camera shutters and laughter trailing behind me.

In the taxi, the driver eyed me several times in the rearview mirror. “Miss, should you go to the hospital for that hand? Looks like you’ve lost a lot of blood.” “No need.” “Where to, then?” I gave him an address. The driver paused. “That’s an old apartment complex, right?” “Yes.” I didn’t want to say more. The car turned into a side street, the streetlights growing dimmer and dimmer. Looking at the old building where I’d lived for five years, I scoffed. “Naomi Ryan, Naomi Ryan, if he really loved you, how could he bear for you to live here for five years?” I really was blind and foolish. I mocked myself inwardly. The stairwell light was out; I had to feel my way up. The apartment was dark, only faint light from the streetlights outside the window. I sat in the darkness, and my wrist started to ache again. I looked down at the red bleeding through the bandage. Suddenly, I remembered freshman year, Ryan kissing me by the athletic field. He said he loved only two things in this world: acting and Naomi Ryan. When did that passionate, earnest boy become the one to push me into hell?

This apartment was tiny, only 500 square feet. But things related to Ryan took up most of it. The magazine from his first photoshoot, with his first-ever autograph. The video from his first film promotion; I’d filmed almost every costume fitting. His first birthday celebration on set, his face smeared with frosting, his eyes crinkling in a smile. The award from his first time on an awards stage… I suddenly stood up and started to clear things out. Even the hoodie he’d left here years ago. Used mugs. Books he’d bought. His old scripts. All of it went into a trash bag. The bag filled, so I grabbed another. The room grew emptier and emptier. At 3 AM, I hauled seven trash bags downstairs. The trash bins couldn’t hold it all, so I piled them next to the bins. Just like those past memories. They should have been thrown out a long time ago.

Back home, I started packing my luggage. Soon, all my belongings fit into one suitcase. I let out a soft, ironic laugh. This was my decade.

The next morning at 9 AM, I went to the company to submit my resignation. Lisa, the HR director, and I had always been on good terms. Lisa sat behind her desk, motioning for me to sit down. She tapped the documents in front of her. “About your resignation, the company has considered it. It’s not approved.” “Why?” “Your contract states that resignation requires a one-month advance notice and the department head’s signature.” She finally looked up at me. “Ryan hasn’t signed off, so the process can’t proceed.” I lowered my eyes, staring at a crack on the table. “Lisa, I don’t need any compensation from the company, just my resignation.” She smiled, then stood up and patted my shoulder.