When My Love Was Rated, I Said No

Chapter 2

Grant stood and went to the study to organize his meeting notes. After two steps, he stopped, but he did not turn around.

"Clara's birthday is next week. She likes Juniper Lane Bakery on the East End. Go early tomorrow and wait in line. Get her the sea salt caramel cake she loves." He paused briefly before adding, "Make sure you use the insulated cake carrier."

I looked up at him. "That place doesn't take preorders. The wait is always long."

A trace of impatience entered Grant's voice. "Then get up earlier. Stop complaining about everything."

The study door closed. The living room fell silent until all I could hear was my own breathing.

I stared blankly at the digital thermometer on the coffee table. The number on the screen was still climbing, until it finally stopped at 102.6 degrees.

I picked up my phone and opened the bakery's page. The average wait time listed there was three and a half hours.

In seven years, Grant had never once waited in line for me. He had always called it a pointless waste of time.

Yet the hand-drawn wish board he had made for Clara Wells held one hundred plans. No matter how much time he spent on those things, none of it counted as waste.

By evening, the fever still had not broken.

I went to the pharmacy for cooling gel patches, then stopped by the convenience store and grabbed a microwavable mac and cheese cup for dinner.

Just as I reached the entrance of our apartment complex, rain started to fall.

I called Grant.

The phone rang for a long time before he finally picked up. "What is it?" His voice was cold.

"It's raining. Can you come meet me at the gate? I don't have an umbrella."

Silence stretched on the other end.

"I'm helping Clara revise her resume right now. She has an important interview tomorrow." Then he added, "Just run back. You won't get that wet."

He hung up.

I stood beneath the convenience store awning and watched the rain come down harder.

Water hammered against the asphalt, sending up dense white spray.

June rain should not have felt that cold against my skin. But I was shaking from head to toe.

I clenched my phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

Then I ran into the rain and let it soak me to the bone. It was not as if anyone would care when I got home.

By the time I got home, I was drenched. My clothes clung to my body, and water dripped from my hair, pooling on the entryway tiles.

The living room light was on.

Grant was sitting on the couch with his laptop on his knees, still on a video call.

A bright woman's voice floated from the screen.

"Grant, what do you think of this layout? I used the color scheme you suggested last time."

It was Clara.

Grant looked up when he heard the door open. His eyes landed on me. His gaze paused on my soaked clothes for exactly one second.

Then he turned back to the screen and said warmly, "Overall, the layout looks good. The wording in the third paragraph could be more polished. You should highlight your core strengths more clearly there."

Not a single "You're soaking wet."

Not a single "Go change."

I stood in the entryway and looked at the rainwater dripping from my clothes onto the floor.

Then I walked across the cold tiles and into the bathroom. When the hot water poured over me, my tears finally fell.

I had given Grant seven full years, the brightest years of my life.

I first met him in the university computer lab when I was 18, and now I was already 25.

Back then, he was a senior in the Department of Computer Science, and I was a freshman in the School of Design.

At the freshman welcome party, he sat beside me. He did not look at the stage once. He spent the entire event coding on his laptop.

I was certain he had not noticed me at all.

But when the event ended, he suddenly spoke to me.

"You clapped 36 times. That is 40 percent above the room average. Your emotional feedback mechanism is highly active."

At the time, I thought that was his strange way of flirting with me.

Looking back now, I finally understood. From the very beginning, Grant had only ever seen me as a data sample.