You Were My First, He'll Be My Last

But then, Louisa let out a chuckle. “Calm down, I was just kidding. You’re really easy to fool.”

I slammed my palm hard on the table. “I shouldn’t have eaten!” I snapped, standing abruptly and grabbing my bag without another word.

As Adrian came back, he was confused to see me disappear.

Louisa put on her perfect pout and explained, “She said my food wasn’t tasty and that it gave her a stomach ache. Then she got angry and stormed off.”

“She really needs to be scolded,” he muttered, already stepping forward.

But Louisa gently caught his arm. “No need, Adrian. Don’t ruin her mood before the exhibition. You better have breakfast too and get ready to go there.”

“And,” she added, “the building owner said the water in my apartment has been fixed, so I’ll go back first. Thanks for letting me stay over.”

Adrian exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing at her calm. “Okay, then. Go back and prepare yourself, I’ll pick you up at your apartment later.”

“Come to Elena’s exhibition with me,” he added, “Elena has to apologize to you.”

Louisa smiled. “Okay. Then I’ll wait for you to come.”

Without Adrian knowing, I had made my decision. When I came back from my exhibition, I would burn the 98th photo.

My morning had already been ruined, but still, when I put my pieces backstage, I immediately walked up to my family, kissed my mother’s cheek, accepted my father’s warm hug, and posed for a few family pictures.

But as I headed backstage to prepare for the exhibition, I noticed something strange. The key of my locker was broken and pieces of fabric ripped and slashed.

Gasps echoed behind me as my classmates gathered since it was only my locker that was broken.

Without a word, I turned and marched straight to the security office, fury boiling beneath my skin.

The security officer reviewed the footage. Then, there it was, Louisa.

She entered among the bustle, blending with the crowd an hour ago, while everyone was outside greeting their families, and pulled out a cutter to ruin my pieces proudly.

“That bitch!” I hissed, eyes burning with rage.

I copied the surveillance footage to my phone, since justice should be served. But I would confront her later, since I should think about the solution first.

I walked briskly toward the parking lot to get the backup piece I had—thank God—prepared.

But as fate would have it, Adrian and Louisa stepped out of the car like nothing had happened.

Without thinking twice, I stormed toward them, reached out and grabbed Louisa’s glossy curls, yanking them so hard a fistful came off in my hand.

“Aghh!” she shrieked as she stumbled backward, losing balance on her ridiculous high heels and crashing to the ground, knees slamming against the pavement.

“Elena!” Adrian finally shouted. “What the hell’s gotten into you?!”

“You want to know what’s gotten into me?” I snapped, unlocking my phone. “This.”

I shoved the screen toward him, the footage playing clearly.

“I found my locker destroyed. My pieces are ruined. And look who shows up on the security cam,” I hissed.

But Adrian—he did not even glance at the phone. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and muttered, “Lena, we just got here. How could she ruin your exhibition?

“You just don’t like her, so you’re trying to pin everything on her. You should be apologizing to her—for this morning, and now this.”

He scooped Louisa and carried her before adding, “You made me angry, Lena. I won’t watch your exhibition. I won’t attend your graduation.”

That cold, dismissive, and sharp tone was the only tone he once used to cut down people who bullied me. But that time, he used it against me.

As they reached the car, my phone buzzed.

A message from her. [Louisa: Good luck, loser.]

I turned sharply on my heels and whispered a promise to myself, ‘I’ll definitely burn the 98th and 99th photo when I get back to the apartment later.’

Fortunately, despite everything, my exhibition was a success.

Later that evening, I returned to Duarte Manor, the place that always embraced every time I fought with Adrian in the past.

After dinner, I finally spoke to them about my decision to study in Paris. My parents were hesitant—not because they did not want me to grow, but because they, too, had waited for the wedding.

But Sergio smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Mom, Dad, Elena is still young. Let her be happy for now. Besides, why rush to get married? Elena will get married eventually—it’s just that the timing is different.”

He winked at me. As a result, my parents finally nodded, though concern lingered in their eyes.

I did not tell them everything—not yet. I just did not want to create unnecessary drama between our families. Not until I had the right moment to speak.

***

A day before I left Spain, I drove to the villa with purpose, to pack everything, take what was mine, and leave no piece of myself behind. After all, I had not burned the 98th and 99th yet.

After emptying my room, I passed the room where all the 100 photos should hang on the wall. But since I burned most of them, leaving only one—our engagement photo, the 100th photo.

I walked inside, stared at it for a moment, and murmured to myself bitterly, "Let’s see, how long you’ll be displayed there."

Then I came out since I wanted to go pack my things in another room.

However, as I just closed the door, Adrian, who should be in the office, showed up in front of me, making me stumble in shock.

He caught me instinctively, one hand on my waist, the other steadying my arm.

“Did I surprise you?” he asked, smiling softly and tapped the tip of my nose with his index finger.