Chapter 4: The Last Gift

I paused, then forced a smile.

“Boyfriend, happy birthday.”

My excessive indulgence of Julian started right then. That’s on me.

My friends thought I was hopeless. They asked if I was under a spell.

I just smiled. In this life, everyone will have a love so reckless they won’t turn back until they hit a wall.

I knew he was venting over Sierra Lane. I was willing to indulge and tolerate Julian. Liking someone makes you soft, makes you compromise, gives them special privileges.

I’m willing to pay for my feelings—until they’re gone.

When that day comes, he’ll be nothing to me.

In Julian’s “let me see how much you like me” test—a dare, not a question—I once got a score.

It was the second year we were together, when I found out by accident that he really liked a script by a legendary screenwriter.

The male lead hadn’t been cast. Julian was a little popular, had some fame, but not enough to carry that kind of project—not even enough to audition.

I went to visit the writer.

On the sofa at his house, I smiled sweetly and pleaded: “Uncle Walter—a close family friend we’ve called ‘Uncle’ since I was a kid—please, I don’t want you to give him the role, just an audition. He’ll prove himself.”

He was a family friend, had watched me grow up, always doted on me. He picked up his mug calmly. “Monroe, batting your eyelashes won’t work, kiddo.”

I showed him a video I’d prepared—every role Julian had played since debut, plus behind-the-scenes footage. “Uncle Walter, please, just watch his acting and give him an audition. If you think he’s not right, I promise I won’t say another word.”

He couldn’t resist my pestering, and agreed.

I edited the video carefully, organizing Julian’s scenes by emotion. After he watched, I asked, “How about it?”

He nodded. “He’s got talent. Let him come audition.”

I was thrilled, but he warned me, “Monroe, love is wonderful, but too much affection isn’t good. When the moon is full, it wanes—too much of anything breaks.”

I pretended not to understand.

This audition was my 24th birthday gift to Julian.

He didn’t let me down—he got it.

Actually, I was just his stepping stone. If he had no talent, Uncle Walter wouldn’t risk his own script.

When I told Julian the news, I was nervous, because he hated getting opportunities from me. After I told him, he was silent. I’d already set up the audition—if he didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t know how to explain.

Luckily, after a long silence, he quietly said thank you.

He didn’t get the lead, but got another role.

A morally ambiguous villain, with a lonely background, devoted love unreturned by the heroine, betrayed by family and friends. More importantly, the original described his appearance: “He stood out among the crowd, a beauty unmatched.”

He told me, “Walter said he thought of that line when he saw me.”

I couldn’t hide my joy. “Julian, let’s go celebrate.”

He was probably in a good mood, and for once his tone was gentle. “Okay.”

The restaurant was beautiful, the lights dazzling. He looked like he’d stepped out of a painting. I asked if he liked my 24th birthday gift. He looked at me, at my smiling face.

Finally, he sighed. For the first time, he looked at me so gently. “I saw that video.”

“Monroe, thank you.”

“This is the best gift I’ve ever received.”

Great. Then stop looking at me like I robbed a bank.

When he was mean to me, I could handle it. When he was suddenly gentle, I didn’t know what to do. I could only look away, flustered for once.

I pulled myself together, then looked up at him with a wild grin. “Your best gift will always be the next one I give you. How do you know your 25th birthday gift won’t be even better?”

He looked at me, his eyes deepening. I saw my reflection in his eyes, small and bright, like the sun.

He looked at me for a long, long time, but said nothing, just barely lifted the corner of his mouth.

At the time, neither of us thought there wouldn’t be a 25th birthday gift.

That was the last gift I gave him.

In his “let me see how much you like me” test—a knife wrapped as a test—I eventually gave up and didn’t turn in my paper.

Before I gave up, our relationship briefly improved. After the show aired, he became hugely popular.

He even won Best Supporting Actor for that role.

It was just supporting, but his popularity far outshone the lead.

Great acting, good looks, humble personality, high emotional intelligence, and a degree from NYU—he finally let everyone see him.

I was happy for him, but also felt complicated.

Because he gained too many fans who imagine they’re his girlfriend—girlfriend stans.

His fans hated me. They started a mega-thread on a fan forum just to bash me, with more followers than some boy bands.

Every day, I got flooded with insults and obscene photos in my DMs on Insta.

But it didn’t matter. I had money, power, and influence.

I had people mute and ban accounts—filters, blocks, the works. Anything I didn’t like, I’d never see.

I was arrogant and willful. After banning so many, even his fans got tired.

“Heh, so what if she’s rich, pretty, and powerful. Let her chase him—he doesn’t like her anyway.”

“When will Julian and Queen Bee break up?”

“I heard Monroe forced him to be with her. Back then he had no one, but now it’s different. We’re his confidence.”

“Yeah, this Queen Bee is arrogant and shameless. How could he like a woman like her.”