At six in the morning, Ethan stood in my empty bedroom holding the note.

“You now have the freedom you wanted.”

Below it was my ticket.

One way.

London.

My mother later told me he read those words three times.

Then he turned toward her.

—When is Olivia coming back?

My mother answered calmly:

—She isn’t.

Something in his face changed.

—What do you mean?

—Exactly what I said.

He looked around my room.

The bookshelves were half empty.

My sketchbooks were gone.

The camera my grandfather had given me was gone.

Even the old rabbit-shaped lamp Ethan had won for me at a childhood fair had disappeared.

I had left nothing that suggested I planned to return.

Ethan’s voice became sharp.

—Why would you let her leave alone?

My father stepped between them.

—Watch your tone.

—Uncle Lu, I’m asking where she is staying.

—That’s no longer your concern.

Ethan stared at him.

For the first time in his life, the Pei family’s heir seemed unable to understand why information was being denied to him.

—I’m going to call her.

My mother almost laughed.

—You can try.

He did.

My phone was already disconnected.

Then he messaged me.

No delivery.

He opened WeChat.

My profile still existed.

But he could no longer see my updates.

He had been removed.

That was when Ethan finally lost his composure.

—She blocked me?

My father looked at him coldly.

—You canceled the engagement.

—That doesn’t mean she has to disappear!

The room became silent.

My grandfather, who had been standing near the doorway, finally spoke.

—Then what did you think canceling an engagement meant?

Ethan had no answer.

Because the truth was simple.

He wanted me to stop being his fiancée.

But he had never imagined I would stop being Olivia Lu—the girl who had followed him since childhood, waited for him, defended him and returned every time he pushed her away.

He wanted freedom.

He had simply assumed I would remain nearby while he enjoyed it.

At seven thirty that morning, another disaster arrived.

Nora Tang was summoned to the exhibition committee.

The evidence was overwhelming.

My grandfather’s laboratory submitted the microscopic authentication mark.

The digital archive contained forty-three dated recordings showing the development of the painting from the first pencil line to the final layer.

Even the pigments had batch numbers linked to materials purchased by my family months earlier.

Nora couldn’t explain any of it.

Finally, she cried.

—I found the painting.

The committee chairman stared at her.

—Where?

—Near the lockers.

—Then why did you remove Miss Lu’s signature?

Nora went silent.

That silence destroyed her defense.

The school suspended her from the art club.

Her scholarship committee opened a separate review.

Camila Qin, who had publicly accused me of theft without investigation, was removed as club president pending disciplinary action.

But Ethan still defended Nora.

At least at first.

He arrived at school before noon.

Nora ran toward him crying.

—Ethan, I didn’t mean for this to happen.

He frowned.

—Tell me exactly what happened.

She grabbed his sleeve.

—I was scared. Everyone already thinks Olivia hates me. If I admitted the truth, nobody would believe me.

—What truth?

Nora lowered her head.

—Someone gave me the painting.

Ethan became still.

—Who?

She couldn’t answer.

That was when Hannah arrived.

My best friend had never liked Ethan.

That day she didn’t bother hiding it.

—Still protecting her?

Ethan’s face hardened.

—This doesn’t concern you.

Hannah laughed.

—Olivia left the country because you helped turn her into the villain of every story. I think that concerns all of us.

He froze.

—You knew she was leaving?

—Yes.

—And you didn’t tell me?

Hannah stared at him as if the question itself were absurd.

—Why would I?

—I’m—

He stopped.

He couldn’t say fiancé anymore.

Hannah finished for him.

—You’re what?

Nothing.

That was what he had chosen to become.

Nora began crying harder.

—Ethan, please. I only wanted one opportunity.

He finally looked at her.

—Did you know the painting belonged to Olivia?

She didn’t answer.

His voice turned colder.

—Did you know?

After several seconds, Nora whispered:

—Yes.

Ethan stepped backward.

Perhaps that was the first crack.

Not because Nora had suddenly become a different person.

Because he finally had to face something he had refused to see.

Every time I defended myself, he had called me arrogant.

Every time Nora cried, he had assumed she was innocent.

He hadn’t investigated.

He hadn’t listened.

He had decided what kind of person I was before the truth even mattered.

That evening he returned to Grandpa Pei’s residence.

The old man was drinking tea.

Ethan stood before him.

—Do you know where Olivia is?

—Yes.

—Tell me.

—No.

His grandfather didn’t even look up.

Ethan clenched his fists.

—I need to explain.

—Explain what?

The old man finally raised his eyes.

—That you publicly doubted the girl who grew up beside you?

—That you protected another person without evidence?

—Or that you knelt in the rain demanding your freedom, then became angry when Olivia actually gave it to you?

Ethan’s face went pale.

—Grandpa—

—You didn’t lose her last night.

His grandfather’s voice was quiet.

—You lost her every time she reached for you and you taught her that someone else mattered more.

By then, I was thousands of kilometers away.

London was cold.

Gray.

Unfamiliar.

And perfect.

For the first two weeks, I barely knew how to live without looking over my shoulder.

No Ethan.

No Nora.

No whispers about the Pei and Lu families.

No engagement arranged before I was old enough to understand marriage.

I enrolled in an intensive art program.

Then I applied to a design academy I had dreamed about for years but never considered because everyone assumed I would remain near Ethan.

For the first time, my future belonged only to me.

Three months later, my painting won the youth exhibition.

They offered to return it.

I donated it instead.

The proceeds went toward an arts scholarship for students without financial support.

When the story reached home, Nora’s name appeared online again.

People attacked her.

I asked my family’s lawyer to stop anyone using my name to harass her.

Hannah called me immediately.

—You’re protecting her?

—No.

I looked through my studio window.

—I’m protecting myself from becoming the person that dream said I would become.

I didn’t want revenge.

I wanted distance.

Nearly a year passed before Ethan saw me again.

My academy held an exhibition in Shanghai.

I returned for three days.

After the opening, I walked outside and found him waiting beneath the museum lights.

He looked older.

Not physically.

Just less certain.

—Olivia.

I stopped.

—Ethan.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then he said:

—I’ve been trying to contact you.

—I know.

—You never answered.

—That was intentional.

His jaw tightened.

The old Ethan would have become angry.

This one only nodded.

—I owe you an apology.

—I don’t need one.

—I do.

He looked at me.

—I was wrong about the painting. About Nora. About you.

I waited.

Then he added:

—I thought you would always be there.

There it was.

The truth.

Not love.

Expectation.

I smiled faintly.

—I know.

His eyes reddened.

—When you agreed to cancel the engagement, I thought you were trying to punish me.

—I wasn’t.

—Then when you left, I thought you were waiting for me to chase you.

—I wasn’t doing that either.

He gave a broken laugh.

—That’s what took me the longest to understand.

He looked toward the exhibition hall.

—Are you happy?

I considered it.

Then nodded.

—Very.

That answer hurt him.

But he accepted it.

—Nora transferred schools.

I said nothing.

—We were never together.

—That isn’t important anymore.

He looked at me for a long time.

—Was there ever a chance for us?

I remembered my dream.

The iron cage.

The river.

The version of myself who destroyed everyone she loved because she refused to let go of one man.

Then I looked at my parents through the museum window.

Alive.

Laughing.

My grandfather beside them.

Hannah waving impatiently for me to return.

I smiled.

—There was.

Ethan’s eyes changed.

Then I finished:

—And I used it to leave.

I walked back inside.

He didn’t follow.

Years later, I sometimes wondered whether that dream had really shown me another life or simply revealed the ending waiting for me if I refused to change.

I never found out.

I didn’t need to.

Because Ethan got exactly what he had once begged for.

His freedom.

Nora eventually rebuilt her own life somewhere far from both families.

And I became an artist under my own name instead of someone’s future wife.

The strangest part was that I never hated Ethan.

Eventually, I even thanked him in my heart.

Because the night he knelt in the rain and asked to be released from me, he thought he was ending our story.

He didn’t realize he was finally giving me permission to begin mine.