Love Shatters Like Lies

I bit down hard on my lip, forcing myself not to make a sound, no matter how much it hurt.

Stella knew Charles long before I did. Which meant... he'd never truly let her go.

The way Charles and I first met almost felt like something out of a story. It was the day of the piano competition finals, and my rival had locked me in a tiny, pitch-black room.

I had claustrophobia, and with the pressure of the performance, I was on the verge of breaking down.

Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, the door swung open—and there Charles was, backlit by light like some kind of savior.

I ended up winning that day. And after that, I started going after him like crazy. When I found out he was struggling with depression, I made it my mission to make him smile.

Charles always felt bad that I'd go out of my way to act goofy or dress silly, but I didn't mind at all.

When we were together, he'd feed me all sorts of delicious food.

Whenever I asked him why, he'd say, "Seeing you enjoy your food is like medicine for me."

He used to tell me that I gave him a sense of purpose and that he couldn't imagine life without me.

And I believed it. I thought our love had healed him. I thought he was fighting his way out of the darkness for me.

But somewhere along the way, his depression got worse.

One day, a tabloid segment came on TV about a rising actress getting engaged to some rich heir.

Something snapped in Charles. He grabbed a fruit knife and started cutting himself.

I scrambled to find him therapists so he could go into therapy. Even though treatment was expensive, I threw myself into commercial performances, taking every gig I could to pay for it all.

I gave up huge career opportunities without a second thought. As long as Charles got better, I didn't care. I never once complained.

Back then, I didn't know what was really going on. But now that I do, I realized how big of a fool I was.

Every breakdown was because of Stella—because he saw her playing the couple with someone else.

Now that his true love had returned, I was nothing compared to the one he truly cared about.

Absolutely nothing.

But I'd made up my mind to leave. It was time to sever this ridiculous past and let it go, once and for all.

That night, I drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep. It felt like the love I'd held onto for so long had been nothing but a long, exhausting dream.

By morning, my mentor called again. He told me everything was arranged, and all that was left was for me to go.

I packed my things and headed out to finalize the paperwork for going abroad.

On the way, my phone buzzed non-stop with messages from my best friend.

"Check the trending news! Why are Charles and Stella dating?"

I opened Twitter. Charles and Stella were caught by paparazzi, and their photo had skyrocketed to the top of the trending page.

#CharlesAndStellaReunited—FirstLoveReturns? LoveTriangleRumorsSoar#

Stella was quick to hold a press conference. "Charles said since we were kids that he'd only ever marry me. Now that I'm back, I think those rumors about a third party speak for themselves.

"Charles and I grew up together. Please believe in our love. No outsider can come between us."

"Charles loves me very much. Don't believe everything you hear."

But something must have gone wrong behind the scenes. One of Stella's top fans posted a complete timeline of her relationship with Charles.

According to them, I was the intruder.

Two childhood sweethearts, cruelly torn apart—fans and the public were eating it up as they felt heartbroken for Stella and Charles' tragic, enduring love.

Not long after, Charles called me. I stared at the screen.

He was probably going to lie again and make up some excuse. But I couldn't bear the thought of him panicking, so I picked up.

"Natalie, are you okay?" His voice was rushed. "Be careful—there are reporters everywhere. Just listen to me, okay?

"Stella's just a good friend. I'll explain everything. Where are you? I'm coming to find you—"

Before I could even hang up the phone, I saw a massive crowd blocking the road—Stella's fans and members of the press swarming the area.

Someone recognized me and shouted, rallying the others.

"That's her! That homewrecker, Natalie Quinn!"

"How dare you come between them? Do you have no shame?"

"Stella's just too kind. That's why this two-faced woman got away with it!"

"Ms. Quinn, how do you feel knowing you've come between Charles and Stella's relationship? Aren't you afraid of ruining your own reputation?"

They swarmed me like a pack of wolves, leaving no space to escape.

The air felt thick and suffocating, and a sharp pain exploded in my head. I crouched down, arms over my head, drowning in their accusations.

Then, a warm hand grabbed mine to pull me out of the crowd. When I realized it was Charles, my heart wavered.

Then, out of nowhere, a knife came lunging toward me. Amid the chaos, as fans pushed and shouted, Charles instinctively stepped in front of me and shielded me with his body.

My heart dropped. His blood dripped from the blade onto my hand, the warmth burning into my skin and into my eyes.

Why? Why was he still protecting me?

The crowd fell into stunned silence.

I held his wound with trembling hands and dialed 911.

A reporter seized the moment, shoved a camera in our faces and started clicking away.

"Mr. Foster, you just risked your life for this woman. What's your relationship with her? Are the rumors about you and Ms. Monroe true?"

Charles was caught off guard. Then, after a beat, he answered, "Stella and I are just friends. Please don't read too much into things. I hope the media will leave her alone.

"As for this woman… we have no relationship. I hope everyone can stay calm to avoid harming anyone."

My hands, still pressed against his wound, went cold. His voice echoed like thunder in my ears.

My nails dug into my palms, and the pain bloomed across my chest. Tears stung my eyes, but I held them back, desperate to keep just a shred of dignity.

Charles, you were the one who let go. This time, I really am walking away.