My fiancé, Manuel, was driving me up the mountain on his motorcycle when we ran into his first love, Hathaway. The former heiress of the bankrupt Miller family was at her absolute lowest, abandoned at the summit. Manuel’s eyes went red. A mocking smirk played on his lips as he taunted her for finally getting what she deserved. But in the middle of the night, I woke up freezing in the tent, only to find both Manuel and Hathaway gone. The biting night wind completely snapped me out of my illusions. I didn’t sleep a wink. It wasn't until the following evening that I managed to hitch a ride home with a kind stranger. That was when I realized Manuel had never actually hated Hathaway. Confronted by my questions, he didn't show a single shred of remorse: "Hathaway is different from you, Chloe. She’s never had to struggle." I let out a soft laugh and slapped him right across the face. "And what about you? Have you ever felt real pain?" The freezing night wind whipped through the gaps of the tent. I gasped, waking up in pitch darkness. An inexplicable wave of panic washed over me, and I instinctively reached out for Manuel, who was supposed to be sleeping right beside me. But my hand met only the hard, cold ground. Another gust of wind blew in. I looked up and saw the tent flap fluttering loosely in the breeze. Outside, the stars were breathtakingly bright, but they only served to illuminate the empty space beside me. My heart instantly squeezed. Where was Manuel? I sat in the tent, completely lost. The entire world was dead silent, save for the howling wind that sent shivers down my spine. Steeling my nerves, I crawled out of the tent, trying to convince myself that maybe he had just gone to find a spot to pee. But the moment I stepped outside and saw the empty clearing under the faint starlight, reality hit me like a physical blow. Manuel’s motorcycle was gone. The man I had been dating for two years, the man I was about to marry, had abandoned me all alone on a deserted mountain.
Deep down, I had seen this coming. Yet, when it actually happened, I was completely unprepared. It felt as if someone had shot me straight through the chest. A dull, numbing pain radiated to my fingertips. Manuel was a motorcycle fanatic. We had been together for two years, and since both of our families highly approved of the match, our engagement had been smooth sailing. To celebrate, we had planned this mountain camping trip a week ago. Today, right on schedule, he rode his bike up here, packed with all our camping gear. What I never expected was that the moment we reached the summit, we would run into his first love, Hathaway. The second I saw Hathaway, every muscle in my body tensed. After all, the love Manuel once had for her had been loud, fierce, and destructive. Manuel was the ultimate bad-boy heir of New York high society, and Hathaway had been the city’s most dazzling "it girl." Back when they were at their peak of young love, Manuel had gone so far as to sell off a dozen of his rare sports cars and custom bikes just to help the Miller family pay off their mounting debts. But even that couldn't stop the Miller empire from crumbling. Once the Millers went bankrupt, Hathaway blamed Manuel. She claimed he was useless because he couldn't drag her out of the abyss. They broke up, and rumor had it the split was incredibly toxic and messy. Later, Manuel met me through a mutual friend. It was love at first sight for me, though I knew a bit about his past with Hathaway. I had assumed Manuel wouldn't want to get into another relationship anytime soon. But at that charity gala, he had walked up to me, taken my hand, and shared a near-perfect waltz with me. After that, everything fell into place. We dated, got engaged, and made it to where we were today. But even so, seeing Hathaway made my stomach drop. She was a mess. Her clothes were disheveled, but she still carried a sort of tragic, ruined beauty. Her eyes were red from crying, making her look like a startled, helpless rabbit. She was the classic damsel in distress, a fragile doll that men just couldn't resist. Being the sensitive person I was, I instinctively reached out to hold Manuel’s hand. But in the next second, a cruel, mocking laugh escaped Manuel’s lips. "Well, well. Hathaway. What happened to you? Fallen on hard times?"
Manuel’s tone was incredibly harsh. Hathaway looked up, staring at him with wide, tearful eyes. She choked out his name in a trembling whisper: "Manuel..." The moment that name left her lips, I felt Manuel’s grip on my hand tighten painfully. He didn't say another word, his face darkening as he glared at her. From start to finish, Hathaway never once looked at me. Her tear-filled eyes were locked entirely on Manuel. "Manuel... some people threw me out of their car and left me up here..." "Can you please drive me down?" Her voice was barely a whisper, her shoulders shaking violently. If I were Manuel, I probably would have felt a twinge of pity. But Manuel didn't show any mercy. Instead, he sneered coldly, "So the great heiress of the Miller family has finally met her match? What, did you lose your legs? Can't walk down yourself?" The sky had gone completely dark, and Manuel's words were honestly borderline cruel. If he had spoken to any other girl like that, I would have scolded him. But the woman standing before us was Hathaway—the woman my fiancé had spent years in a passionate, toxic cycle with. Driven by selfish human nature, I chose to remain silent. Hathaway looked as if she might collapse at any moment. After a few agonizing seconds, she let out a shattered, hollow laugh. "You really hate me that much, don't you..." Manuel’s expression flickered. He squeezed my hand so hard it felt like my bones were going to crush. I let out a soft gasp of pain, which finally jolted him back to the realization that I was still standing right next to him.
I knew for a fact that Manuel had abandoned me because of how much he coddled his motorcycle. When we were setting up the tent in the afternoon, he had parked his bike right in the middle of the clearing directly in front of us. After she uttered that dramatic line about him hating her, Hathaway had quietly walked over to a nearby pine tree, curling her legs up to her chest. Manuel didn't say anything more. He quietly went about setting up the camp. He pitched the tent, set up the portable grill, and did all the heavy lifting without letting me lift a finger. He acted the part of the doting, deeply-in-love fiancé to perfection. But I could tell he was trying way too hard. It felt like a performance staged entirely for Hathaway’s benefit. A knot tightened in my chest, but since Manuel was doing everything perfectly, I could only swallow my unease and keep quiet. Manuel stayed inside the tent with me until dusk. By then, the wind had picked up, bringing a biting chill. I peeked out of the tent and saw Hathaway still huddled under the tree, shivering. This mountain wasn't that massive. If she had started walking down earlier, she would have reached the base by now. The fact that she was still here meant she was waiting on purpose. Unable to watch any longer, I grabbed a spare jacket and some energy bars, stepped out of the tent, and walked over to her. "The wind gets really cold at night, Miss Miller. You shouldn't freeze." I held the items out to her. She merely spared them a dismissive glance, refusing to take them. Instead, she looked up at me with a provocative smirk. "Do you really think he hates me?" I choked on my words. She was right. Manuel didn't hate her. If he did, I wouldn't have been feeling this mounting dread ever since she showed up.
Manuel and I had our engagement party a month ago. That night, Manuel had gotten absolutely wasted. It was the first time I heard him say Hathaway’s name. We had been together for two years, and I had always known she existed. But the Millers were ruined. She was no longer a high-society princess. She, Manuel, and I were no longer from the same world. Besides, when she left him, she had said some incredibly nasty things to crush his pride. So, I had never viewed her as a threat. Until the party ended, the crowd dispersed, and I was helping a drunken Manuel back to his place when I heard him mumbling. At first, it was just a low slurring: "We're engaged... we're finally engaged." I thought he was just overjoyed, so I gently ran my fingers through his hair with nothing but love in my heart. I asked him, "Are you really that happy to be engaged to me?" Manuel didn't open his eyes, nor did he answer. He just grabbed my hand, pressing frantic, desperate kisses against my fingertips. But just as my heart was melting, he whispered her name. "Hathaway... we're really over now, aren't we...?" "Why... why did you have to do this to me...?" "Chloe is great... I'm going to marry her... Don't you dare regret this..." Those whispered words felt like lightning striking my skull. My entire body went rigid. In our two years of dating, he had never once mentioned her name or his past. As his partner, I had always respected his boundaries and never pried, believing he had moved on. But it took him getting blackout drunk at our engagement party to finally spit out the truth. He hadn't forgotten her. He had just buried her deep in his chest. I didn't sleep at all that night. The next morning, Manuel woke up remembering absolutely nothing. After debating with myself, I decided to bury the incident. Firstly, we were already engaged. Over the last two years, the business ties between the Alexanders and my family had grown incredibly tight. A broken engagement would cause a massive, unnecessary PR disaster for both companies. Secondly, Hathaway was nobody now. Even if Manuel still had feelings for her, the chances of them getting back together were practically zero. But standing on this mountain, I realized how incredibly naive and foolish I had been. Their love hadn't been erased by time. If anything, the distance had only made it more agonizingly poetic. Even when Manuel spat venom at her, she still held the ultimate power over his heart. And I, from beginning to end, was nothing but a rebound. A joke. The freezing midnight wind seemed to penetrate my very bones. I was completely alone on this massive, pitch-black mountain, surrounded by the eerie rustling of the pine trees. At that moment, my heart turned completely to stone.
I went back into the tent to grab my phone, only to find it had died. Fumbling around in the dark, I realized the tent was practically cleared out. Even the spare jacket I had offered Hathaway earlier was gone—Manuel must have taken it. I couldn't help but laugh out loud. No wonder Hathaway didn't want my jacket. She was just waiting for Manuel to wrap his own around her shoulders. With nothing left in the tent, I used the faint moonlight to find a heavy, sharp rock nearby to keep with me for self-defense. This mountain was private property, belonging to some elusive billionaire. The billionaire was currently abroad, and since Manuel was a friend of his, he had gotten permission to bring me up here. Even though it was private property, there was no guaranteeing some creep wouldn't wander up here. Aside from the chirping of insects and the rustling leaves, there was no other sound. I huddled in the corner of the tent, my entire body shaking from the cold. I hadn't expected Manuel to be this heartless. He had left me with absolutely nothing but a hollow nylon tent. A cold chuckle escaped my lips. The last lingering thread of hope I had for Manuel snapped. Maybe I had been hurt too many times, because at this very moment, I felt strangely numb. Amidst the chaotic storm in my mind, only one thought became crystal clear: I was going to call off this engagement.
I stayed awake the entire night. Without my phone, I had no concept of time until the horizon began to bleed with faint gold light. Just like the rising sun, my mind slowly cleared and settled. As the sun fully emerged, flooding the sky with brilliant light, I felt a strange sense of rebirth. Exhaling a long breath of cold air, I stood up and began my trek down the mountain. Since Manuel had driven off with Hathaway, I had zero expectations of him returning for me. The trail wasn't particularly steep, but perhaps due to my lack of sleep and sheer exhaustion, it didn't take long before I started feeling incredibly weak and lightheaded. The paved road wound down in endless, dizzying loops. My steps grew heavier with each turn, and hot, angry tears finally started pouring down my face. My family hadn't always been wealthy, but my mother had never let me suffer or feel neglected. Manuel used to tell me he loved girls who were gentle, elegant, and composed. From that day on, I changed everything—my style, my speech, my manners—just to fit his ideal of a "perfect, elegant lady." Whenever he looked at me with approval, I thought we were building a beautiful life together. But now I knew it was all a pathetic, one-sided delusion. He had never loved me. The only person he truly cared about was Hathaway. I didn't know how long I had been walking. Dehydrated and starved, my body felt like lead. Gasping for air, I leaned against a tree trunk and slowly collapsed onto the dirt road. Just then, the low rumble of an engine caught my attention. A white SUV was driving up the winding road toward me. Desperate, I forced myself to stand up to wave for help. But the moment I stood, the entire world spun violently, and my vision went black.
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