It Was Never Love to Begin With

My body matured faster than most girls my age.

When I turned 18, my overprotective brother worried I’d be taken advantage of, so he asked his best friend to look after me.

But the first time we met, that man's eyes never left my body.

After I graduated from college, he kept crossing the line, again and again.

By day, he was my boss, and by night, I was his "personal assistant."

For four years, we kept our affair a secret.

He molded me into exactly what he liked, and the worst part? I let him.

One day, his ex-fiancée came back from overseas. He slipped out of my bed in the middle of the night and rushed to the airport to pick her up.

Humiliated but unwilling to let go, I followed him there, only to watch him gently stroke another woman’s hair right in front of me.

He turned to me and said, "Jennifer Huckabee, four years ago, you were the one who crawled into my bed while I was drunk. The way you're behaving now… it’s really pathetic."

The way he looked at her was soft, and the way he mocked me was sharp and deliberate.

I suddenly realized he was right. This was meaningless.

So I lowered my head, texted my brother to tell him I’d accept the Sinclair family marriage proposal, then looked up at that man and smiled.

"Alright then. Goodbye."

Marvin Huckabee, my brother, called not long after.

I could hear the relief in his voice through the call, surely because he thought I had finally let go of the man I had loved for years.

What he did not know was that the man I was madly in love with…was his best friend, Devin Woodford.

After hanging up, I picked up the resignation letter I already prepared and headed for HR. However, the process stalled at the final step.

"Ms. Huckabee, if you want to resign within a week, you'll need the CEO's signature for approval."

Devin again. Even at the very end, I still could not avoid him.

I tightened my grip on my phone, walked to the end of the empty hallway, and dialed that all-too-familiar number.

The ringing went on for a long time.

Just as I thought no one would pick up, the line clicked. A strange female voice came through.

"Hello? Looking for Devin? He's in the shower…"

In the shower…

Those three words stabbed my chest like a thousand poisoned needles. Nonetheless, my voice stayed calm, almost unnaturally so.

"No need, thank you."

Before she could say anything else, I hung up. The screen went dark, reflecting my pale face.

Less than two minutes later, my phone buzzed violently again. I stared at Devin's name on the screen for several seconds before answering.

"Did you need something?"

His tone was businesslike: cold and detached. Just last night, this same man had been on top of me, whispering my name intimately over and over again.

My fingers whitened around the resignation letter.

"Mr. Woodford, there's a document that needs your signature before the process can go through."

He gave a low hum of acknowledgment, then added, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, right. Stop by later and pack up the rest of your stuff. She's moving in.

"The apartment in the western suburbs is empty. You can stay there. I promised Marvin I'd take care of you."

Four years ago, he pulled me into his bed while drunk, tossing me the charity of being his bedmate. Four years later, under the excuse of loyalty to his best friend, he was offering me a place to live.

His carefully considerate gestures were so absurd, they almost made me laugh.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Woodford," I said, forcing a smile. "I'm an adult. I can take care of myself."

Once he signed the resignation form and I finished my last handover, the ridiculous four years between us would finally come to an end.

Me? I was getting married.

I opened my eyes in the hotel room as morning light streamed in. For the first time in years, I felt more awake than in any morning I had spent by Devin's side.

I called a car and returned to the villa I'd lived in for four years. However, the moment I stepped inside, I almost thought I had walked into the wrong house.

The once minimalist black-and-gray space was instead drenched in warm tones.

The entryway wall, where I had begged him for a month to let me hang even a single plush toy, had been transformed into a display filled with stuffed animals.

"Melissa likes it this way," Devin's voice sounded from behind me.

When I turned, he looked slightly troubled.

"She came by yesterday. Saw your things and got upset."

It was not until he led me to the storage room that I understood what he meant.