Chapter 1

The day I won the National Photography Contest, Liam, my boyfriend of eight years, said he'd personally present the flowers on stage.

Standing on that podium, my heart was pounding with anticipation, ready to propose with my championship ring.

But then, with a smile that twisted my gut, he publicly handed that bouquet of roses to his female friend, Harper.

Under the harsh spotlight, they became the undeniable center of attention.

The venue buzzed, and trending topics online exploded with congratulatory messages.

Harper's fans even tagged me in their posts: "Told you not to cling to our favorite couple! Bet you feel silly now, huh?"

I simply posted a message on Ins: "Respect. Blessings. May you two be forever tied."

Under the dazzling spotlight, I gripped the trophy, a symbol of the industry's highest honor, standing center stage in the awards hall.

My boyfriend, Liam, walked slowly toward me, a bouquet of fresh flowers in his hands.

He'd once promised that when I won the National Photography Contest, he'd announce our relationship during the awards ceremony.

Tonight, he must have come specially to give me flowers, even picking roses, symbols of love.

It was the first time he'd ever given me flowers, and his expression was so focused.

My cheeks flushed as I tried to calm the wild flutter in my chest, my eyes fixed on him as he approached.

I mentally rehearsed my plan: the moment he handed me the flowers, I'd pull out the ring and propose to him live, in front of the whole country.

Even if we'd been arguing just yesterday over some work disagreements.

But what couple doesn't have a few arguments, right?

My fingers nervously traced the outline of the ring in my pocket.

"Congratulations on your win!" Liam said, extending the flowers.

I reached out, joy bubbling in my chest, ready to take them. But they brushed past my outstretched hand, landing squarely in the arms of my colleague, Harper, who stood beside me.

Harper was Liam's long-time friend, someone he'd known even longer than me, and also a photographer.

My smile instantly froze, a brittle mask on my face.

Staring at my boyfriend, who was now beaming at Harper, I paused, then let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

Harper. Again.

I should have known.

In his heart, this female friend had always been more important than his girlfriend.

Our argument yesterday? It was about Harper, too.

Yet, I never imagined he would publicly give flowers, symbols of love, to Harper.

Harper, with her unique photography style and rare beauty, had a massive following in the photography community. Giving her flowers in public like that would undoubtedly be misinterpreted by everyone.

Silently, I slipped the ring back into my pocket, hearing the entire venue erupt in fan screams.

The sound was so loud, it felt like it could tear the roof off.

Flashes from cameras exploded, making everything else around them fade into insignificance.

The awards ceremony wasn't even over, and videos of their interaction were already trending.

They looked like a perfect match, talented and attractive, prompting countless people to "ship" them as a couple.

But all that excitement had nothing to do with me.

With a wry smile, I stepped off the stage and walked alone to the backstage lounge.

Watching the flood of well-wishes on trending topics, I suddenly felt utterly exhausted.

Perhaps it was time to put an end to this relationship.

So, I sent Liam a SnapChat message: "Let's break up. I won't get in your way anymore."

The moment I sent it, Liam called.

I didn't plan to answer, hanging up immediately. Then I called a cab and headed back to our shared apartment to pack my bags.

This apartment was mine and Liam's.

Since we'd broken up, there was no way I could continue living under the same roof as him.

While I packed, Liam sent me countless messages:

"What do you mean, 'break up'?"

"What are you stirring up now! Can you stop being so petty!"

"Alright, everyone wants to celebrate, come on over, Harper and the others are waiting for you!"

Every single word revolved around Harper.

He gave roses to another woman, then turned around and accused me of being narrow-minded.

I scoffed at my phone, turned it off, and zipped up my suitcase.

It all happened so suddenly; I didn't have time to find another place, so I decided to temporarily move into a friend's vacant apartment.

The apartment was quiet. All the other exhibitors were out celebrating.

Habitually, I turned on my laptop, exported the raw files from the awards ceremony, and began post-processing. Only when I focused on color grading and composition could I find a semblance of peace.