Chapter 1

Tags: Cheating Scumbag, Awakening, Breaking Up & Collecting Debts, Career Comeback

I spent five years with Julian.

From the time I was twenty-two until I turned twenty-seven, I ate cheap instant ramen with hot sauce beside him, lived in a windowless basement apartment, and never even dared to ask for a single bouquet of flowers.

He always said, "Once we save enough for a down payment on a house, we’ll get married."

I believed him.

Yet every year when we got close to our target, an emergency would magically appear:

His uncle got into a car crash and needed settlement money.

His mother was diagnosed with severe diabetes and had to be hospitalized.

His childhood friend's startup went under and needed emergency cash.

I handed my paychecks over to him to manage, never once questioning where the money went.

Until my twenty-seventh birthday. I left work early to surprise him, only to overhear him talking on the phone with his buddy right outside his office:

"I’ll move on once Serena gets married. I just need to see her in a wedding dress to finally let it go."

"Chloe? Oh, she's easy to manage."

"She’s been with me for five years. Where else is she gonna go?"

"I already bought the ring for Serena. Spent twenty-five grand. The jewelry store threw in a free diamond pendant necklace as a promo gift. I'll just give it to Chloe tonight for her birthday. That’ll keep her happy."

I turned around in silence.

My dad was right all along. If a man makes you wait five years, it isn't because he can't afford a house. It's because he never planned to build a home with you.

I wasn't going to wait around for year six.

Five years ago, fresh out of college, I was drafting blueprints at an interior design firm, while Julian worked as a site supervisor on the construction lot next door.

Back then, he was tanned, scruffy, and ate takeout lunches while crouching on the curb every single day.

The first time I noticed him, he was handing his grilled chicken over to an elderly homeless woman collecting bottles near the site.

I thought he was a kind, gentle soul.

When he started courting me, he wouldn't even buy flowers. Instead, he left a two-dollar strawberry milk on my desk every single morning.

He did it for a whole month.

My coworkers laughed behind his back, calling him a cheapskate.

Yet with my head deep in love, I told myself that genuine thought mattered more than money.

I thought he was down-to-earth, unlike those smooth-talking guys.

My dad disapproved. He warned me that construction men bounced around jobs and lacked stability, telling me to find someone with an office career.

I had a screaming match with my dad, packed my bags, and moved straight into the basement apartment Julian was renting.

There were no windows. Black mold crept along the walls, and the sheets were perpetually damp.

I slept on one side, he slept on the other, separated by a wobbly folding table we scored at a flea market.

He would hold me and say, "Chloe, I’m so sorry you have to go through this."

I smiled and replied, "I don't mind. We just need to save our money, and once we buy our place, everything will be fine."

That year, he made project manager, and I landed a job at a prestigious design studio.

Every time I brought up marriage, he urged me to wait. "We're just a little short on the down payment."

That "wait" stretched into five long years.

Whenever I walked past real estate agencies, I would stop in front of their glass windows, staring at the listings.

I’d calculate in my head how much more we needed for our down payment.

In reality, two years ago, we had already saved eighty thousand dollars—more than enough for a down payment on a cozy two-bedroom starter home.

Julian insisted he wanted to give me something better.

"Let’s save a bit more. Once we hit a hundred thousand, we can buy a spacious place in a better neighborhood."

Then, his uncle allegedly hit a pedestrian, and Julian pulled out twenty-five grand.

Then came his mother's diabetes complications, draining another ten grand.

Soon after, his childhood friend ran out of cash flow, borrowing eight thousand more.

Our hundred-thousand-dollar fund withered away to thirty thousand.

He told me not to worry. He swore he’d hustle harder, promising we would reach the goal next year.

And once again, I believed him.

Looking back now, that twenty-five grand bought Serena's diamond ring.

And those other withdrawals? God only knew what luxury gifts he showered upon her.

I didn't even dare to dwell on it.

I went back to the basement, opened my laptop, and pulled up my CAD design software.

It was the interior layout for our future home.

I had spent an entire month perfecting it.

It was based on the floor plan of the suburban community we both adored.

The master bedroom faced south, featuring a massive bay window where we could sit and soak up the sun.

The secondary bedroom was designed as a nursery, its walls washed in a warm butter-yellow.

An open-concept kitchen, because he once claimed he loved watching me cook.

And an entire accent wall in the living room reserved for framing our photos from the day we met until now.

None of it mattered anymore.

I hovered my mouse over the file and hit delete.

The prompt popped up: *Are you sure you want to permanently delete this file?*

I clicked *Yes*.