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Faris Hanson’s father ran a securities company and was a wealthy young master, so money was no object.

Initially, Purple Summers wanted to decline, but her classmates cajoled her. Somehow, it evolved into a class-wide activity.

Everyone was planning enthusiastically, vowing to make Faris foot the bill after the mock exam.

The high school curriculum was intensive and, with final exams looming near, the students had to face various tests. Going out to eat was essentially a plan to relax a bit.

Purple knew this, and reluctant to spoil their fun, she decided to go along with them.

Throughout the afternoon, Purple was absent-minded, lost in a daze.

Upon returning home, she stopped at her room’s door, realising that she had been living in Alexander Summers’ room all this while.

…It’s time to move back.

She needed to return to where she ought to be.

Purple began packing her things- -her clothes, bedding, pillow- -and brought them back to her room, piece by piece.

As Atra Blanc passed by and saw her, she said, “Oh, you’re switching rooms?”

“Mm, I prefer staying in my original room.” Purple’s smile was faint, so faint it could be overlooked.

After moving all her belongings back, Purple sat silently by her bed, lost in her thoughts.

There were many things she hadn’t considered in the past but now, when she thinks back, she realises there were countless warning signs.

She had witnessed Alexander speaking French on the phone twice.

Although she couldn’t ascertain the content of the conversations, the inherently soft tone of the French language was suggestive, like whispering sweet nothings.

This fiancee wasn’t sudden, she had always existed.

When he had pinned her to the bed, he was already committed to another woman…

How ironic…

She damned Jade Carlson for meddling in her marriage, while she herself unknowingly became the same kind of person – –

A fallen, shameful… mistress.

Purple also remembered when Alexander had learnt to cook for her. He had learnt earnestly, the flavour of his dishes was good, but… why did he choose French cuisine? Was it because his fiancee was French, and he was more familiar with French food?

And the last time they took photos, they captured campus life, couple outfits, even sweet moments of their supposed married life; but why not a wedding dress?

…Could it be that he never intended to marry her?

Just like their villa, hidden in the desolate mountains, it mirrored their relationship… clandestine and shameful.

What was she to him? Was she just a kept woman?

She couldn’t bear to think any further…

The more she thinks about it, the more it hurts.

Purple closed her eyes, her body trembling.

A sense of shame germinated at the pit of her stomach, engulfing her entirely, bringing with it a suffocating pain as though she was drowning.

Injustice, anger, regret, remorse… She was crushed and tormented by a wave of negative emotions, feeling utterly filthy!

Alexander had a fiancee. He would get married, have children, become someone else’s husband and father. She could not allow herself to sink into such an embarrassing situation. She had to extricate herself from this man!

Get away from him!

Even a moment would be unbearable!

Purple unlocked her phone and began scrolling through those sweet photos. Now, they all reeked of pretentious hypocrisy no matter how she looked at them.

She wanted to delete them but felt it unnecessary, as the phone was initially given to her by Alexander.

Purple placed her phone gently on the table, removed the key to the villa nestled on the mountainside, and the gun Alexander had given her. She didn’t want anything that was his.

As she turned to leave, she paused, undoing the necklace around her neck, and placed it amongst the rest of his things.

Purple then exited the room.

The moment she closed the door, the click of the lock echoed in her ears, as if a door within her heart had also… clicked shut.