Chapter 1

It was Children's Day, and I went over to my childhood friend’s house for dinner.

After a few polite exchanges, his mother suddenly sighed. "You two were so close when you were little. How did you end up with no spark at all as you grew up?"

Luke gave a faint smile. "Maybe it wasn't meant to be."

I smiled back. "Exactly. He's just not in my destiny."

The moment I said it, Luke's expression darkened.

As soon as the door closed, Luke pinned me against the wall, lifting my chin with a narrowed gaze.

"Ginger, tell me, what does it mean to say I'm not in your destiny?"

...

Luke’s breath brushed against my ear.

Yet, I felt no intimacy, only a tightening in my chest, and my tone grew flat.

"Luke, your mother is right outside. Don't let her misunderstand."

Luke gave a cold scoff, leaning in closer, his long, narrow eyes staring intently at me. "And what exactly would count as a misunderstanding?"

My fingers curled inward, but I pushed him away with force, taking a step to the side.

"Don't forget, we broke up a month ago."

He froze, his deep eyes fixed on me, motionless for a long time.

I seized the chance to slip past his arm.

The room fell into silence.

For the rest of the time, neither of us said a word.

Having spent three years in an underground relationship with Luke, this was the only chemistry we had left.

Yet, when I used the threat of a breakup to force him to go public that day, he didn't fall into his usual silence.

I had waited for him at the street corner until two in the morning. He arrived drunk, with lipstick on his collar.

I handed him my phone, displaying a post I had drafted for my social media.

"Either go public, or we break up."

Luke looked at me and chose the latter without a moment's hesitation.

"I don't care. I’m not short of people chasing me, anyway."

He leaned against the wall, his tone as casual as if he were commenting on the weather.

"As for you, once you leave me, who would even look at you twice?"

Even now, I can't recall what expression Luke had that day.

I only remember that after saying that, he answered a call from a junior named Luna, his voice instantly softening, dropping to a whisper.

Then he left, without looking back once.

I wasn't surprised, though.

After all, during my four years at university, I had written 47 love letters for him, each one signed with someone else's name.

Luna was just one of them.

His friend mocked me, "Ginger, how did you fail to even get a serious look from him?"

I tore at a piece of bread and laughed. "Well, I’m just a free ghostwriter at best."

Later, on graduation day, I gathered my courage and tucked a confession letter into his drawer.

It was for my own sake—to help me give up.

Luke took one look and tossed it into the trash. "The handwriting is too ugly. Don't write anymore."

And yet, that same day, he lost a game of "truth or dare" at a party.

As punishment, he had to kiss a woman on the spot.

He raised his hand, sweeping clockwise like a judge, and stopped right at me.

After the kiss, he leaned into my ear and whispered, "Ginger, let's give it a try."

Just like that, after graduation, we began a three-year underground relationship, which ended a month ago.

Pulling my thoughts back to the present, my gaze drifted past Luke's shoulder to the bookshelf.

On the top shelf, there was a stack of envelopes—all the letters I had written that he never sent.

They were tied with a pink ribbon; the knot wasn't tied well and hung lopsided.

Back then, Luke found them cluttered and told me to organize them so they wouldn't mess up his desk.

I was obedient then. Looking at them now, I felt no resentment, nor any irony.

I only recalled that the stationery shop by the school gate had already been demolished.

The owner used to ask me, "Little girl, writing letters again?"

I would nod, blushing.

Thinking back, there was nothing to blush about. People are bound to do a few worthless, foolish things.

I retracted my gaze and turned to walk out.

As I reached the door, Luke pulled me back from behind.

His palm was searingly hot. When he gripped my wrist, a small shiver of numbness prickled across my skin.

"Ginger!" his mother called out from the living room. "Luke, Luna is here!"

Luke’s fingers tightened, but he didn't let go immediately.

Outside the door came the soft sound of heels, followed by Luna's voice, sweet and bright.

"Mrs. Lu, am I here too early?"

His mother laughed. "Not at all, not at all. Just in time for dinner."

Only then did Luke loosen his grip. He looked at me, his tone deepening.

"You wait here. Don't say anything unnecessary."

Before, if he had looked at me like that, I would have felt sad, worrying about causing him trouble.

But not anymore. I pulled my hand away.

"Luke." For the first time, I called him by his full name with such calm.

"Don't worry. I have no interest in bringing up us, and I won't mention the past."

His eyes shifted slightly.

I added, "I'm just here for a meal."

Chapter 2

Luke had nothing to say.

I didn't linger for a second, let alone wait for him to collect himself, and pushed the door open to walk out.

In the living room, Luna stood in the center.

She was wearing a light-colored dress and carrying a box of pastries. The smile on her face froze the moment she saw me.

I looked indifferent and nodded at her calmly.

"Hello." My voice was so calm that even I was surprised.

I walked straight toward the kitchen.

Behind me, the sound of the door opening gently followed, and Luke stepped out right after.

Luna's gaze was sharp, darting back and forth between him and me.

I didn't care at all. I calmly opened the cupboard, took out bowls and chopsticks, and laid them on the table in a leisurely manner.

Luna spoke softly, her tone carrying a bit of deliberate testing: "Ginger, you seem a little too familiar with this place."

Before I could respond, Luke spoke up first.

"She used to cling to me, refusing to leave. How could she not be familiar with it after all this time?"

His tone was casual, yet carried a piercing coldness.

As soon as he finished, his mother immediately cast a stern look at him.

Luke lowered his eyes slightly and sullenly kept quiet.

I gripped the wooden chopsticks in my hand tightly, a faint bitterness spreading in my heart, but there was no anger or sense of grievance.

I just treated that mocking remark as irrelevant noise.

Actually, this wasn't the first time Luke had embarrassed me in public.

It wasn't that I was used to it; it was just that my heart had turned so cold that I no longer cared.

Luna took the opportunity to sit down next to Luke.

I walked straight to the other end of the dining table and chose the seat furthest from him.

As soon as I sat down, his mother was about to comfort me.

But she was interrupted by Luke's cold voice: "Mom, leave her be."

The words "leave her be" were neither light nor heavy, but the air at the dinner table went silent for a moment.

I lowered my eyes and gave a faint smile: "Ma'am, he's right. I'm just here for a free meal, it doesn't matter where I sit."

Hearing this, Luke's brows furrowed imperceptibly.

The atmosphere became a bit awkward, so Luna took out the gift she had prepared to break the tension.

She handed the gifts one by one to his mother and Luke.

Then she turned to look at me, her eyes filled with just the right amount of apology.

"I just thought this was a small, private gathering for family, and didn't expect you to be here too, so I didn't prepare a portion for you. I'm truly sorry."

I didn't care at all: "It's fine."

As she spoke, his mother placed a piece of food in Luna's bowl and continued.

"Ginger used to be so attached to Luke when she was little, never leaving his side on the way to or from school. One year on Children's Day, she even insisted on fighting to take a photo with him, saying it was a wedding portrait."

Luna laughed along with his mother, curiously tilting her head to look at the person beside her: "Luke, do you still have that photo?"

"Threw it away long ago." Luke didn't look up, his tone flat and cold.

My hands didn't stop with the chopsticks; I took a piece of braised pork into my mouth. After chewing it carefully, my tone remained peaceful as always.