He Forgot My Name, I Left

Chapter 3

Contrary to what I expected, there was no relief on Caspian's face.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice strained.

"Stop this, will you? Even if you keep wearing those light-colored dresses like before, I'll still recognize you. I'm not breaking up with you."

I let out a cold laugh and said nothing in return.

I thought of the collection of items related to Serena hidden in his closet, and all those times he'd cast me aside the moment she needed him.

Then I thought of Serena back in high school.

Always in white dresses with long hair.

Exactly the same look I'd spent 3 years carefully imitating, a cheap counterfeit.

Lost in thought, Caspian took my hand, his tone measured.

"Evelyn, after this I really will try to remember you, as long as you stay the way you were before."

I pulled my lips into a mocking smile, ready to throw his words back at him.

But his phone rang first. Predictably, it was Serena asking him to pick something up for her.

"Evelyn, wait here until I get back."

With that single sentence, Caspian turned and drove away.

For 3 years, whenever Serena called, he'd always been at her beck and call. Watching his car disappear from view, I felt a sense of relief instead.

Breaking up didn't require Caspian's agreement. All I needed to do was change my appearance.

In his eyes, I'd be nothing more than a stranger passing by.

All the paperwork for going abroad was complete. Once I wrapped up my work here, I could finally leave this city saturated with pain.

I'd just finished a small Restoration Showcase and was standing apart from the crowd, quietly packing up my toolkit.

Serena walked over, her voice lilting with soft laughter, each word dripping with mockery.

"Why bother, Evelyn? No matter how much you change your wardrobe or your style, Caspian still won't recognize you. It's all wasted effort."

Before I could respond, Caspian strode over.

Moments earlier, I'd twisted my ankle while stepping aside to avoid the crowd. The surface of my shoe had torn, and my ankle was swollen and flushed red, throbbing with pain.

His gaze swept over me as I tried to suppress my discomfort, but his eyes held only the perfunctory courtesy one might show a stranger. He didn't pause for even a moment.

His attention went straight to Serena standing beside me.

The exhibition organizers had just arrived with a haute couture art gown, intended as an award for an outstanding participant.

Caspian reached out and took it without hesitation, then turned and gently handed it to Serena. His voice was cool yet carried an unshakable bias.

"This dress suits you perfectly. Take it."

He turned his head and addressed the head of operations standing behind him, his tone cold and commanding.

"From now on, for every art exhibition, antiquities showcase, and resource affiliated with the Sterling family domestically, priority goes to my sister, Serena. Every single one of you needs to remember this face."

Each word rang out clearly, a public decree.

Eyes from all around turned on me, filled with mockery, pity, and voyeuristic curiosity, leaving me nowhere to hide.

The exhibition organizer stood there stunned, then stepped forward, attempting to speak on my behalf. "Mr. Sterling, this is Ms. Van."

Before he could finish, Caspian cut him off.

"What is she? Does she think she can compete with Serena for this dress?"

Caspian's voice carried just far enough that everyone in the hall heard him clearly.

"Some woman from who knows where, and she thinks she can be mentioned in the same breath as my sister?"

I'd recently had my hair done in chestnut curls and was wearing a vivid, striking gown unlike anything I'd worn before.

As expected, Caspian didn't recognize me.

I bit down hard, enduring the searing pain in my ankle, and silently gathered my toolkit. Step by step, I walked out of the noisy exhibition hall.

Outside, a sudden downpour began. Cold rain soaked through my hair.

So this was the result. Day after day, I'd accommodated his habits, maintained a uniform style of dress, kept the same hairstyle, deliberately aligned myself with his preferences, exhausting every effort just to make him look at me once more, to make him remember me even once.

In the end, no matter how many times I changed my appearance, adjusted my demeanor, or poured out my heart, in his eyes I would always be that extra, inconsequential passerby.