No Longer in Love

At the hospital, I forced myself to keep working through the painful rash on my neck.

Just as the IV drip was finishing, I got an unexpected call from my brother, Michael.

His voice came through the line with a light chuckle before he said, “Rosie, you lost.”

Six years ago, I returned to the country for a friend’s party when I was in a car accident.

Trapped inside the wreckage, it was Mark who risked his life to pull me out.

From that moment, I fell hopelessly in love with him.

So I went against my family’s wishes and chose to stay after graduation.

I accepted a job at Mark’s company as his secretary, all so I could take care of him.

Michael never liked Mark and never believed in our relationship. However, I was too obsessed with Mark to listen to anyone.

So I made a bet with my brother.

I had seven years. If Mark hadn’t fallen for someone else by then, I’d win ten percent of the family shares as my wedding dowry.

If I lost, I’d go back home and agree to arranged dates.

With Mark’s proposal trending all over the internet, there was no way Michael could’ve possibly missed it.

My relationship with Mark ended after six years.

I accepted the loss and replied calmly, “Yeah. I’ll fly back in three days and start going on the dates.”

That night, I dragged my exhausted body back to the hotel, only to find Mark waiting inside my room.

The company had come to Colmar for a retreat, so the employees were staying at the hotel.

Mark, being a clean freak, stayed at his private estate nearby.

Hearing movement by the door, he didn’t even look up.

“Where were you?” he asked coldly.

Kicking off my shoes, I gave a vague reply.

“Nowhere.”

I didn’t offer details, nor did Mark ask for any.

Instead, he casually handed over a pink gift box.

“Lana picked this out for you. Isn’t she thoughtful?

“And about the trending topic, get someone to clean it up fast. Don’t let it damage her reputation. She’s not in a state to handle stress right now.”

I opened the box to find a preserved green rose.

If I remembered correctly, Mark had given Lana ninety-nine preserved roses of various colors yesterday.

She’d even complained on Instagram that the green one was the ugliest.

Now, he was re-gifting it to me.

I gave a quiet “Mm” and set it aside, not saying anything else.

Sensing my off mood, Mark tried to explain. It was something he never did.

“You’re upset? Nothing’s going on between me and Lana…”

As he stepped closer, the strong scent of alcohol hit me. Mixed with it was Lana’s favorite jasmine perfume.

I caught a glimpse of his disheveled collar, under which faint hickeys were strewn across his skin.

I casually stepped aside and pretended to get some water.

“I know there’s nothing going on between you two.”

Then, after a pause, I added, “I’m not angry.”

I had known his answer long ago.

Every time he chose Lana over me, he would say, “We’re just friends. If something were going to happen, it would’ve already.”

Oddly enough, this time, my response set him off.

His face twisted in frustration, and his voice turned cold.

“Then what’s your attitude now?”

“If you know there’s nothing between us, why are you still giving me that look?”

I was slightly speechless.

How was I giving him attitude by not agreeing with him?

I took a deep breath, just about to speak, when his phone rang with Lana’s custom ringtone.

Mark shot me a cold glance before turning away to answer, voice softening instantly.

“Mark, my stomach suddenly feels weird… Can you come check on me? Maybe take me to the hospital?”

“Okay, stay put. I’ll be there soon.”

Before he even hung up, he was already walking toward the door.

Just as he reached for the handle, he paused and looked back at me in a rare move.

“There’s a problem with a client. I need to go deal with it.

“Get some rest. No need to wait up for me.”

He didn’t wait for my reply. He grabbed his coat and left in a rush.

…

I sent my resignation letter to HR’s email.

However, I instructed her to read it after the retreat ended, and we were back home.

Not long after, I got a message from Lana.

It was a photo of Mark in the kitchen, making porridge.