Eleven Years of a Quiet Crush

This winter in Riverdale was unusually cold. Though it was only early November, light snow had already begun to fall under the gray sky. Fitting, really. Bad weather matched a bad reunion with an ex. Elena Summers stepped out of the car, holding an A4-sized box in one arm. She shut the door with a thud and walked straight into the private room at the far end of The Ivy Club. Pushing open the door, she saw Noah Hart was already there. He still looked the same as she remembered—dressed in a loose white sweater, sitting under the soft, warm light that made him look especially gentle. It was hard to believe someone so gentle could be so cruel. Noah stood up, his gaze pausing briefly on her. "Long time no see." Elena approached. His voice sounded dry, hesitant. "What would you like to drink? I—" She cut him off. "I'm just here to return these." She placed the box on the table—neither lightly nor heavily. Back then, he had left too suddenly. They never even settled the things that should've been returned. Noah’s eyes fell on the yellow box. It probably held all the gifts he'd once given her. "I can explain what happened back then..." "No need," Elena looked straight at him. "I'm married now." Their eyes met. In Noah’s gentle gaze, a sharp glint flickered. "So what?" His tone was dismissive, as if that fact didn’t matter at all. Elena replied calmly, "I came today to make things clear. Please don’t contact me again. Otherwise, my husband won’t be pleased." There was a moment of silence. "Does he treat you well?" Noah asked quietly. "My husband treats me very well." "Does he?" His eyes seemed to see right through her. Elena didn’t want to argue. She turned to leave. But he suddenly grabbed her wrist. "But you don’t love him." He stepped in front of her, voice low and rough. "Ellie, we were together for so long. You can’t fool me." She froze slightly. Noah was her first love. They dated for four years during college. Unfortunately, her family never approved. At the time, Noah had nothing to his name, while her family had already chosen a fiancé for her—Julian Carter, heir to the Carter Group. Elena truly loved Noah back then—enough to defy her family and plan to elope with him. But on the day of their escape, she waited at the airport from morning till night. He never came. Not a word. His phone never connected. Snow fell that night. She stood helplessly outside the terminal, shivering, searching. That was when Julian appeared. "He left for the U.S.," he told her. "One million or you. He chose the money." Soon after, the Summers family’s real estate business hit a financial crisis. Only the Carter Group’s investment kept them afloat. And she, naturally, married Julian Carter. Four years later, Noah returned from the U.S. a successful entrepreneur, now running a billion-dollar company. Three days ago, he asked to meet. She knew she shouldn’t have come. When they married, Julian made it clear—he wouldn’t pursue her past, but from then on, she belonged to him. That was his condition to help the Summers family. But somehow, she had never fully let go of the way Noah left without a word. Like a movie cut off before the ending, always lingering in her mind. Maybe that’s just how women are—obsessed with proper closure. She came today to return his things and cut ties once and for all. She didn’t expect him to still have the audacity to speak like that. Elena yanked her hand free coldly. "Love or not, he’s still my husband. I came to see you with a clear conscience." Noah stared at her closely, watching every flicker of emotion. "If you’re so clear of conscience, would you dare tell Julian you met me?" She didn’t answer. She yanked the door open and left without looking back. A red light blinked on a surveillance camera in the hallway. · Outside, the snow had thickened. Back in the car, Elena got a call from her father. "Ellie, when will Julian be back from his trip? Bring him home for dinner. It’s been a while." "The day after tomorrow," she replied calmly. "I’ll ask if he’s free." Her father nagged, "Ellie, you should take better care of Julian. Don’t let him travel so much. It’s time to have a child, that’s what matters." He had been saying the same thing for four years. She gave a few perfunctory replies and hung up. In this marriage, the choice of having a child was not hers to make. Night had fallen. The snow was getting heavier. She suddenly remembered the night Julian picked her up at the airport—it had also snowed like this. When she returned to their home in Emerald Hills, the house was dark. But a faint scent of tobacco lingered in the air. Startled, she looked up. A dim red light flickered in the shadows. The lights came on. Julian stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, wearing a navy suit and gold-rimmed glasses. Two buttons of his white shirt were undone, and the cigarette in his hand had a long ash. He looked at her. "You look surprised. Did you do something behind my back?" His tone was cold. She couldn’t tell if he was joking. Heart racing, she said, "No. I thought you’d be back the day after tomorrow. That’s what your assistant said." "That was the plan." He walked over, stubbed out the cigarette on the coffee table, sat down, and leaned back. "Come here." He didn’t explain why he returned early, and she didn’t ask. She had no right to. In this marriage, her role was to please him and keep the Summers family’s dignity intact. She put down her car keys and was about to change shoes when she heard him again. "Leave them on." She bit her lip and walked over in her heels. He reached out and pulled her into his lap. The smell of tobacco clung to him—he must’ve smoked a lot. She glanced at the ashtray. Dozens of cigarette butts lay scattered inside. "Are you… in a bad mood?" She’d never seen him smoke so much. He didn’t answer. She immediately regretted asking. He tilted her chin. His wife was indeed beautiful—porcelain skin, striking features, fox-like eyes that could seduce without trying. "Where did you go?" Her heart pounded. "Met an old classmate." "Male or female?" "Female, of course." In four years of marriage, she didn’t know Julian well, but she knew he was possessive. She could never tell him she’d met Noah. "Is that so." He chuckled softly, then pulled her onto the couch, brushing her hair aside and touching the back of her neck with cool fingers. She had one request: lights off. Julian didn’t love her. She knew that. Because every time this happened, it felt like humiliation. Still, at least he liked her body. Maybe because he was upset, he was rougher than usual. Afterward, he turned on a floor lamp, tossed a blanket on her, and walked off. He looked neat—just missing his suit jacket. She, however, lay there completely spent, limbs bare and aching. Sweaty, sore, and deeply uncomfortable. At one point, she didn’t feel well, but endured it. She glanced sideways at the messy floor. They would never have children. Julian always took precautions. That was, perhaps, his greatest virtue—responsibility. At least she didn’t have to take pills. He came out of the shower, turning on the chandelier. She was still on the couch. He looked at her. "Not showering yet?" She wrapped herself in the blanket and got up. This damned man—always so cold afterward. Couldn’t even let her rest a little longer. She walked toward the bathroom, moving awkwardly. Suddenly, he reached out and pulled her in. He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Did I hurt you?" She bit her lip. Of course he had. Was he blind? But she swallowed it. "I'm fine." Julian unexpectedly picked her up. She froze. He said blandly, "I’ll carry you to the bath."