End Love, Discard Innocence

I was evicted by my landlord again and had nowhere to go.

Standing in the rain, clutching my luggage, I cried helplessly. Just then, Derrick drove by and spotted me.

“Aiselle?” he called out, concern evident in his voice.

He placed my luggage in the trunk and took me back to his family villa once again.

“I’ve already spoken to your dad,” he reassured me. “So don’t worry about staying here.”

He was truly considerate. Even the pajamas he had prepared for me were my favorite pink color. Despite his kindness, I still couldn’t bring myself to appear in front of him without blushing.

I had known Derrick since childhood. He once attended a birthday banquet my dad hosted for me. Among all the guests, I couldn’t take my eyes off Derrick. People even teased, “Derrick is getting more handsome by the day—even the little girls can’t stop looking at him.”

Whenever Derrick visited, I always called him “Bro.” He would laugh and squat down to correct me.

“Aiselle, I’m your father’s friend. You should call me Uncle Derrick.”

During the year I stayed at his house, I stubbornly continued to call him “Brother.” Derrick never corrected me again.

One day, the water heater on the second floor broke. Since Derrick wasn’t home, I used the bathroom on his floor to shower. Halfway through, the door suddenly opened. Derrick stood there, equally shocked.

“Sorry!” he blurted, eyes wide with panic as he quickly backed out.

I stood frozen, my mind blank. After getting dressed, I stepped out to find Derrick’s gaze lingering on me.

Awkwardly, I explained, “The water heater upstairs is broken, so I...”

He chuckled lightly and shook his head. “It’s okay. I didn’t see anything. Don’t worry.”

Relief washed over me, but disappointment lingered. Derrick always carried himself with a righteous, almost ethereal aura. I’d heard that after his first love left the country, he had stayed single.

After much internal debate, I finally summoned the courage to confess my feelings. But he turned me down.

“Aiselle, I see you as a child. You’re still young...” he said gently.

“But I’m not a child, Derrick. You’re only a bit older than me and I like you,” I insisted.

Derrick froze, a helpless smile spreading across his face. From that moment on, I noticed his gaze lingered on me more often. He paid attention to everything I did.

After my failed confession, I found an apartment and prepared to leave. On my last night, I intended to say goodbye. Unexpectedly, Derrick came home drunk. He hugged me tightly, his eyes misty and filled with longing. His scent enveloped me.

Reason told me to push him away, but I couldn’t. I let him hold the back of my head as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

The next morning, Derrick awoke filled with regret. But soon, he came to me and, as always, spoke gently.

“Aiselle, since you like me too, would you be willing to try being my girlfriend?”

Overjoyed, I agreed immediately.

Only later did I learn the truth. The reason Derrick got drunk that night was because he’d found out that Claire, his first love, had married someone else abroad. In his drunken state, he had murmured “Claire,” mistaking me for Claire’s double.

Derrick went to the bathroom to shower, leaving his phone on the nightstand. It began to ring repeatedly.

Derrick’s phone was never off-limits to me. His lock-screen password was my birthday. Once, I joked, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll snoop?”

He pulled me into his arms, smiling dotingly. “What’s there to be afraid of? I’m all yours.”

Out of trust, I never checked his phone. But now, with the sound of water pattering in the bathroom, I glanced at his phone—and froze when a message popped up.