After I Left, the Woman Who Once Rejected My Proposal Fell
Apart
Webtic
1
My childhood friend and my sister both fell in love with the new poor student, Clint.
One broke off her engagement to me, saying:
“Arland, a privileged young master like you isn’t someone I can handle.”
The other disregarded my mother’s dying words, claiming:
“Clint is so pitiful. Sharing half of the love I have for you with him isn’t asking too much, is it?”
On my birthday, my childhood friend chose to spend the day with Clint.
On the anniversary of my mom’s death, my sister decided to celebrate with Clint and his mother instead.
It was then that I understood–relationships with close family or friends were shallow in this life. Fighting for what I couldn’t keep was pointless.
While they accompanied Clint to New York to receive a design award,
I burned down the house that held memories of the three of us.
I disappeared from New York, faking my death,
But when news of my death reached New York,
the two women who had long cast me aside went mad with grief and rushed back overnight.
They knelt in front of the charred ruins of the house, crying uncontrollably.
That was the last time I brought up my engagement to Rachel.
The room went silent at first.
Then, seeing Rachel’s impatient expression, everyone burst into mocking laughter.
“What era are we living In? Arranged marriages are such outdated nonsense!”
“Is our proud young master Arland feeling insecure for once?”
I ignored the commotion and looked directly at Rachel, who was sitting on the sofa.
Her long, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders and faint marks were visible on her neck and
collarbone.
It felt like a needle piercing my heart, the pain slow and delayed.
“I was young and foolish back then. That’s the only reason I agreed to something so
ridiculous,” Rachel said, her tone indifferent and mocking.
She glanced at me lazily and added, “Arland, we’re adults now. Let’s leave the past behind.”
I stared at her, speechless, just as the door swung open.
Clint walked in wearing a waiter’s uniform, carrying a tray.
When he saw me, he flinched slightly and stammered,
“Bro–no, Mr. Arland.”
He quickly glanced at Rachel before mumbling, “Sorry, am I interrupting?”
He set the tray down and tried to leave, but Rachel suddenly knocked the items off the coffee table.
Glasses shattered, sending shards everywhere.
A piece of glass cut my arm, and blood began to drip, the pain sharp and stinging.
But Rachel didn’t even spare me a glance.
She stormed up to Clint, her face dark with anger
“Didn’t I tell you not to work anymore, Clint?”
Clint nodded obediently, his eyes reddening as he spoke softly.
“I just didn’t want to keep taking money from you and your sister.
You’ve already given me so much. I can earn my own living expenses…”
Rachel interrupted, “But it hurts me to see you like this. You’re a designer. Your hands are meant for holding a pencil, not doing this kind of work.”
She pulled off his vest and tossed it aside.
“You’re coming home with me now. If I ever catch you working again,
wherever you go, I’ll make sure that place is shut down.”
Then, she turned to glare at me.
“And if anyone dares bully him, don’t blame me for not showing mercy.”
I pressed my bleeding arm, meeting her gaze calmly amidst the chaos.
This club was owned by the Koch family, my familly.
Rachel thought Clint had taken this job because I was targeting him.
But the truth was absurd.
Clint, now adored and protected by Rachel and my sister,
was like a delicate and precious flower kept in a greenhouse.
He had access to unlimited funds.
Why would he degrade himself by working?
Even if I explained or brought in the manager to testify,
Rachel wouldn’t believe me.
To her, I was now the wicked supporting character,
the spoiled heir who bullied the kind and gentle protagonist.
Rachel stood protectively in front of Clint.
*Arland, someone like you isn’t worth my time.
As for the engagement, let’s just forget about it.
Her words silenced the room again.
Clint’s face went pale as he trembled slightly, clutching Rachel’s arm like he was drawing strength from her.
The people around us looked at me with wary expressions.
I suddenly found it funny.
Ever since Clint’s mother intruded on our family and Clint came between Rachel and me, thrown tantrums and acted out.
I had
After all, the affection that had once been exclusively mine was now showered unconditionally on Clint and his mother.
As a pampered young master, how could I tolerate that?
But all my efforts to push back only drove everyone closer to Clint.
Now, I was simply tired–completely exhausted.
“Fine,” I said, nodding calmly.
I took a few steps forward, and Rachel instinctively moved to shield Clint.
“Arland, if you want to do something, take it out on me,” she said.
I removed my hand from my injured arm and held it out.
My pale palm was smeared with bright red blood,
Rachel’s lips tightened, and for a moment, her cold, indifferent eyes seemed to waver.
