Seven Years Secret, I Stopped Chasing - Chapter 1: Chapter 1

I'd been secretly dating my sister's best friend for seven years.
One night, after one too many drinks, she turned to me with a teasing smirk and said, "Albion, I'll find you a better woman. So, can you stop clinging to me now?"
I kept my face blank, unreadable.
In my past life, I would've refused. I would've stubbornly held on, insisting we belonged together. But in the end, she pulled away—avoiding me, ignoring me, pushing me out of her life.
And when I was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for my life after a car crash, she was in the Arctic with her first love, chasing the Northern Lights.
That was the moment I learned the hard truth: sincerity can crumble in an instant, and love can't be forced.
So this time, I just said, "Alright."
Serena Adams froze, her smirk slipping. She hadn't expected me to agree so easily.
The pte room was dim, the flickering lights casting shadows across her face. She wasn't wearing makeup, her cheeks flushed—but her eyes were sharp, sober. She wasn't drunk at all.
I straightened in my seat, meeting her gaze with a faint, knowing smile.
Her usual lazy confidence was gone, replaced by something tense, almost wary. "Albion," she said, voice low, "did you even hear what I just said?"
"I heard you."
In the past, I would've cut her off, playfully scolding her for joking like that. But now? I couldn't care less.
"Albion, you—"
Before she could finish, my sister, Stephanie, sauntered back in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Guess who I just saw outside?"
Without waiting for an answer, she smirked. "Your first love. Drunk off his ass and getting dragged into another pte room by a bunch of rich cougars."
Serena was out of her seat before Stephanie even finished speaking, storming into the hallway.
Soon, the sound of shattering glass and raised voices echoed through the door.
I stayed where I was, lazily peeling an orange from the fruit platter.
Serena loved fruit but hated peeling it. Every time, I'd meticulously remove the rind and hand it to her, just so she'd take a few bites. Stephanie used to tease me: "You treat her better than your own sister. What, are you in love with her or something?"
There were so many times I wanted to say yes. But Serena would always cut me off, looping her arm through mine with a playful grin. "Maybe Albion just likes me better than you. Little brothers are supposed to spoil their big sisters—got a problem with that?"
Eventually, I got the message. She didn't want anyone to know.
So for seven years, we hid in plain sight.
Now, Stephanie hovered by the door, watching the chaos outside before turning back to me. "Your Serena's out there throwing hands. Aren't you gonna go help?"
I popped the last slice of orange into my mouth and shrugged. "Girl fight. Not my business."
She rolled her eyes and went to intervene.
I stayed behind, waiting until the noise died down before finally stepping out.
And there she was—Serena, clinging to him.
Cyril Smith. Her first love. The one she could never forget.
He was wasted, slumped against her like a ragdoll. But instead of pushing him away, she held him tighter, her arms wrapped protectively around him.
Her dark eyes burned with anger—and something deeper, something she didn't even realize herself.
Heartbreak.