The Ring I Threw Away Chapter 04
Those words were like daggers forged in ice, stabbing right into Lucas’s heart with surgical precision.
The color drained completely from his face. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Those once–bright, flirtatious eyes were now just hollow shells, fixed on me like he was searching for any sign that I was lying.
But he found nothing.
All he saw was just pure, icy indifference.
He swayed, then suddenly grabbed the cold wall beside him, barely keeping himself upright. His chest heaved violently, like a fish thrown onto dry land, mouth opening and closing, desperate and helpless for air.
“Th–threw it away?” He finally croaked, his voice destroyed. “How could you… that was… that was…”
That was his “true heart.” The one he’d carefully chosen, knelt sixty–six times to offer.
And now that heart, and the ring that carried it, meant less to me than trash.
I didn’t look at him again. I walked past him and pulled out my keys.
“Olivia.” He shouted behind me, desperate and defiant. “I don’t believe you. You’re lying. You have to be lying.”
The key slid into the lock with a sharp click.
I pulled the door open and slipped inside.
Just as the door was about to close, I heard him force out one last choked question.
“Then tell me… what did those three years even mean?”
What did they mean?
The door closed softly behind me, cutting off all his pathetic yelling and that stupid question.
The heavy door shut his whole world out.
What did they mean?
They meant I was blind.
They meant I was stupid.
They meant I wasted three years of my youth.
The apartment was quiet, except for the faint city noise outside. I leaned back against the cold door and slid down to the floor.
I didn’t cry.
That dead wasteland in my chest didn’t even have a breeze.
I was just tired. Bone–deep, soul–crushing tired.
Lucas didn’t leave.
He lingered outside my apartment building, haunting the place like a ghost.
On the first day, he stood there, staring up at my window with a wild, desperate look in his eyes.
On the second day, he sat by the flower bed, his hair soaked with night dew, looking even more pathetic and defeated.
On the third day, a cold rain fell over Brighton, Lucas stood there, soaked to the bone, his thin trench coat plastered to his body, outlining how gaunt he’d become.
Neighbors passed by, casting him curious or pitying glances, but he didn’t seem to notice. He
stubbornly kept his head raised, like a statue forgotten in the rain.
Ryan called me from another number, practically begging. “Olivia, just go see him. He’s going to kill himself if this keeps up. He really knows he messed up.”
I hung up and blocked him.
Kill himself? Like he’d actually do that.
He’d never give up his Bennett family status, his cushy life, or his brand–new “girlfriend” Sophie.
This was just a pity act, trying to make me feel sorry for him again.
Too bad the audience had already left.
On the fourth morning, I pulled back the curtain. The spot downstairs was empty.
All that was left were some crushed flower petals and a few cigarette butts ground into the mud.
It was as if he’d never even been there.
Good.
Life got back on track, and honestly, it was even busier than before.
I got into a super competitive master’s program at Humboldt University, with Professor Schneider, a total hard–ass in the field, as my advisor. I spent every day in the library, the lab, wrestling with dense. data and documents.
Every minute was filled.
Sometimes, when I came up for air, I’d scroll through some “aftershocks” from back home.
Lucas seemed to have “bounced back” for real.
He was back in his fancy social circle, even more active than before. His name started showing up in the business section, tied to the Bennetts‘ new moves. In the gossip columns, he and Sophie Carter were popping up more and more.
They’d attend charity galas together. Sophie was in designer gowns, dripping with diamonds, smiling sweetly for the cameras, clutching Lucas’s arm. He‘ d have a blank expression, but at least he wasn’t pushing her away anymore.
Someone snapped them checking out a new luxury development, supposedly picking out a love nest.
The tabloids screamed, “Wild Child Tamed? Lucas Bennett House–Hunting with New Flame. Wedding
Bells Soon?”
The comments were a whole new vibe.
[Told you. Old love doesn’t stand a chance against new love.]
[They’re a perfect match. Look at Sophie. She’s so classy.]
[Olivia is history now.]
They never stopped.
I scrolled past, totally unfazed.
I almost laughed.
See? That was reality.
Nobody was irreplaceable. So–called “true love”
would crumble in the face of money and novelty.
Fine by me.
He had his “new life.” I had mine.
That was how it should be. Separate paths.