But when the lies unraveled, and their bitter clash came, Ace finally faced the truth: the pure love he once held was lost, slipped through his own fingers.
His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Everly, do you remember? Every time I went on a business trip, you always craved that beef rice noodle stal!. I’d make sure to bring some back just for
you…”
I looked up, and the familiar signboard came into view.
l}cou
couldn’t even recall which winter it was; snow had been falling softly the day Ace took me to that humble roadside stall for beef noodles.
1 was picky, never líking cilantro, but I loved the subtle flavor it gave the broth.
So Ace carefully plucked every leaf out for me.
Snowflakes clung to his lashes, delicate and fleeting.
Then, just like that, they melted away, gone in an instant.
Our love was the same, broken beyond repair.
“Ace.”
“We aren’t children anymore.“}
“In this marriage, you were the one who broke the trust. The betrayer, the liar. Don’t try to drown your guilt in memories.“}
He nearly choked. “Why can’t you forgive me? Why can’t you just give me another chance?”
I answered, calm but cutting. “Then who will give our unborn child another chance?“}
That single sentence shattered him. He broke down completely, stumbling away in panic.
But just then, a sea of reporters surged toward me, microphones and cameras shoved in my face.”
A sharp voice snapped through the crowd.
“As someone accused of plagiarism, how does it feel to shamelessly integrate a rising artist’s work into your comic?”
“You once took first place in a national art competition. How does it feel now, surviving off stolen inspiration?”
My pupils shrank. My face turned ghostly pale.}
Comp
Only then did my coworkers realize the trending topic had exploded, accusing our company of stealing a new artist’s work titled Undying Wisteria, signed by Faye.!!
But only I saw it.
Her so–called “new work” was undeniably stained with the shadow of Rose Maiden, my creation.
Then came a journalist’s cruel smirk.
“So, tell us, whose work will you plagiarize next?”
The crowd burst into laughter.
I wanted to defend myself, but before I could, the client company’s manager, who had just arrived, shot me a furious glare and turned away. “I don’t think your company is serious about collaboration.”
Though my leaders believed in me, they couldn’t override the board’s verdict. Their final warning came, heavy and hesitant:
“Everly, I know how talented you are, but public opinion carries weight…”
My colleagues gathered around, offering quiet comfort. “Everly, even if they don’t believe you, we do.”
But that night, staring at the flood of insults on my Twitter page, I felt my knuckles turn white from clenching too tightly.
“The plagiarism queen is back to cash in. Does she think the whole internet is stupid?”
“The CG blatantly ripped off a new artist’s work. We stand with Faye. She said the piece was born from grief over a lost loved one. What’s next? Gonna say it’s just ‘a shared theme‘? Lmao!”
