Everyone thought my decision was just a tantrum, that Julian and I would eventually make up.

But time passed quietly. I went to Wharton as planned, and Julian began taking over the Moretti family business.

We were like two parallel lines, never to cross again.

On the rare occasions I saw him at a family business gala, I would just lower my head and walk past quickly, our eyes never meeting.

Until one day, I was in line at a classic Italian bakery in New York, waiting to buy cannolis.

The August sun was brutal, beating down through the awning and making me dizzy.

I clutched my wallet, my back already soaked with sweat.

The line moved at a snail's pace. I was scrolling through business news on my phone when I heard a familiar voice.

"Evelyn!"

I looked up and saw Julian standing in front of me, holding a paper bag filled with several pastry boxes.

"It really is you," he said, his eyes lighting up. He casually slid into line next to me, as if there had never been a rift between us.

"It's been a while."

"Mhm," I murmured, not saying more.

But he was just getting started, talking as if to himself. "You know, the family business is a lot more complicated than I thought. The old-timers are a real pain in the ass. You used to help me break everything down. It's tough doing it alone."

His voice was a constant, grating drone in the stuffy bakery.

I listened in silence, my eyes fixed on the clerk behind the counter, willing the line to move faster.

"By the way," he said, stepping a little closer, "what are your plans after graduation?"

I didn't answer.

He didn't seem to mind, continuing on his own. "I want to legitimize the family business, become a real businessman. I'm thinking of expanding into Europe. I hear the market potential there is huge."

My fingers tightened around my wallet.

In my last life, he had said the exact same thing, his face beaming with excitement as he told me his plans to clean up the family name.

And for his dream, I gave up my education, used every resource and connection the Shaw family had to clear his path, and denied myself even a single decent evening gown.

And what did I get in the end?

A transatlantic phone call where he casually informed me, "Evelyn, I've fallen in love with someone else."

"What... are you smiling at?"

Julian stopped mid-sentence, looking at me with confusion.

I only then realized that thinking about the past had twisted my lips into a cold smile.

I looked away. "Nothing. It's my turn."

The clerk tapped impatiently on the counter, and I quickly handed over my credit card.

When I turned around with my box of cannolis, Julian was still there, looking like he planned to walk and talk with me all the way home.

I stopped and looked him directly in the eye, cutting off his next move before he could make it.

"I'm not interested in any of this. Go find someone who actually wants to listen."

His face froze. A second later, he was chasing me out of the bakery, his voice laced with anger. "Evelyn! I'm trying to talk to you! What the hell is this attitude?"

I didn't look back, just kept walking.

"Are you still pissed off about Sophia Blanco?" He cut me off, his cheeks flushed with rage. "I told you, that was a misunderstanding! How long are you going to keep this up?"

The sun was blinding. I squinted at him. "I'm not pissed."

"Then why are you..."

"Because I just don't care anymore," I interrupted him. My voice was quiet, but sharp enough to cut. "Give your business secrets to whoever you want. Talk to whoever you want. It has nothing to do with me."

His lips trembled slightly, and a flicker of something I'd never seen before crossed his eyes.

It looked like panic, maybe even hurt.

But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the familiar, arrogant mask I knew so well.

"Fine. Great. Evelyn... you're going to regret this!"

He spun around and stormed off, his leather shoes slamming against the pavement as if he were trying to crush his anger into the concrete.

I stood there, watching his back disappear into the distance, and suddenly remembered the last time I saw him in my past life.

It was on a private airstrip. Sophia was on his arm, and he boarded the plane without a single backward glance.

He never even looked back at the woman who had given him everything.

The cannoli box felt heavy in my hand. I took a deep breath and turned toward my apartment.

This time, I wouldn't be the one chasing him.