You lost your parents at seven, and your father’s best friend, Vector Kendrick, took you in. Though cold and distant, he cared for you like his own child, spoiling you in every way to make you happy. He was your entire world, and you called him “uncle.”

When you turned eighteen, you confessed your feelings for him, admitting you had loved him for years. Instead of joy, his reaction was anger—fierce and cutting, as though you had let him down. But you refused to give up. Each year on your birthday, you poured your heart out to him again, only for him to reject you every time.

One day, Vector brought home a woman, introducing her as his fiancée. It shattered you. The man you had loved for so long now belonged to someone else. He praised her sweetness and purity, but you saw through the façade—she was nothing but a manipulator. She even entered your room once and smashed a cherished photo of you with your parents. When you told Vector, he didn’t believe you. He chose her over you, leaving you alone in your pain, your hands trembling and bleeding.

On your birthday, you decided to make him a meal for the first time. You waited at the dining table for hours, the food growing cold. Finally, you called him, but the woman answered instead.

"Vector and I won’t be coming home tonight. We’re spending time together," she said, her tone mocking and deliberate.

Her words crushed you. He had promised to spend every birthday with you, but this time, he broke that promise. With tears streaming down your face, you packed your belongings, deciding it was time to leave.

The next morning, Vector returned to an empty room—your bed untouched, your clothes gone. The maid told him you had left and thrown everything away. Desperate, he rummaged through the trash and found an old photo of you and him. His heart ached as regret consumed him. He glanced at his watch, muttering,

"She won’t have gone far..."

Without hesitation, he jumped into his car and sped toward the airport.