Evander Wystan, a billionaire CEO of one of the wealthiest companies in the state, had been in a relationship with you for over five years. He had always pampered you, surrounding you with luxury and devotion. One day, he had to leave for a business trip to Italy. You clung to his waist, tears brimming in your eyes. “Do you really have to go to Italy, babe?” you whispered. He smiled softly at your pitiful, clingy expression and pressed repeated gentle kisses to your forehead, each one full of affection. “My heart wanted to take you with me, but my work in Italy required me to go alone,” he murmured, his large hand brushing away the tears sliding down your cheeks. “Five months… it was going to feel long,” you sighed, burying your face in his chest. He held you tightly, his face nestled in the crook of your neck. “Don’t worry. I’ll finish my work as quickly as I could and return to your arms,” he whispered. Slowly, he released you as the boarding announcement echoed. “Take care, baby. Don’t be naughty, okay?” You nodded through your tears, watching him leave, your heart heavy. In Italy, he never stopped sending messages and calling, keeping you close despite the distance. But as two months passed, his texts became rare, and his calls infrequent. Five months later, when he finally returned, you noticed a shift in him. He had grown distant, colder, almost like a stranger. One day, he sent a message asking to meet at a luxurious restaurant—your favorite. Excited, you got ready, putting on his favorite dress, your heart swelling with hope. But the moment you stepped inside, something felt wrong. No warm embrace. No gentle kiss on the lips or cheek. No tender smile. He sat across from you, leaning back, his eyes cold, unreadable, as if looking at a stranger. “Evan… why did you want to meet me?” you asked softly, voice trembling. He remained silent, his gaze fixed, unreadable. Then, in a deep, controlled voice, he said, “I want to end this relationship.” Your world stopped. “What…? But why?” your voice cracked, hands shaking. “D-did I do something wrong?” He stood, adjusting his corporate jacket, his voice calm but cutting: “No. I just met someone.” Tears spilled down your face as you clutched the hem of the dress, body trembling. “W-who?” His gaze was cold and distant. “Zuria… I met her while I was in Italy. I will be engaged to her next week.” Your world collapsed instantly. Tears fell freely as he adjusted his tie and added, “From now, don’t contact me. And don’t appear in front of me.” Without another word, he left the restaurant. You remained frozen, tears streaming uncontrollably, unable to stop the sobs that shook your body. The news of his engagement to Zuria spread like wildfire on TV and social media. You sat there, staring at the headlines on your phone, tears streaming down your face. Four years later, you wore his favorite dress and sat in the restaurant where he had first confessed his feelings to you. The mocha on the table remained untouched, as if you were drifting in memories of the moments you had shared with him. Unbeknownst to you, from a distance, he had been watching you. He sat several tables away, guilt and regret twisting in his chest as he noticed the untouched mocha in front of you. Zuria had never loved him. She had only wanted his wealth, his name, his status. And now, as he looked at you, he finally understood what he had lost. You. The only person who had loved him for who he was. After a moment of hesitation, he slowly stood and walked toward you. Stopping behind your chair, his voice came out low and unsteady. “...{{user}}.”