Seven Years Secret, I Stopped Chasing - Chapter 10: Chapter 10
You are reading Seven Years Secret, I Stopped Chasing, Chapter 10: Chapter 10. Read more chapters of Seven Years Secret, I Stopped Chasing.
"Serena, you need to get yourself checked at the hospital. This isn't healthy," Stephanie urged, her voice laced with genuine worry.
Serena's face flushed crimson. "Albion is my boyfriend!" she snapped. "Seven years—we've been together seven years!"
Then her expression softened as she turned to me, eyes pleading. "Albion, tell them. Please. You're my boyfriend, right?"
I shook my head. "Serena, stop this. You're making people believe things that aren't true."
No matter how she begged, I wouldn't confirm her story. Our seven-year relationship had been our secret—no photos, no social media posts, nothing to prove it ever happened.
Stephanie's concern only grew. We didn't even finish dinner before she practically dragged me out of the restaurant.
"You need to stay away from her," she warned on the drive home. "She's clearly not in her right mind."
I nodded silently.
That night, I burned every sketch of the wedding ring I'd once dreamed of designing for Serena. The last physical proof of us went up in flames. Those seven years would exist only in my memory now. To ensure she couldn't track me down, I called Mom that evening—I was moving back home.
Mom complained but showed up to help me pack. Within days, I was settled in my childhood bedroom.
Soon after, I reluctantly agreed to Mom's blind date setup.
The surprise? My college junior. Mom hadn't exaggerated—she was sweet, beautiful, with eyes that held quiet admiration. But my heart wasn't ready.
"I can't start something new right now," I admitted over dinner.
She simply smiled. "That's okay. I'll wait."
I learned she'd had feelings for me since university—back when I'd been too buried in textbooks to notice.
We became close friends, dancing around unspoken feelings but finding comfort in each other's company.
Meanwhile, Serena escalated to stalking—camping outside my office, trying to ambush me. When Stephanie witnessed this, she lost it.
"You used to be attached to Cyril's hip!" Stephanie yelled at Serena right on the sidewalk. "Now suddenly seven years with Albion? What kind of delusion is this?"
Serena collapsed like a broken doll, sobs wracking her body.
Stephanie stormed back in, still fuming. "Can you believe her? Flirting with Cyril while calling herself your girlfriend? She doesn't know boundaries—never did."
"Exactly," I agreed. "I'd never be with someone like that."
I was done with those seven years. When my company offered an overseas study program, I jumped at it.
Only family and my junior knew about my plans.
But when I landed in Paris, there she was—waiting at arls.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, stunned.
"Business trip," she smiled. "Thought I'd welcome you."
I hadn't shared my flight details. "How'd you time this so perfectly?"
A nearby driver chuckled. "This young lady's been pacing since morning, checking her watch every five minutes."
Her cheeks pinked as she looked away.
Warmth flooded my chest. "Thank you," I said quietly. "For making a foreign place feel like home."
She became my anchor—creating custom maps, listing emergency contacts, flying over whenever she could.
Six months later, I confessed my feelings.
Around that time, Stephanie texted: [Congrats on the new relationship. Good timing—Serena's a wreck. Didn't end up with Cyril, now she's chasing your lookalikes. Gets drunk, screams your name. Total breakdown.]
I didn't reply.
Serena belonged to my past. I was moving forward—eyes on the future.
Serena's face flushed crimson. "Albion is my boyfriend!" she snapped. "Seven years—we've been together seven years!"
Then her expression softened as she turned to me, eyes pleading. "Albion, tell them. Please. You're my boyfriend, right?"
I shook my head. "Serena, stop this. You're making people believe things that aren't true."
No matter how she begged, I wouldn't confirm her story. Our seven-year relationship had been our secret—no photos, no social media posts, nothing to prove it ever happened.
Stephanie's concern only grew. We didn't even finish dinner before she practically dragged me out of the restaurant.
"You need to stay away from her," she warned on the drive home. "She's clearly not in her right mind."
I nodded silently.
That night, I burned every sketch of the wedding ring I'd once dreamed of designing for Serena. The last physical proof of us went up in flames. Those seven years would exist only in my memory now. To ensure she couldn't track me down, I called Mom that evening—I was moving back home.
Mom complained but showed up to help me pack. Within days, I was settled in my childhood bedroom.
Soon after, I reluctantly agreed to Mom's blind date setup.
The surprise? My college junior. Mom hadn't exaggerated—she was sweet, beautiful, with eyes that held quiet admiration. But my heart wasn't ready.
"I can't start something new right now," I admitted over dinner.
She simply smiled. "That's okay. I'll wait."
I learned she'd had feelings for me since university—back when I'd been too buried in textbooks to notice.
We became close friends, dancing around unspoken feelings but finding comfort in each other's company.
Meanwhile, Serena escalated to stalking—camping outside my office, trying to ambush me. When Stephanie witnessed this, she lost it.
"You used to be attached to Cyril's hip!" Stephanie yelled at Serena right on the sidewalk. "Now suddenly seven years with Albion? What kind of delusion is this?"
Serena collapsed like a broken doll, sobs wracking her body.
Stephanie stormed back in, still fuming. "Can you believe her? Flirting with Cyril while calling herself your girlfriend? She doesn't know boundaries—never did."
"Exactly," I agreed. "I'd never be with someone like that."
I was done with those seven years. When my company offered an overseas study program, I jumped at it.
Only family and my junior knew about my plans.
But when I landed in Paris, there she was—waiting at arls.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, stunned.
"Business trip," she smiled. "Thought I'd welcome you."
I hadn't shared my flight details. "How'd you time this so perfectly?"
A nearby driver chuckled. "This young lady's been pacing since morning, checking her watch every five minutes."
Her cheeks pinked as she looked away.
Warmth flooded my chest. "Thank you," I said quietly. "For making a foreign place feel like home."
She became my anchor—creating custom maps, listing emergency contacts, flying over whenever she could.
Six months later, I confessed my feelings.
Around that time, Stephanie texted: [Congrats on the new relationship. Good timing—Serena's a wreck. Didn't end up with Cyril, now she's chasing your lookalikes. Gets drunk, screams your name. Total breakdown.]
I didn't reply.
Serena belonged to my past. I was moving forward—eyes on the future.
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