A Heart Sent from Afar to My Love

"This is her former manager. He came to visit out of friendship."

"I really want to be his manager. I want to be treated by Davis! He looks a hundred times better in person than on TV!"

"Yes, my God! A man like him is so pure, without a single scandal. Let me marry him in my dreams!"

Buzz.

Suddenly, Davis's phone rang. He glanced at it and his gaze unknowingly drifted toward the window.

"Um... honey, the director said the last scene has to be re-shot. I can’t stay with you tonight. I’m sorry. You’ll have to manage on your own tonight."

"Okay, go ahead," Ashlyn replied with a light tone.

Get out, get out, get out of here.

After Davis left, Ashlyn opened her social media.

[Geez! He just told me to continue tonight and try out the bathroom. He is so romantic, I can’t live without him anymore. What should I do?]

The overwhelming tears finally erupted. Ashlyn retched as she cried, losing track of time and before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep.

When she awoke, it was already past midnight.

The girl posted on her Moments once again. [He said I’m really good at cooking. Well, next time, I’ll cook at his home!]

The first picture was of a girl in a misty bathroom, her fair skin glowing with a soft, reddish hue. Only a third of her profile was captured in the shot, her eyes and eyebrows exuding an undeniable charm.

The second picture featured a digitally altered background. Two fingertips, delicately holding a cigarette, appeared in the scene, the lingering smoke curling up in the air, evoking endless thoughts and dreams.

After ten years of companionship, Ashlyn knew every inch of Davis's body. Who else could it be if not him?

With no sleep at all, Ashlyn made a call.

"Lindsey, please help me move tomorrow."

Lindsey, who had been with the team for over six years, had never seen Ashlyn so utterly lost. Even when her brother passed away, she never cried in front of others.

But this time, she refused the doctor’s suggestion to rest for a few days and insisted on standing tall, her posture unyielding like a tree. As tears fell, she stared blankly at the movers, unloading her belongings one by one. Lindsey wanted to urge her to sit down and take a break, but Ashlyn only muttered one word.

"Dirty."

Not a single strand of hair was out of place, yet Lindsey had no idea what she meant by dirty.

This immaculate 200-square-meter apartment was bought by Ashlyn after she helped Davis land the leading role in a historical drama. She personally supervised every detail of the decoration, from the color of the latex paint to the arrangement of the plants in each corner. It was Ashlyn's hard work, every inch of it.

But every time Davis came home over the past few years, he complained that the house was too small, that the space felt cramped and unappealing.

The luxury bags and jewelry from Davis had all been sold by Ashlyn to second-hand buyers. The 11 million dollars she received from the sales was donated by Ashlyn to the Cryogenic Research Center where Finn worked.

Before the sunset, the house was nearly emptied, leaving only the furniture and Davis's belongings behind.

"Ashlyn, there’s a pair of cups here. Do you want to take them?" Lindsey called out from the kitchen after surveying the house.

The cups were made of rough pottery, their bases twisted into unique shapes. When placed together, they fit perfectly, forming a complete pair.

It was a love gift they had made and fired together when they were both 22 years old.

After the cups were fired, Ashlyn had given him her first time.

The young man in his twenties, brimming with vitality but still immature, had been so nervous that his body trembled. She had cried out in pain, but Davis had been gentle and tender, carefully offering her the best experience he could.

Once upon a time, they had not only been in love but had shared a deep physical connection.

"Babe, I don’t feel anything except you. I am yours in this life."

His lingering words of affection still echoed in her ears, yet when she turned around, she found that he had spent the night with countless other women.

Perhaps men's minds and bodies were governed by two separate systems, which explained why they could hold sharp swords in one hand and speak sweet words with the other.