When His Only Moon Escaped

In the beginning, Julian was the one who pursued me.

Everyone knew he had once been Blair's most devoted suitor.

He pursued her with gestures so grand the entire university became an audience to his spectacle.

But on the very day he was preparing to propose, Blair left the country without a word, chasing after some European aristocrat.

Julian sped to the airport after her, got into a car accident, and was in critical care for a month.

As an illustrator juggling three jobs just to make ends meet, I should never have been caught in the crossfire of the rich and powerful.

But after seeing a report about my work, Julian specifically requested me as his private caregiver.

The salary he offered was astronomical.

I thought it was just a rich boy's whim.

Only later did I learn that he'd noticed me at an art exhibition long before the accident.

He had simply overheard someone mention me—a poor student buying art supplies on an installment plan.

He was like a distant sun—dazzling, brilliant, and scorching to the touch.

Later, Julian pursued me for four years.

Far longer than his entanglement with Blair.

So long, in fact, that when people mentioned Blair's name, he'd have to pause, as if searching his memory for who they meant.

Only then did I agree to be with him.

I didn't have much confidence in our relationship.

But Julian took me to meet his family and friends, time and time again.

He took me to his company.

He made a point of introducing me to everyone as the girlfriend he'd spent years pursuing.

Julian knew that many people compared me to Blair.

So, less than a year into our relationship, he formally proposed.

He said he wanted everyone to know that I was the one he chose to marry, not her.

He even spent a full year planning our wedding.

Julian handled every detail personally.

He said he wanted to give me a perfect wedding.

But on our wedding day, the only thing that arrived was the news of Blair's return.

In that moment, more than sadness, I felt a grim sense of relief—the kind that comes when a dark premonition finally proves true.

But Julian promised he wouldn't divorce me.

He promised it would be six months, tops. Once Blair was gone, he swore he would be the same Julian who loved me.

But I didn't want to wait anymore.