My Girlfriend's Appointed Massage Therapist Was Her First Love

My hometown in the northwest was barren, where roses couldn't even grow in the desolate desert.

I understood that loving someone was like nurturing a flower, so I took great care of my girlfriend, this delicate bloom.

She was like a rose—beautiful, spirited, and sharp.

If she were just a girl with a bad temper, I could accept that.

I understood that the prettier the girl, the prouder she was.

From the first day we started dating, I had prepared to pamper her for life.

But what if she wasn't loyal?

What if she betrayed our love? Could I still accept that unconditionally?

I felt restless, barely making it through the workday.

Before heading home, I texted her, but the reply was a glaring message: [Sorry, you are not on the other person's friend list.]

Cynthia had deleted me unilaterally.

Whenever she was upset, she would delete me.

I would plead with her, thinking that if she deleted our chat history, everything would be forgotten.

I couldn't bear to lose those little moments.

If she really couldn't stand me, she could just block me.

So, she would block me, waiting for me to transfer money before unblocking me.

But this time, she had been so ruthless.

Blocked on iMessage, and she wouldn't answer my calls.

I opened Eric's chat, wanting to ask if he knew where Cynthia was, but accidentally clicked on his social media.

Moments ago, he had posted a video.

The lighting was dim, with a sultry red glow.

The camera shook wildly, and in the last few seconds, Cynthia reached out to cover the lens, her face flushed and shy, "Stop filming!"