Chapter 2

Yulia's POV

For the next few days, Adrian didn't come home, and I didn't ask. I stayed alone in the guest room, nursing my wounds.

I touched that photo, counting down the twenty-nine days remaining.

I decided to make one final effort for Adrian's birthday.

This might be my only hope to keep living.

Back then, he said he didn't like fuss, so our wedding was simple with only a few friends.

I thought he probably felt the same about birthdays, which is why he never mentioned it.

I was the only one maintaining this relationship.

He stood high above, coldly watching me sink deeper.

But now, I wanted to fight for myself one more time.

Despite the tearing pain in my wounds, I spent the entire day knitting, undoing the yarn twice, finally completing a gray scarf.

I dug out old photos and made a handmade album, filling each page with words I wanted to say to him.

After finishing, I gathered my courage and sent Adrian a message.

"Adrian, are you free tomorrow evening? Let's meet at our usual restaurant."

I gripped my phone, waiting nervously until the screen lit up.

Just a cold "Okay."

The next day, I arrived at the restaurant two hours early and set up the gifts and a small cake I'd made myself.

But Adrian was two full hours late.

When he pushed through the door and saw everything on the table, his expression immediately darkened.

"Who told you to meddle? Did you forget that after my family died, I stopped celebrating birthdays?"

As soon as he spoke, he expected me to cry and make a scene, since this was my surprise.

He had even prepared his response, but I just looked at him.

Adrian didn't give me a chance to explain. He took scissors from the server and, right in front of me, cut that scarf to shreds.

Gray yarn fragments scattered like snow, landing on me like a snowfall of despair.

I didn't dodge, just spoke with a trembling voice.

"Adrian, let's let each other go, okay? We can start over."

"Start over?"

He laughed coldly, grabbed my chin, his eyes bloodshot.

"That night of the accident, my parents, my sister, they died right in front of me! My grandfather couldn't take the shock and collapsed on the spot. We couldn't save him either! How can you tell me to let go? Yulia, tell me, how can I possibly let go!"

After that night, he seemed like a different person.

But I no longer had the energy to analyze his changes.

Just then, the restaurant door opened again.

Chloe walked in carrying a huge glass jar filled with colorful lucky stars.

"Adrian, happy birthday."

She placed the jar on the table, smiling sweetly.

"There are a thousand stars here. For each one you take out, you can make a wish to me."

Seeing this scene, hearing those words, both Adrian and I froze.

On my twentieth birthday, I had given him the exact same gift and said the exact same words.

He released me and pulled Chloe tightly into his arms, his voice hoarse.

"I love it so much, Chloe. I love this gift so much."

Chloe shot me a triumphant look.

In the past, seeing them so intimate would have made me cause a scene on the spot.

But now, I just glanced once before looking away, stroking the neglected album on the table.

My heart ached numbly.

What defeated me wasn't Chloe, but the version of myself at twenty that Adrian had deeply loved.

He utterly hated the me of now, yet had a sick obsession with the Yulia in his memories.

He gave all his tenderness to that substitute who looked like his Yulia.

I was the most unnecessary one.