"James, I'm sorry, I…"
Ava's delicate, willow-leaf eyebrows furrowed, and her beautiful eyes glistened with unshed tears. She bit her lip, her voice as gentle and melodic as ever—a sound that, in the past, could make James forget all the sorrows of the world.
James was a man who lived up to his name—charismatic and handsome—yet at this moment, he stared in utter disbelief at the woman he had loved for exactly three years, two months, and eight days.
Ava, the saintly angel he had held on a pedestal, was now leaving him for another man. She was the one who had initiated the breakup.
Tears streamed down James's face uncontrollably. He knew that even if he begged on his knees, it would be futile. He understood the painful reality: once a woman's heart changes, nothing can hold her back—especially not a man like him, a penniless youth with nothing to offer but his own strength.
Yet, James couldn't bring himself to let go. This was a three-year romance, after all. He wiped away the tears, his voice trembling with a desperate plea: "Ava, is money really that important to you?"
"James, being with you in college… I was truly happy."
Ava frowned, her soft voice barely a whisper. "But now, I need to pursue my own happiness. Didn't you say that to truly love someone is to be willing to sacrifice for them?"
She was right. James had said those words to her during a romantic evening under the moonlight—a tender promise that had now been weaponized into the reason for her abandonment. The logic of her rejection struck him like a physical blow to the chest, leaving him breathless and silent.
The graduation ceremony was over. They had received their degrees, and four years of student life had ended with a chorus of "congratulations" and "goodbyes." Now, James faced the brutal reality of the job market—a common, daunting struggle for graduates in China, where the sheer volume of job seekers often outweighs available positions.
He was a young man from an orphanage, constantly haunted by the harsh, daily pressures of survival. He had been pounding the pavement for days, sending out nearly a hundred resumes, only to return home dejected and exhausted. Under the relentless summer sun, he had grown thin and bronzed, his confidence eroding with every rejection. He found himself wishing for the miracle of a lottery jackpot, though he cynically dismissed the idea of luck—to him, the world was too full of scams for anything to be truly free.
And it was in this cramped, rented room that Ava had delivered the final blow.
James was a poor boy, while Ava came from a middle-class family and had already secured a promising job. After a long, agonizing pause to process the news, his shock turned to burning anger. His voice shook as he asked, "Who is it?"
Ava hesitated, her ruby lips trembling. Only after James pressed her repeatedly did she finally confess, her voice thin as a mosquito's hum: "Henry."
"Henry? That playboy from the School of International Trade?"
James felt a hollow numbness in his chest. Henry had been his rival since their sophomore year. When Ava chose James—the handsome but penniless outsider—instead of the wealthy, flashy Henry, it had been a victory for love. Even after the rejection, Henry had never stopped pursuing her, though Ava had always refused his lavish gifts.
A fire of indignation roared inside James. He paced the room like a caged wolf, shouting, "You're really leaving me for that playboy?"
"I'm sorry, James. I know this isn't fair to you, but I really want a better life. Let's… let's just be friends."
Ava was sobbing now, her heart seemingly broken as well.
They spent the entire day arguing, but in the end, James could not sway her. He had believed that given their deep connection—three years without a single fight, including their final year living together—she would come to her senses. He was certain no one could love her as deeply as he did.
Yet, she remained firm. She was leaving for Tianhai City with Henry, leaving Donglai City behind forever.
The train was at 2:15 PM. Today was the day.
After their final, exhausting argument the night before, James had surrendered. He decided to act like a man who knew how to hold on and let go—to part ways with dignity. It was ironic; people often treat those they hurt with the casual request to "just stay friends."
James watched in silence as Ava packed the last of her belongings. This was the final glimpse he would have of her.
She was stunningly beautiful: large, clear eyes, soft lips, a refined, elegant nose, and a face that seemed carved from porcelain. She had a slender, graceful silhouette, with delicate arms, long legs, and an aura of youthful, feminine charm. She was the picture of grace.
He looked at her, tilting his head back to stop his tears. Through a blurred haze, he saw her glide toward him.
Ava raised her slender, jade-like fingers, gently wiping a tear from his cheek. "James, I love you. I really do. It's just that… we weren't meant to be."
"No… please, don't," James said, clenching his teeth to suppress his sobs. "Ava, I don't blame you. I only hate that I wasn't capable enough to give you the life you wanted."
"James, don't say that. It isn't your fault. We can still be friends. Let me play one last song for you."
With that, Ava walked to her suitcase, opened her violin case, and began to play. A mournful, soaring melody filled the tiny room.