Since childhood, I've always been Ryan's bootlicker.

Before we went to college, we were never apart for more than three days.

Because of this cold war between us, he didn't contact me at all for ten whole days.

Clutching my phone, I struggled to hold back my tears. But I eventually gave in, sending him a lengthy message asking to reconcile.

"Please don't ignore me, alright? I admit I was wrong. I really do like you a lot."

For two agonizing minutes, I watched as the message showed he was typing.

My hands trembled.

I braced myself for his response, almost scared of what it might be.

Finally, he mentioned my name. "Donna?"

I responded swiftly. "Yes."

He paused for what felt like forever. "Do you really like me?"

My heart was weighed down, and I couldn't understand why he'd pose such an obvious question.

He was likely mocking me intentionally.

Sarcasm had forever been his go-to whenever I pleaded for us to reconcile.

As always, he'd probably laugh at my inability to endure more than ten days of silence before returning to him, eager for forgiveness.

He would force me to repeatedly express how much I liked him.

Then, he'd create a list of punishments that I had to go through one by one to reconcile with him.

Each time, he would torment me until I was exhausted.

But what choice did I have? I've struggled with separation anxiety since childhood.

After my mom passed away in a car accident, I ended up living with just my dad.

Eventually, I had a stepmother.

Whenever things didn't go well for them, they found satisfaction in abusing me at home.

They didn't give me food and intentionally burned me with extremely hot objects.

They'd starve me. I was smaller compared to other children my age.

Even during the winter, they made me wear thin clothes and locked me outside by myself.

One time, the situation was so dire that I nearly died.

It was Ryan who took me to the hospital.

Whenever I had nightmares, he would hold my hand and remain by my side.

He was the only son of the Patterson Group's chairman. My dad was merely the least important employee at their company.

With Ryan around, my dad and stepmother didn't dare to mistreat me.

From that point forward, I stayed close to him.

Whenever my dad came home, I would quickly gather my belongings and head straight to Ryan's house.

Relying on him had nearly become second nature to me.

Ryan liked to tease me. He would intentionally toss my cherished rabbit doll far off and then rest his chin in his hands, watching intently as I retrieved it.

He liked calling me Donnie—the same name as the Alaskan dog he once had.

I realized that to him, I was more akin to a pet or maybe a plaything.

But, I couldn't bring myself to leave him.

I responded with care. "You certainly know better than anyone how long I've had feelings for you."

Then, I anxiously held onto my phone, waiting for his response.

There was a lengthy silence before he finally replied. "Sorry, this is the first time I'm hearing this.

"Thank you for liking me.

"In fact, I like you too. Very, very much."

I stood still, nearly dropping my phone from my grip.

Was this some new tactic to deceive me?

Why was Ryan so gentle today?

Sure, there were times when he spoke softly to me.

But the kinder he acted, the harsher he eventually became.

We started dating in high school.

I worked tirelessly to get into the same university as him.

He was smart—never forgot anything he learned, excelled at everything on his first attempt, and consistently ranked at the top of the class.

Meanwhile, I had to put in hundreds or even thousands of times more effort.

The first time I ranked second in the grade, I was thrilled and eager to hear him commend my improvement.

But that same day, Sophie Mitchell, the class beauty, was in tears.

She had consistently held the second spot in our class, but I had outperformed her.

While I was proud of my achievement, I couldn't shake a slight feeling of unease.

Standing before the ranking list, Ryan softly patted my head and said, "Donnie, you're incredible."

The following day, with a grin on his face, he enrolled me in the 5,000-meter long-distance run.

I was on my period and pleaded with him not to make me do it.

He gave me a reassuring pat on the head and, smiling, warned, "Be a good sport, Donnie. If you refuse to run, we're through."

Ryan's smile scared me.

I was surprised that Ryan wanted to reconcile so quickly after our breakup. I couldn't understand his thoughts and was unsure how to respond.

Then he asked me again, "Can I start chatting with you regularly from now on?"

Why did Ryan suddenly turn so polite just ten days after our breakup?

I responded promptly. "Sure, I'm always here."

I carefully asked, "So... you're not upset with me anymore?"

He appeared puzzled. "Why would you think that? When have I ever been angry with you?"

It seemed he had truly mellowed out.

I spent a long time gathering my courage before finally asking.

"So... is there a chance I could still be your girlfriend?"

There were a few minutes of silence before the response came.

"Uh, isn't this moving a bit quickly for us?"

I realized getting back together wouldn't be simple and felt disheartened.

"I'm sorry. If you're not interested... let's just drop it."

But then, another message was incoming.

"Hold on! Who said this is moving too quickly? It's not fast at all! I was just pretending to be cool because I didn't want to frighten you. In truth, I dream about being your boyfriend every day. Don't let appearances deceive you—I'm actually very dependable and will make a great boyfriend you can count on."

I blinked in disbelief.

Ryan had surprisingly agreed to reunite with me without much hesitation.

Yet, there was something off about him today.

Still, Ryan's moods had always been erratic, swinging between good and bad, and were often difficult to understand.

The day after he made me run the 5,000 meters was my birthday.

He launched fireworks in my favorite color by the lake in New York all night, as if he had entirely forgotten what he put me through the day before.

Under the burst of lights, he leaned in and whispered softly into my ear, his warm breath brushing against my earlobe.

"Happy 17th birthday, Donnie.

"Remember, this year, next year, and on all your future birthdays—I'm the only one who can be with you to celebrate them."

The memory remained fresh in my mind.

I stopped overthinking and finally smiled. "Me too. I promise I'll be really, really good."

After reuniting with Ryan, I felt so relaxed that I even indulged in an extra plate of spaghetti.

That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Our breakup had started because of Sophie.

During our long-distance relationship in college, I took a day off on Valentine's Day to fly solo for hours to his school, hoping to surprise him.

When I arrived at the campus gate, I sent him a message. "Ryan, I'm at the entrance of your school."

He took a while to respond.

Stuck outside, I had no option but to wait awkwardly.

An hour passed before he finally appeared at the gate.

He was strolling with Sophie, both of them chatting and laughing.

I was taken aback, not realizing they attended the same school.

When Ryan noticed me, he hesitated briefly and asked, "What are you doing here?"

I had intended to share with him how excited I was to see him, how early I'd gotten up to catch the flight today, and even how I stumbled and fell in my haste to get here.

Yet, as he looked at me intently, I found myself speechless, feeling like a bumbling fool.

One of his friends standing nearby said, "This must be your girlfriend, right? Well, come join us.

"Ryan shared your photos with us. You truly look as beautiful in person as you do in them."

I glanced at Ryan, feeling a bit awkward and unsure if I should join in.

Thankfully, Ryan grabbed my hand and said, "Come on, why are you just standing there like that?"

Once at the party, I discovered it was Sophie's birthday.

Ryan had arranged this event for her.

For me, the entire food was flavorless.

In the middle of the event, they began a game of truth or dare.

Sophie picked a card instructing her to passionately kiss any man there.

She grinned and glanced at me. "Donna, can I have a moment with your boyfriend?"

I immediately responded, "No."

She ignored me, pouting, and turned to Ryan.

"Please, won't you help me? Do you really want to watch me embarrass myself?"

Ryan gestured for her to come over. "Alright, come here."

I was stunned.

They were getting closer and closer.

My hands tightened into fists. My eyes stung with tears.

Just as their lips were nearly touching, Ryan burst into laughter, stepped back, and took a seat.

"Okay, Donnie's about to lose it. Let's stop here."

He lifted his glass. "I'll take the penalty for you. I'll drink this for you."

Sophie snorted dismissively and remarked, "Alright, your girlfriend is such a downer."

That night, Ryan had initially agreed to drive me to the airport.

But Sophie claimed she was drunk and demanded he take her back to the dormitory.

Throughout the journey, Sophie babbled incoherently, repeatedly calling out his name. "Ryan, Ryan..."

Each time, Ryan replied softly, "I'm here."

I continued trailing after them.

As Ryan carried Sophie to her off-campus apartment, Sophie unexpectedly clung tightly to his neck.

"I feel awful. You need to stay and look after me."

Ryan sighed softly and turned to me. "Donna, head home on your own."

I remained frozen in place. "You promised to take me to the airport."

Yet he merely glanced at me and replied in a neutral tone, "Donna, don't be stubborn."

It seemed like he believed I was the one acting irrationally the entire time.

The feelings I had suppressed all night flooded my heart.

I spent the entire day on the plane, eagerly looking forward to seeing him.

I had lived on instant food for a month to save enough money to purchase a Valentine's Day gift for him, intending to present it when we had some time alone.

My voice shook with emotion.

"If you choose to stay with her, we're done."

It was the first time I had taken the lead in bringing up the idea of breaking up.

I assumed he might show some sign of anxiety.

Instead, he simply paused briefly and then chuckled derisively.

"Alright, let's break up then."

I was taken aback by how easily he agreed.

Regret hit me instantly.

A wave of panic crashed over me, intense and overpowering.

I began trembling all over.

I couldn't recall how I had made it back that day.

All I remembered was that once I had returned to the dorm, my mind kept replaying every moment I'd shared with him.

I had liked him since high school, and we began dating in my sophomore year.

He was the first boy I held hands with, and shared my first hug and kiss.

During college, I worked hard to get into Harvard University—his dream school.

For some reason, he didn't do well on the exam and ended up enrolling at a university in the south.

He headed south, while I went north.

We were separated by over a thousand kilometers.

He suffered from airsickness, so throughout our two-year-long-distance relationship, I was always the one traveling to visit him.

And I never grew weary of it.

Being in a long-distance relationship brought many challenges, and it was always me who put in the effort to resolve them.

I frequently questioned whether this type of love was too exhausting and too modest.

Was this truly what I desired?

Yet, whenever I was on the verge of quitting, a voice inside my head reminded me.

"If you quit now, what would have been the purpose of all your previous efforts?"

I often imagined.

What if...

What if he changed?

What if he started to care about me?

Two days after reuniting with Ryan, I headed to the auditorium with my roommate to attend a lecture.

Ethan Rodriguez, known as the campus heartthrob, had been invited to speak.

Rumor had it he had won a gold medal in the International Collegiate Mathematical Modeling Competition, which earned him an invitation to share his insights on learning.

I was bored, so I started playing a single-player game on my phone.

Emma Johnson, my roommate, nudged me and said, "Hey, Ethan's on stage. He's so good-looking—maybe even more than your boyfriend, don't you think?"

It wasn't often that I heard anyone being considered more attractive than Ryan.

I looked up briefly and stopped in my tracks.

Ethan stood there in a pristinely pressed white shirt, his facial features sharp. The auditorium lights bathed his shoulders in a golden glow, making him look like a movie poster.

He was truly striking, radiating magnificently on the podium.

I found myself momentarily stunned.

In the middle of Ethan's speech, he unexpectedly smiled my way, causing my heart to skip a beat.

Emma caught it as well. "Donna, did you catch that? It seemed like he smiled at you."

I replied slowly, "It must be a trick of the light. How could that even happen? We don't know each other."

Emma pondered for a bit, then laughed. "So, what do you say? Is he more handsome than your boyfriend?"

I stubbornly insisted, "Not at all."

Emma gave me a light tap on the head and said, "Your standards are sky-high. Ethan is the ultimate sapiosexual crush.

"He's the heartthrob of Harvard University, an academic superstar, the student council president, and the heir to the Rodriguez Group—their family is on the Forbes list!

"Plus, his appearance is top-notch; even a spontaneous photo of him can go viral online!

I nodded and said, "He's certainly impressive, but it doesn't really matter. We're unlikely to interact much anyway."

After the meeting, I got a text from my boyfriend.

He sounded slightly hurt. "Baby, you haven't talked to me much today."

I felt a bit pleased.

It seemed like he had become more attached since we got back together.

Ryan wasn't usually the one to reach out first.

I told him, "I was attending a lecture in the auditorium. Our math department's top scholar was giving a speech."

He asked, "Did you think he looked good today?"

Honestly, he was quite handsome.

It wasn't just that his face was attractive. He shone when he was on stage, delivering speeches effortlessly.

However, Ryan had been quite proud and hadn't appreciated me complimenting others.

Therefore, I hadn't been able to respond truthfully to this question.

So, I quickly said, "Honestly, he's not that good-looking. I find him pretty average."

He responded, "Huh?"

I added, "He also looks pretty ordinary."

He replied, "What?"

For some reason, he then sent an emoji of a lost puppy and didn't say anything else.

That day, Ethan made a post on the confession wall.

The title read. "Urgent need for help!"

A photo was attached, and the content of the post read.

"This is me. My girlfriend thinks I'm unattractive, and now I'm dealing with severe appearance anxiety. I feel so insecure that I can't even talk to her. Please suggest a makeover plan."

His post quickly gathered numerous comments.

"Can someone back me up here? If this face is considered ugly, then what am I? Am I just dirt?"

"I'm amazed. If I see another post like this, may I receive 150 grand for free?"

"Seriously, who has the nerve to call this face ugly? I'm willing to take her place!"

When Emma stumbled upon the post, she vented to me, "Can you believe our campus heartthrob is head over heels for someone, too? He's so insecure about his looks just because of one comment from his girlfriend."

She added, "Ethan has wealth and charm. His girlfriend really doesn't realize how fortunate she is."

I replied, "Perhaps those who are loved unconditionally often overlook its value."

Having been a people-pleaser in relationships myself, I sympathized with Ethan.

Even the most impressive individuals can crumble in front of those they admire.

What kind of girl could make him feel insecure? I began to envy the girl Ethan adored.

Ryan is too proud. He will never be the one to step back or make me his priority.

In this relationship, I will always find myself at a disadvantage.