Part 3
I met Amanda back in college.
She was quite the well-known figure on campus.
Having grown up with her mother after her parents' divorce, Amanda's childhood was marked by a lack of strict discipline. Her mother, busy with work, focused more on providing her with material comforts than emotional guidance.
As a result, Amanda grew spoiled, willful, and nearly impossible to approach. Few people wanted anything to do with her, and I was no exception.
She was the kind of student who left teachers pulling their hair out, so naturally, I kept my distance.
But for some reason—perhaps it was because I was the model student, the kind of guy everyone admired—Amanda took an interest in me.
She'd invite me to meals in every possible way, and on weekends, she'd take me on drives. Her gifts were relentless, pouring in for every holiday and occasion.
Despite my repeated rejections, she remained persistent.
Curious, I once asked her why she was so determined.
Her answer was simple, but it struck me hard.
"Because you're a good person."
"Everyone else either looks down on me or wants to take advantage of me, but you're different."
"I just want a normal friend."
That moment of vulnerability in her voice tugged at my heartstrings.
I thought, maybe everyone misunderstood her.
Her defiance and rebelliousness weren't a sign of arrogance but of someone hiding behind armor, someone who was, at her core, soft and eager for connection.
With that thought, I smiled at her and nodded.
"Alright, from today, I'll be your friend. By the way, my name's Lucas."
Amanda smiled, and for the first time, I realized how beautiful it could be when a girl smiled while fighting back tears.
...
From that day on, we became the best of friends.
We studied together, spent hours in the library, and took long walks across campus.
She'd also take me out of school to race cars, ride horses, and ice skate.
My friends thought I'd lost my mind, and even my professors warned me to stay away from this "bad influence."
Everyone assumed Amanda was just playing around with me, that once she'd had her fun, she'd move on.
But I could see she was serious.
The more I spent time with her, the more I felt the need to protect her.
Despite her wealth, Amanda was incredibly lonely.
She had never known a father, and not a single true friend had stood by her side.
She deserved to be loved.
For her, I even gave up my opportunity for a graduate school recommendation, choosing instead to graduate alongside her.
Amanda was deeply grateful and invited me to work at her mother's company.
It was through this invitation that I first met her mother, a renowned businesswoman in her own right.
In the warmth of their mansion in the suburbs, Amanda's mother took my hand, her eyes filled with tears.
"Lucas, thank you for always being there for Amanda. I can see that she really likes you."
"I've failed her as a mother. Please, stay by her side. I just want her to be happy."
She was a remarkable woman.
I couldn't refuse a mother's heartfelt plea for her daughter.
And since I had genuine feelings for Amanda, I accepted her invitation and stayed at her company.
But later, I found out that Amanda's mother had been diagnosed with late-stage liver cancer.
She knew her time was running out, and the only thing she worried about was her beloved daughter.
On her deathbed, she called me to her side, held my hand, and repeated over and over again:
"Please, take good care of her. She needs you."
After I promised, she passed away with a peaceful smile.
In honor of her mother's final wish, I married Amanda.
Amanda, though the CEO on paper, didn't care much for the demands of the job. Almost all the major decisions in the company were left to me.
I didn't mind—at the time, I loved her deeply.
Whenever I'd work late, exhausted and on the brink of collapse, she'd gently massage my shoulders and whisper sweet words in my ear.
"Baby, you've worked so hard."
She'd reassure me, "Don't worry. When you can't keep going, I'll protect you. No one will ever hurt you."
But now, she was the one who had hurt me the most.