Chapter 2

Here it was again.

My explanations never got through to Chloe.

She constantly twisted my actions and distorted my intentions.

All I ever got in return were escalating accusations.

Even though I had done absolutely nothing wrong.

I pressed a hand to the corner of my bleeding lip and closed my eyes.

"Think whatever you want. You don't listen anyway. You only hear what you want to hear."

I thought she might quiet down and actually reflect on what I said.

After all, I had never spoken to her so coldly before.

Instead, she completely lost her mind.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she glared at me like I was some heartless cheater.

Then, she spun around and sprinted into the study.

I assumed she went to cool off.

A deafening crash echoed from the study.

Dread pooled in my stomach.

Panicking, I rushed toward the room just as a heavy black object came flying straight at my face.

My pupils shrank.

It was my camera.

I lunged forward, desperate to catch it before it hit the floor.

My foot caught on something, and I tripped.

A crisp, shattering smash followed, instantly drowned out by her manic, gloating laughter.

My camera was broken. And the culprit was standing right there, laughing with petty vengeance.

"You care so much about this piece of junk, don't you? I smashed it!"

"That's what you get for talking to other women behind my back!"

Chloe knew better than anyone how much that camera meant to me.

It was the only thing my parents had left behind when they died. It held every memory I had of them.

And she had shattered it without a second thought.

With an icy, expressionless face, I gathered up the broken pieces.

I carefully slipped them into my backpack and slung it over my shoulder.

I looked at Chloe. A flicker of guilt crossed her face, but her chin remained tilted up, far too proud to ever apologize. A bone-deep exhaustion washed over me.

Without the lens of love, the haughty little princess was nothing more than an unreasonable, spiteful tyrant.

Disappointed beyond words, I opened the front door, ready to leave this home.

My voice was cold as ice.

"We're over."

Chloe kicked the groceries I had brought home right at my feet, still acting like an arrogant queen.

"Fine, let's break up! Don't you dare ever come crawling back!"

With my backpack on, carrying my battered camera and my broken heart, I walked out of the place that had suffocated me for years.

I wandered the streets aimlessly.

In the early morning hours, the sidewalks were deserted. Only the glowing streetlights accompanied me down the empty road.

I felt moisture on my face. I looked up, but the sky was clear—no rain.

I pulled out my phone, only to realize that in this massive city, there wasn't a single person I could call to vent.

I had moved to this city entirely for Chloe.

I grew up overseas. My parents were conflict journalists who spent their lives living on the edge of danger.

I was raised by nannies, lacking companionship, which led me to fall in love with photography—an art that allowed me to capture the soul of the world.

Then, I met Chloe.

On an ordinary winter day, she melted my cold world like sudden sunlight.

Back then, she was wandering the streets alone, fearless and curious.

Later, I learned she was taking a solo trip abroad to clear her head after a bad breakup.

I couldn't help but follow her through the streets.

My eyes stayed glued to her, taking in every detail.

I worked up the courage to ask if I could take portraits of her. She laughed and said she had noticed me following her long ago.

That was how our journey together began.