He quickly adjusted his expression,

ignoring my upset look, and smiled slightly at me:

"Claire, you came to pick me up?"

He didn’t care about the hurtful things he said.

After all, it wasn’t the first time he had spoken ill of me behind my back.

He was convinced that, with just a few sweet words, the matter would blow over.

But he shouldn’t have let me find out

that his feelings for me were a mix of false affection and deceit.

The atmosphere in the room gradually cooled,

but his brash friends were unfazed.

One of them grinned at me:

"Don’t be mad, sis. It’s bad for your liver. How about a drink with us?"

I ignored him, walked over to Ryan, and slapped him hard.

A red handprint quickly surfaced on his face.

I studied it for a moment—it wasn’t very symmetrical.

Before he could react, I slapped him again with my other hand.

Seeing his cheeks turn bright red, I felt relieved. I threw down a breakup and quickly walked away.

I didn’t want to stay in that disgusting environment for even another second.

Ryan, clutching his burning face, hurried after me, leaving his phone behind.

"Claire, trust me, I was just joking with them!"

Ryan grabbed my hand.

"Why can’t you be more understanding? I didn’t really do it—I was just talking!"

"Everyone chats about stuff like this. If I didn’t join in, I’d be out of place."

I stopped and turned to look into his eyes.

Three years ago, we had just graduated and were living apart because of work.

That summer’s downpour came so suddenly,

and he waited for me after work, standing in the rain outside.

To make sure I’d see him first, he stood outside the car, getting completely drenched.

I remember his clear, bright eyes, shining as they looked at me.

So warm, so intense.

He said with deep affection:

"I missed you so much, Claire."

It was so easy to fall into that kind of tender love.

But now I know the real reason he drove four hours to see me:

because I was cheaper than a prostitute.

Yes, hiring one comes with the risk of getting caught or contracting a disease.

But finding me was cheaper, cleaner, and safer.

And he could make me feel touched while taking whatever he wanted.

It was a win-win situation—why wouldn’t he enjoy it?

I stared into his insincere eyes, disappointment flooding my heart.

"I’ll pack up the gifts you bought me and return them to you."

"This is the end for us."

Ryan stood frozen in place, his confusion seemingly genuine.