Love Ends One Day

Samson waited six years for his first love to return.

He said without hesitation, "Margot, we're done."

Later, I left for good.

He searched for me like a man possessed.

But the person who once adored him was long gone.

1

Samson hadn't set foot in the apartment for nearly two weeks. That day, he showed up out of the blue.

I was shocked and thrilled. "Samson, you're back?"

He held a document and gave me a fleeting glance.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm just here for a file." He turned and left, leaving only a cold silhouette.

His belongings in the apartment dwindled. The already quiet place felt emptier than ever.

The day Rachel returned, Samson didn't hesitate. "Margot, we're done. Rachel's back, and I won't let her feel slighted."

To protect Rachel, he transferred me to another department without a second thought.

In less than two weeks, they were the golden couple everyone envied.

I became the office joke, the discarded mistress.

A shameful sidepiece.

When Rachel left Samson years ago, I poured everything into getting close to him.

To stay by his side, I switched majors and crammed financial knowledge. I graduated top of my class and joined his company as his sharpest assistant.

People called me crazy.

The moment Samson saw me, he smirked. "Margot, you're like a bad rash that won't go away."

I swallowed my tears and said stubbornly, "Then I'll be that rash, sticking to you forever."

Our relationship shifted after a drunken night when he mistook me for Rachel and took me to bed.

He was gentle that night, but he called out Rachel's name.

I bit my lip, tasting bitterness.

When Samson woke, he handed me a check for a hundred thousand. "Last night never happened."

My eyes burned. "I don't want money. I want you, Samson."

He stared at me for a long moment, then shrugged. "Suit yourself. Don't regret it."

I became his secret lover. By day, we were boss and subordinate. By night, we met in this small apartment.

That hidden relationship lasted five years.

Until two weeks ago, when his true love returned from abroad.

Samson ended it without a flicker of doubt.

I asked numbly, "Rachel can't be hurt, but I can?"

Guilt flashed across his face, rare for him. "Margot, I waited years for her. I won't let her go this time. You're smart. You'll do fine without me."

To make someone as proud and ruthless as Samson show guilt, my expression must have been utterly pathetic.

Like an abandoned kitten, begging its owner not to leave.

2

That night, I broke down and wandered outside.

Dusk settled, and houses lit up one by one.

A thousand lights glowed, but none for me.

I curled my knees to my chest and whispered to myself, "It's fine, Margot. You've been abandoned your whole life. You should be used to it."

My uncle called. "Margot, your cousin's getting married this year. Send over a hundred thousand. We need to rebuild the house."

"Okay."

"Oh, and don't come back for Christmas. Your cousin's fiancée is staying a few days, so we need your room."

"Got it."

He added, "Margot, we raised you. You owe us."

I hung up, feeling lonelier than ever.

My parents died young, and I grew up in my uncle's house. Times were tough, and having food was enough.

They didn't mistreat me outright, but my aunt's glares when I took an extra piece of meat, their grumbling if I left a light on too long or slacked on chores, left me anxious.

Living under their roof made me sensitive and insecure.

Samson was like a sun, bringing light to my gray world.

My freshman year at Aventon University, Samson was a senior, my mentor.

On move-in day, other students fawned over lively, pretty girls.

No one bothered with a shabby, poor newcomer like me.

I struggled with my luggage across campus until a strong hand took it.

He wore black-framed glasses and smelled faintly of fresh herbs. "Come on, which dorm? I'll walk you."

Girls around us shot envious looks. I froze, my heart racing. "Th-third building."

I didn't dare speak to him, just watched him.

Samson was the student council president, a star.

His girlfriend, Rachel, was Aventon's golden girl. They were the perfect pair.

I followed him with my eyes for three years, my crush obvious to everyone.

All of Aventon knew Margot loved Samson. I joined his clubs, took his electives.

Samson didn't care. Countless people adored him; I was just one more.

I stared at him openly in class, cheered loudest at his games.

To get closer, I studied relentlessly, earning every scholarship available.

Watching him, I felt life was something to live.

3

My third year, I worked as a waitress at a bar near campus to cover tuition.

I wore a tight uniform, heavy makeup, and five-centimeter heels.

I forced a smile, pushing drinks table by table.

That night, Samson was there, dressed in a white shirt, frowning as he scrolled on his phone, out of place in the noisy chaos.

Someone dragged him along, and he radiated irritation.

His group teased, "Hey, gorgeous, why skip our table? Think we can't pay?"

I braced myself and approached. "What can I get you?"

"Nice voice, sweetheart."

Samson looked up at my voice. Our eyes met, and my heart skipped. I prayed he wouldn't recognize me.

He probably didn't. His brown eyes flicked over me, then dropped back to his phone.

Relief mixed with disappointment.

It was a restless night. A thug at another table grabbed my wrist, demanding I drink with them.

I refused, and he slapped me hard. "Slut, you dress like that to tease men, then play innocent?"

Liquor soaked my clothes. I stood, humiliated, my mind a mess.

The crowd watched, amused.

Only Samson stood. "Enough, Shawn. Back off."

They knew each other. Shawn sneered. "What, Samson? Playing hero for her? Got a crush?"

Samson's face darkened with anger.

They fought, fists flying. The bar erupted, bottles shattering.

Shawn, bloodied, spat and stormed out, yelling, "You'll pay for this!"

Samson's friends crowded him. "Why mess with that lunatic? He's unhinged."

"I'm fine." Samson noticed me cowering nearby.

He handed me his jacket. "Get back to school. They're locking the gates soon."

Tears spilled. He remembered me all along.

The fight made waves at school. The mysterious bar girl became a rumor, but no one knew it was me.

His jacket hung in my dorm for days.

I stared at it, dazed. A roommate, eyeing the fabric, said, "Where'd you get this? It's expensive."

They grinned slyly. "Nice work, Margot. Snagged a rich guy?"

I laughed it off, unsure how to explain.

The incident got Samson a minor demerit and a school-wide reprimand.

I thought it was over until I went to return his jacket and saw Samson ambushed by a group led by Shawn.

Shawn smirked wickedly and dragged me along.

4

Shawn beat Samson bloody, bruising his face. He forced white powder into Samson's mouth.

"Hero, huh? Aventon's golden boy live-streamed. Should be fun!"

Shawn locked us in a cramped room.

The space was tight. I heard Samson's ragged breathing and pounding heart.

A camera watched from the wall.

I whispered, "Samson, are you okay?"

He lifted his head, eyes red, veins bulging. "I'm fine. Whatever happens, stay away from me."

Samson was losing control. I hadn't taken anything, but I felt like I was melting.

So close, his long lashes brushed my face, tickling.

He paused, whispering against my ear, "Stay still. Don't talk."

My heart raced. My limbs froze.

Shawn burst in, phone in hand, grinning wildly. "Let's see you act proud now, Samson."

Samson lunged, pinning him to the wall, and tossed me the phone. "Call the police!"

That night was a blur. Leaving the station, I was numb.

On the way back, moonlight stretched our shadows. Streetlamps cast a warm glow on Samson's hair.

I trailed him. He turned. "Margot, back at school, whatever happens, let it go."

The video of our kiss was already out. No taking it back.

"I understand. Thank you, Samson." It was our first real conversation.

All these years, I followed him quietly, rarely bothering him.

I never imagined our first true talk would be like this.

5

The video spread like wildfire across campus.

People pointed and whispered about me.

Threatening notes appeared in my backpack.

Classmates shunned me.

"That's the girl who kissed Samson."

"She looks like a seductress."

"Poor Rachel..."

Friends confronted me. "Margot, is Samson really cheating with you?"

My face paled. "No, he was just helping me."

"You kissed like that. Who'd believe you? Rachel and Samson broke up because of you."

My mind went blank. I never meant to ruin their relationship.

Samson appeared, exhausted, his voice pleading. "Margot, can you explain to Rachel for me? She won't listen to me. She wants to break up."

I'd never seen Samson so broken. Only Rachel could reduce him to this.

I rushed to reassure him. "I'll talk to her properly."

When I found Rachel, she was packing her things. The man driving her wasn't Samson.

Her face soured the moment she saw me.

No matter how I explained, she remained unmoved.

She said coldly, "I know nothing happened, but I'm tired of the stares, the pity in their eyes. I did nothing wrong. And I don't love Samson. If he hadn't been so good to me, I wouldn't have stayed so long. Tell him the man I truly love is back. I'm leaving with him. Tell him to stop looking for me."

I watched Rachel gently hold the man's hand, their closeness undeniable.

I never imagined the truth could be so cruel.

Samson kept asking if I'd explained. I stayed silent.

I couldn't tell him Rachel left for someone else.

Rachel quietly left Aventon University. I became the undeniable other woman.

Samson spiraled, drinking endlessly. His eyes red, he demanded, "Rachel's gone. Happy now? What did you say to make her vanish without a word?"

His accusations left me speechless. How could I tell him the person he adored loved another?

He told me to get lost, hurling harsh words.

Each one cut like a knife.

Worried about his mental health, I followed him, picking up bottles, making hangover soup, porridge, washing clothes, cleaning his room.

6

After a year of despair, his personality shifted. I felt his hatred.

He took over the family business, still the untouchable star.

Despite everyone calling me shameless, I fought to stay by his side.

Everyone in the company knew I was Samson's mistress.

As if to humiliate me on purpose.

Samson never bothered to clarify, his face always stern, no longer the spirited man he was. People said he waited for someone, the one he truly loved.

I was just a clingy nuisance, destined to be discarded like a drowned dog when the real love returned.

People said I latched onto a money tree.

His parents met me once and seemed relieved.

They said, "A girl like her? Samson will get bored soon. Boys like to play."

Everyone thought we'd never last. Laughably, I thought so too.

Over the years, Samson wasn't unkind to me.

The day before Rachel returned, we went grocery shopping and cooked hotpot together.

We'd cuddle in bed, watching TV.

I asked cautiously, "Samson, if I got pregnant someday, would you want the child?"

His face showed conflict. He avoided my hopeful gaze and didn't answer.

The next morning, as he left, he mumbled, "Yes."

His voice was so soft I almost thought I misheard.

My joy lasted one day.

Rachel returned, and the words "Samson, I'm pregnant" stayed trapped in my throat.