Chapter 2

That night, I found myself huddled in a dingy room at a rundown hotel, consumed by resentment as I mulled over recent events. Jasper's behavior had crossed boundaries before.

I recalled discovering a lengthy strand of feminine hair on his sweater. Another time, I noticed a faint but undeniable lipstick mark on his tie.

Each instance, Jasper had a slick, seemingly credible excuse to evade blame.

Yet somehow, I always ended up feeling like an irrational, overly suspicious girlfriend.

But this incident? I wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily.

Exasperated, I turned to an online forum, posting: [My partner claims to love me, but can't resist flirting with others. How can I resolve this issue permanently?]

Responses came in swiftly.

Suggestions varied from genuine advice to outlandish plans, but one comment caught my attention.

A user called 'Sweet Orange' proposed:

Sweet Orange: [Give him a taste of his own medicine. Flirt with his closest friend. Do it openly—let him experience the sting of jealousy firsthand.]

Matching his tactics? Now that was an approach I could embrace.

Jasper had many friends, but none closer than Andrew Wallace. Known for his unwavering loyalty, Jasper placed complete trust in him. Andrew would be the ideal subject.

The following day, I arrived at Andrew's doorstep.

As he opened the door, I greeted him with a warm smile. "Hello Andrew. I haven't properly thanked you for your help last night. If you hadn't found me, who knows what might have happened. I'm truly grateful."

"I've brought something for you," I continued.

I retrieved a Rolex Submariner from my purse—an elegant, limited-edition timepiece worth thousands—and presented it to him.

Andrew was visibly astonished. "Charlotte, this... this is excessive. Are you certain?"

The watch had originally been intended for Jasper—a surprise gift he'd selected himself. But before I could give it to him, he'd gone and ruined everything.

Well, his misfortune.

I couldn't suppress a smirk at Andrew's bewildered expression.

"Friendship is invaluable, Andrew. It would mean a lot if you accepted it."

I picked up an orange from the fruit bowl on the counter, peeling it leisurely as I surveyed the room.

The living space was humble, to put it mildly. A small couch sat beside a single bed pushed against the wall. Nearby stood a simple clothing rack, overflowing with neatly ironed shirts. Unlike Jasper, Andrew had always been thrifty. His rural upbringing had taught him to be economical. Even with a decent income now, he lived modestly.

This apartment—a government-subsidized rental—was one Jasper and I had assisted him in finding years ago.

The space wasn't luxurious, but it was practical: a combined living area, kitchen, and bedroom.

"Wow, where did you get these? These oranges are quite tart," I grimaced and playfully popped a segment into Andrew's mouth. My fingertips grazed his lips lightly, causing him to flinch almost imperceptibly.

"By the way, it's your birthday tomorrow, right?" I asked nonchalantly, observing his reaction. "Should I bother showing up?"

"Of course, you should! Do you even need to ask?" Andrew replied, his tone suddenly earnest.

"You're my closest friend, Charlotte. Of course, you have to come. I expect you to be there. No, I insist."

Money truly could work wonders. One Rolex and the man was ready to bare his soul. I leaned back against the counter, discarding the orange peel in the trash.

"But, I don't want to see Jasper," I said, trying to sound indifferent.

"Are you planning to avoid him indefinitely?" Andrew's fingers toyed with the watch as he averted his gaze. But something in his tone suggested he wasn't pleased. "Don't deceive yourself, Charlotte. You can't simply erase him from your life."

His candor stung, but I chose to remain silent, rolling the orange in my hand like a stress ball.

The next day, when I assumed most guests had arrived at the party, I phoned Andrew.

"Hey, can you come pick me up?"

The celebration was at a seafood restaurant Andrew had chosen—a modest establishment with reasonable prices and generous servings.

Ten minutes later, his weathered sedan pulled up outside my temporary lodging.

As I slipped into the passenger seat, I noticed Andrew's eyes flicker towards me, then quickly away. His gaze lingered a moment too long on the neckline of my burgundy lace dress.

"It's snowing outside. Aren't you cold dressed like that?" he muttered, his tone half-disapproving.

I had selected my outfit carefully: the dress accentuated my figure perfectly and the faux fur jacket added just the right touch of sophistication. Paired with high-heeled boots, the look was daring, attention-grabbing and decidedly inappropriate for a snowstorm.

But that was precisely the intention.