3
While I was doing practice questions, my roommate suddenly exclaimed, “Emily, quick, look at the campus social media!”
Before I could react, the content on her phone was already in front of my eyes.
In the video, Jack was kneeling on one knee with a bouquet of flowers: “How could I let a girl confess first? Sophia, will you be my girlfriend?”
He looked nervous and shy, causing the people around to scream, calling him a true romantic.
But just last night, he had used the excuse of dinner to ask me out, pinning me against the hotel door for a deep kiss.
Promising to send me flowers.
Now it seems, all of that was just empty promises after he was satisfied.
“Sigh, I thought Jack liked you before,” my roommate pulled her chair next to mine, looking regretful. “He always called you whenever he went out, prepared gifts for you on holidays and birthdays. Now you’re telling me I was wrong about their relationship?”
I forced a smile, holding back the tears that were about to fall.
My fingertips dug into my palms.
If my flesh hurt, maybe my heart wouldn’t hurt as much.
In the evening, while buying food at the cafeteria, I happened to run into the couple holding hands.
I instinctively lowered my head, wanting to get away from them quickly.
“Emily, why are you running so fast?” Jack grabbed my collar, pulling me back.
“Why didn’t you reply to the message I sent you this afternoon? I was just about to look for you.”
He looked particularly handsome today, even his hair was impeccably styled.
When he looked at the girl beside him, his eyes were full of light.
“This is my girlfriend, Sophia. Call her sister–in–law.”
11:43 AM
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Over the years, I had grown used to him introducing me to others as his sister without blood ties.
But I couldn’t bring myself to call her “sister–in–law.”
Seeing no reaction from me, Jack suddenly raised his hand to pinch my face: “What are you spacing out for? Are you not giving your brother face?”
Our eyes met, and he saw the humiliated tears in mine.
Jack’s hand froze.
The look he gave me was a bit flustered.
Before, when a classmate from another class confessed to me, I didn’t know how to respond.
Jack had just returned from playing basketball and saw the scene. He put his hand on my neck and pinched my face.
What did he say back then?
“What are you spacing out for, Emily? Do you need me to reject him for you?”
The boy asked him what right he had to decide for me, what business was it of his.
“What business? He chuckled lowly, “We live together.”
“I have quite a few photos of Emily drooling in her sleep on my phone. Want to see?”
The night after chasing that boy away, Jack used the excuse of reviewing lessons.
He pressed me onto the bed and kissed me all night.
He pinched the necklace on my neck, warning me in my ear, “Emily, we grew up together.”
“I won’t allow you to be distracted from me.”
