Four Years Of Dignity, Only Deserved His Cold Verdict

At the end of the college mixer, only the campus heartthrob, myself, and a very drunk girl remained in the lounge.

The remaining crowd, eager to play matchmaker, proposed a final game: whoever guessed Johns favorite fruit would be paired up with him for the upcoming week-long camping trip.

I pretended not to care, stepping back to let the other girl choose first.

When I saw her holding a half-burnt cigarette, lazily pointing her finger toward the bowl of mangoes, a quiet wave of relief washed over me.

John was severely allergic to mangoes.

Everyone in our circle knew this, and all eyes instantly turned to me. The room erupted into eager teasing.

"The golden boy and the campus sweetheart, its a match made in heaven!"

My best friend leaned in, whispering her congratulations. "Four years of a secret crush, and you finally get your happy ending."

But in the next second, Johns smooth, quiet voice broke the noise.

"What a coincidence."

He opened his hand, turning his gaze toward the drunk girl with an unfamiliar tenderness. "My choice just happened to be mango, too."

The girl was still deeply intoxicated.

Without warning, she swung her hand and slapped John across the face.

"So you chose mango, big deal. Why the hell are you standing so close to me?"

The slap echoed sharply through the quiet room.

The entire lounge went dead silent. After all, John was the golden boy of our department, someone who had casually turned down major modeling scouts in his sophomore year.

A bright red handprint was already blooming on his pale, handsome cheek.

One of his fraternity brothers rushed forward to de-escalate. "John, don't take it to heart. Roxy goes to the local community college down the road. She smokes, she drinks, she races, shes a wild card. Shes not targeting you, shes just completely wasted."

Someone else tried to nudge me toward him, giving John a subtle wink.

"Amy is still waiting for you. Come on, we agreed this mixer was to get everyone paired up..."

"Roxy," John said, ignoring them entirely. He leaned down slightly, speaking to the girl in a soft, coaxing tone usually reserved for a child. "The others suggested that whoever guessed my favorite fruit would be my partner for the trip."

"You chose mango."

"And as it turns out, mango is my favorite."

He stood in the dim light of the lounge, wearing a crisp white shirt and dark trousers. His handsome features were calm, almost detached, but the tight line of his jaw betrayed his inner tension.

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing.

After a long pause, his voice sounded strained and slightly hoarse. "So, starting tonight, you are my girlfriend."

I stood frozen in place.

I stared at his profile, a sudden, heavy confusion pressing on my chest. I couldn't stop myself from asking the one question on my mind.

"John... aren't you allergic to mangoes?"

The moment the words escaped my lips, a pang of regret hit me.

Asking that now made it sound as though I were demanding to know why he hadn't chosen me.

I quickly averted my eyes, clearing my throat to regain a sense of composure. "I mean, its not really a secret. Most people in our year know about it."

Gemma, my best friend, immediately caught my drift and chimed in to support me.

John finally looked away from the drunk girl, his gaze cool and indifferent as he glanced at me. "I'm not allergic anymore. Is it a crime to like mangoes now?"

He looked back at Roxy, his tone softening. "Besides, I chose my fruit and put it in my pocket a minute before either of you made your choice. Since we agreed to play, we should all follow the rules of the game."

Roxy blinked, her eyes clearing slightly as she seemed to sober up.

She reached up, pinching Johns cheek with a lazy smile. "Alright then, boyfriend."

I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat.

Forcing a polite smile, I turned on my heel. "Of course. That means for tomorrow's couples' rowing race, I'll just form a solo team."

It wasn't until we reached the parking lot that Gemma finally let out her frustration, grabbing my arm. "If I had known, I would have told you to choose mango! You've had a crush on him for four years, and this was your chance..."

"It wouldn't have mattered," I replied quietly, a dull ache settling behind my eyes. "Earlier, Johns jacket was draped over my bag. When I lifted it to get my things, I noticed the pockets were incredibly heavy."

Under Gemmas shocked expression, I took a deep breath, a bitter smile touching my lips.

"He had put one of every single fruit from the table into his pockets."

He didn't suddenly develop a love for mangoes.

He had simply decided that whatever Roxy chose, he would match it.

After Gemma helped me into a cab, she headed back to the lounge.

With graduation just around the corner, our senior class had organized this week-long camping trip specifically to bring people together. The rule of the trip was simple: if a couple felt a spark after seven days, they stayed together; if not, they parted ways without any hard feelings.

Gemma had gone to great lengths to get paired up with her crush, even buying drinks for the entire organizing committee to secure her slot. I couldn't let my own disappointment ruin her week.

By the time I unlocked the door to my apartment, my rational mind had slowly returned.

Lying on the sofa of my quiet, comfortable living room, a dark thought crept into my mind.

Was this some kind of cosmic retribution?

Because of the secret, less-than-respectable way I used to make money when I was desperate, was I now destined to never find real love?

During my freshman year, when I was at my poorest, I had taken on a very unusual gig.

At first, it was simple: ten thousand dollars just to deliver a slap.

But as the weeks went by, the anonymous client's requests escalated. He wanted me to pin him down, to choke him, and to hit him. The pay rose to fifty thousand dollars per session.

I wanted to refuse.

But the money was simply too life-changing for a girl from a rural town who was living with distant relatives and counting every penny.

And so, my double life began. By day, I was the quiet, hardworking model student on campus. By night, I let my hair down, wore a thick black mask, and went to a secluded apartment to fulfill a stranger's dark impulses.

This arrangement lasted for over six months, allowing me to save enough to buy this very apartment and secure my college tuition.

Just as I was trying to figure out how to gently end the arrangement, the client vanished.

His profile on the encrypted app went dark and never lit up again.

Worried that something had happened to him, I went to the apartment one last time. The place was empty, but on the threshold of the door, I found a single, heavy black-and-gold bead.

It had rained heavily that day.

And just like that, my strange connection with a man I had never truly seen came to an abrupt end.

I shook my head, trying to banish the memories that still made my cheeks burn.

I reminded myself that whatever happened in that room was a mutual transaction. I hadn't done anything wrong.

Besides, there was no rule stating that because you love someone in secret, they have to love you back. John was free to choose whoever he wanted.

I just needed to learn to let him go.

But despite my practical thoughts, I spent the night crying, flipping through the old journal filled with his name.

In the end, I still couldn't bring myself to throw it away.

The next morning, everyone gathered at the departure point looking polished and excited.

I was the only one wearing oversized sunglasses that covered half my face.

One of our classmates teased me as we waited. "Amy, what kind of guy are you actually into? So many people have tried to ask you out over the last four years, but you've never given any of them a chance."

Before I could think of a polite answer, a loud laugh from the parking lot drew everyone's attention.

Roxy, her hair dyed a vibrant red, was skipping alongside John, clinging tightly to his arm.

"Matching tattoos!" she cooed, tugging at his sleeve. "Don't you think that would be so cool?"

John carried his duffel bag over one shoulder, looking relaxed and completely devoted. He smiled down at her. "Only if you promise me that when this week is over, we don't break up."

Roxy gave a playful pout and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her bag.

Under the watchful eyes of our classmates, John quietly produced a lighter and shielded the flame as he lit it for her.

Whispers immediately broke out around me.

"Is he serious? It was bad enough that she crashed the party last night, but is he really going to let her smoke right by the bus?"

"Shes a mess. I don't get what John sees in her. Everyone was trying to set him up with Amy last night. They actually make sense together, both top of the class, both decent people..."

I adjusted my sunglasses, preparing to board the bus.

But Gemma couldn't keep quiet. She called out toward Roxy, her voice sharp. "There's no smoking near the vehicles!"

The rest of our classmates quickly muttered their agreement, their expressions turning disapproving as they looked at John.

The atmosphere grew incredibly tense.

Roxy tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she walked straight toward Gemma.

"And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?"

Looking at the glowing tip of her cigarette, a cold memory surfaced.

I remembered the days when girls like her used to corner me in the alleyways behind my high school. Roxy had spent time in juvenile detention when she was fifteen. She was the kind of person who didn't care about consequences.

I stepped in front of Gemma, blocking Roxy's path. "Shes right. Smoking near a commercial bus is a safety hazard. If you don't understand basic rules, I can easily call the campus security to explain them to you."

Roxy seemed surprised that I, usually the quietest person in the room, was standing up to her.

"We're not taking the bus anyway," John interrupted coldly, his gaze sliding over me with an unfamiliar aloofness. "This is still a public parking lot. I don't think the smoking ban applies to your personal space, Amy."

His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

It felt entirely foreign. Over the past four years, we had co-hosted dozens of university events together, and he had always been nothing but gentle and polite.

Under the hot morning sun, I knew my face must have gone pale.

"Wow," Roxy sneered, stepping closer and blowing a thick cloud of smoke directly into my face. "And here I thought you had actually grown a spine. You're still the same pretty, useless coward you were in high school."

With John watching, she flicked the half-lit cigarette bud directly at my bare legs.

I jumped back to avoid the hot ash.

Roxy burst into a loud laugh, grabbing Johns hand and pulling him toward a waiting rideshare car in the opposite direction.

My phone buzzed with a text from my buildings manager just as I settled into my seat on the bus.

Do you still want the cardboard box left outside your door?

My fingers hovered over the screen.

I thought of the journals I had spent the night reading, and the small birthday gifts John had given me over the years. This morning, I had hesitated, leaving the box in the hallway instead of throwing it into the chute.

But remembering his cold eyes in the parking lot, I didn't hesitate any longer.

No, it's just trash. Please throw it away for me. Thank you.

A multi-car accident on the mountain pass delayed the buses for several hours.

By the time we reached the lake, the sun had already set.

The planned afternoon rowing race had to be postponed to the following morning, but the group remained in high spirits, gathering around the fire pits for a late-night barbecue.

Throughout the evening, I made a conscious effort to keep my distance from John and Roxy.

But as I was carrying a tray of grilled vegetables back to our table, Roxy stepped directly into my path, her chin tilted up.

"Hey. I heard you submitted a resume to Vanguard Corp."

I didn't want to engage. I tried to step around her. "Excuse me."

"Withdraw it," Roxy said, grabbing my wrist with surprising force. A mocking smile played on her lips. "You do know that Vanguard is owned by Johns family, right?"

I pulled my arm back, annoyed. "Vanguard is one of the top marketing agencies in the city. Half our graduating class applied there. Are you saying none of us are allowed to work?"

I gave her a polite, dismissive smile. "I've already received my offer, and my start date is next month. I won't be withdrawing anything."

"Don't act so innocent!" Roxys voice rose, drawing the attention of the surrounding tables. "Are you really that desperate to stay close to John?"

Seeing that she had an audience, her tone became more theatrical. "Everyone has been calling you two the perfect couple for years, so I get why my presence upsets you. But the truth is, he never looked at you once in four years. He chose me after knowing me for a few days."

"If you want to prove you're not trying to steal him, you'll stay away from his family's company."

A hot flush of embarrassment crept up my neck.

Just as I opened my mouth to respond, Roxys heel seemed to catch on the gravel.

With a dramatic gasp, she tumbled backward, crashing straight into one of the side tables.

John was by her side in an instant, dropping the plates he was holding.

He pushed past me, his movements fluid and urgent as he caught Roxy before she hit the ground.

Once he saw she was unhurt, he let out a visible breath of relief.

"She pushed me!" Roxy cried, clinging to his shirt. "I told you she hated me!"

"It's alright," John whispered, gently brushing her hair away from her face before turning to face me.

He stood up, looking down at me in silence for a long moment.

"It wasn't me," I said, looking down at my own leg, which had been scraped against the edge of a chair during the scurry. "I didn't..."

"I know you didn't," John said, his voice entirely calm.

I looked up, surprised by his words, only to hear him continue.

"But the fact that Roxy is willing to hurt herself just to frame you shows how much your presence distresses her."

He paused, his eyes falling to the scratch on my leg. He seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second before his voice turned cold again.

"I know Vanguard was your dream job, Amy. But..."

He looked away. "I've already called my father. Your job offer at Vanguard has been rescinded."

Before I could even process the words, John turned back to Roxy, lifting her up.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

I didn't care about keeping up appearances anymore. I limped forward, fully intending to slap him across the face.

But as I drew closer, I heard him speaking to Roxy in a low, gentle tone.

"If something is bothering you, just tell me. Don't hurt yourself to get my attention, alright?"

He took off his light jacket, draping it over her shoulders.

Under the dim lights of the patio, as his shirt lifted slightly with the movement, I caught sight of his midriff.

Right there, on his abdominal muscles, was a small, distinct dark mole.

It was in the exact same spot, the exact same size, as the one on the man from five years ago.

My breath caught in my throat.

Then, John reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy beaded bracelet made of black and gold beads, missing a single piece. He placed it in Roxy's hand.

"Back then, my family found out about my condition and forced me to go abroad for treatment before I could say goodbye to you. I left that single bead at the door, hoping it would lead me back to you one day."

"I was lucky. During our last session, you dropped your high school name tag at the apartment. Thats how I knew your name was Roxy, and how I finally found you."

Roxy looked at the bracelet, a flicker of confusion crossing her face.

Gemma, who had rushed over to defend me, stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the beads in John's hand.

She looked at the bracelet, then turned her eyes to me, her voice filled with surprise.

"Wait... Amy, isn't the bead you keep in your velvet box exactly like the ones on that bracelet?"