COPYRIGHT © 2017 Miu
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the Author.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All pictures and multimedia used are not the author’s work and doesn’t claim any legal rights.
MATURE CONTENT and VULGAR words not suited for young readers below eighteen (18) years old.
“Hello, Ladies. How are you holding up?”
I blinked, noticing that it was a while that I lost myself just staring at Lance while Zoe never left her eyes on Lawrence.
“Hello, Mr. Lee,” I greeted the handsome man who was now sitting in front of us.
“Hello, uncle! Glad to see you again,” Zoe chimed in while biting her lower lip slightly. She seemed to be uncomfortable with the man. I could not blame her –– I was also the same.
If Mrs. Lee was bubbly and accommodating, Mr. Lee was the no-nonsense type of man. Strict and proper.
“I saw you girls all quiet, just sitting here. So here I am to keep you girls company. That is, of course, if you are both fine with an old man like me.” Mr. Lee flashed us a warm fatherly smile, and my first impression of him popped like bubbles.
“Of course!” Zoe said, almost yelling. “We’re honored that a handsome dandy man such as you is accompanying us!”
I wanted to do the same, but I did not know what to say, so I nodded politely in agreement.
“I heard you girls are also studying in Artem. What are you majoring in?”
“The arts!” Zoe said.
“Really?” Mr. Lee’s eyes shone.
And like that, they were lost in their own conversation of paintings.
It was a while before Mr. Lee finally noticed me.
“How about you, Emery?”
“Music,” I replied, meekly.
In truth, I was always proud when I told someone about my major. But right now, I wish I studied arts.
Mrs. Lee’s high pitch voice made our attention shift to her. I did not notice that she was already behind me together with Lawrence.
“Emery Dear! Why don’t you play for us?” Mrs. Lee sat beside me, and clasped my hand, looking all hopeful.
I would not play for anybody, not even for royalty. But this was a different matter altogether.
These are my future in-laws!
“Uhmm . . . if you have a violin, I would love to,” I said with a polite voice and accommodating smile.
“There are groups of musicians later. We could borrow one for you,” Lawrence said and sat beside Zoe. He raised his hand on a waiter, and the waiter refilled Zoe’s empty glass.
My eyes flew to Lance, who was seated at a table with his friends beside the girl with pretty black hair, who reminded me so much of Leanna.
I ignored the countless cuts in my heart and the unbearable foreign pain, which made me feel like crying when Lance, since the beginning, focused all his attention on that girl.
That girl must be Jennifer Brane.
How Lance treated me with cold indifference was the exact opposite of how he treated the girl with warm kindness. He was smiling the entire time when talking to her. He was radiating with happiness that I wonder if he was the same boy who treated me coldly.
At first, I was confident that I could make him fall in love with me. Not for anything, but I was confident in my looks and in myself.
But looking at it now . . .
It seems . . . I have to give up.
My brain conceded defeat while my heart pounded hard in protest despite all the cuts it suffered.
He is happy with her. Are you going to ruin it for your selfish one-sided love?
Accepting the reasoning of my brain, my heart beat slow and tight. It was hard to breathe and it hurts. I bit my lower lip as I clenched my hands, and lowered my head so no one could see the glistening tears in my eyes.
“W-well . . . I-it’s time for the banquet to start! Emcee!”
Mrs. Lee must have felt my depress state as she lightened the mood. And now, I was not only feeling heartache but guilty as well for ruining the jolly mood.
I inhaled a mouthful of air as I put on my facade.
Even as the pain squashed me under it, all the negative energy compelled me to act out of character . . .
I did not.
After all . . .
I am still Emery Jansen.
Show your love and support by donating here.
Buy milk or tea to help the Author sleep at night.
Thank you for the love and support.
Please take in mind the other person’s feelings.
Like they say, if you have nothing good to say, best keep it to yourself. You can literally save a person’s life.