Open Marriage, Broken Promises: When Love Turns to Ashes novel Chapter 64

A wistful look crossed his face. "Actually, you might not remember, but I've known you since my freshman year."

"Elena."

He looked at me intently as he said my name, his voice lingering on the last syllable.

I stared at him, but there was nothing—no memory of him at all.

Just as the moment lingered, a sudden phone call broke the atmosphere.

"Sorry, I have something I need to take care of."

"Can we exchange contact info?" he asked.

Looking into his damp eyes, I couldn't bring myself to say no.

After we exchanged numbers, he left.

I glanced at the bagel that had gone cold and suddenly lost my appetite.

I was about to tidy up the room when I noticed everything had already been cleaned and arranged neatly. I had just woken up, so it couldn't have been the housekeeping service.

It was Ryan.

I couldn't help but chuckle when I thought about how this famous genius young master would do these things.

That smile reminded me of Jason.

During those seven years, before Jason became a big name, I was the one who enjoyed being pampered and taken care of.

But as his career took off, countless social events kept him coming home later and later. And I, little by little, started learning how to take care of him.

Those years, when the lightbulb broke, I changed it myself. When the pipes burst, I fixed them myself. Even when I got hit by a bike and had to go to the hospital, I was on my own.

And what was he doing at that time?

He was busy creating, traveling around the country with his junior sister to find inspiration.

Looking back, I even made excuses for him. I told myself to wait a little longer; he hadn't changed. He was still that young man, promising me happiness in a leaking rental.

But promises fade, and people change.

Jason came home later and later, until eventually, he didn't come home at all.

I kept deceiving myself, making excuses for him. Maybe he's just busy with work? Maybe he's exhausted too?

I wasn't young anymore. Every time I brought up marriage, he would say, "Wait a little longer."

Year after year.

When I finally mustered the courage to put on a wedding dress and wanted to have an answer with him, he reached out to someone else.

I loved Jason so much that I lost myself.

How could someone like me ever expect him to treat me sincerely?

I thought things with Ryan were over, but that evening, he knocked on my door again.

If last time was because of alcohol, this time we were both sober.

From the doorway, we were tangled up all the way to the bathroom.

Drunk, Jason didn't even look at Fu Ling. He just stared at the painting in the center of the room.

The painting was called The Only One—a piece Jason had given to Elena when she was 23, and he was 25.

"Get a grip," Grace urged.

"Jason!" Grace sneered, opened her phone, and held up a photo in front of him.

"Take a good look. The Elena you've been pining for has been with someone else for a long time."

Jason glanced up, and suddenly, much of the alcohol left his system.

It was a blurry photo, taken from a distance. But he could immediately tell it was Elena. She was walking alongside a tall man.

There was no intimate gesture between them, but the smile on Elena's lips stabbed at his heart.

Once upon a time, that smile had only ever been for him.

Jason suddenly grabbed a beer bottle and threw it at The Only One.

Glass shattered everywhere, and Grace screamed, noticing a bloody gash on his arm.

She rushed to him, "Jason..."

"You're bleeding. Let me take you to the hospital."

But Jason ignored her, continuing to throw bottle after bottle at the painting.

Until the frame cracked and fell to the ground with a loud crash.