After I said those words—

“Because I didn’t like you anymore.”

The elevator doors slowly closed.

But before they completely shut, I saw Fu Chengxi standing there.

Frozen.

Like those simple words had hurt him more than any accusation could.

I knew him too well.

Three years ago, I would have rushed to explain.

I would have told him that I didn’t mean it.

I would have cried and asked why he treated me that way.

But that Liang Zhiya no longer existed.

The girl who secretly went to temples to pray for his exam results.

The girl who waited outside his house holding a lucky charm.

The girl who believed that one day he would see her.

She had disappeared the moment she heard his father’s words.

And his answer.

“I’m just playing with her.”

That night, I stood outside his door for almost ten minutes.

The amulet in my hand became warm from being held too tightly.

I wanted to knock.

I wanted to ask him.

I wanted to hear him deny it.

But I didn’t.

Because sometimes the truth doesn’t need confirmation.

His tone was too natural.

Too casual.

He wasn’t defending himself.

He wasn’t embarrassed.

He was simply telling the truth.

I went home.

Deleted his number.

Removed every photo.

And accepted the UCLA admission letter I had hidden for months.

The next morning, when he asked which university I planned to attend, I looked at him.

The person I loved for three years.

The person who thought I was just a game.

“Peking University.”

He nodded.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know that my decision had already been made.

He didn’t know that the girl standing in front of him was saying goodbye.

…

Three years later.

Los Angeles.

I thought I would never see Fu Chengxi again.

But life had a strange sense of humor.

The boy who once thought I was not worth taking seriously was now standing in front of me.

Asking me why I wasn’t angry.

Why?

Because anger meant I still cared.

And I had already spent all my feelings on someone who didn’t deserve them.

After that night at the hotel, I thought we would never meet again.

I was wrong.

The next afternoon, Fu Chengxi appeared at the hotel reception.

Alone.

No Zhou Tiantian.

He stood there quietly.

For the first time, he didn’t look like the arrogant young master from three years ago.

He looked tired.

“Liang Zhiya.”

I looked up.

“Mr. Fu.”

That unfamiliar title made his expression change.

“You really call me that?”

I smiled.

“Isn’t it appropriate?”

His hand tightened.

Three years ago, I would have called him Chengxi.

Only me.

Nobody else.

Now, even my voice kept a distance.

“I want to talk.”

“I’m working.”

“Five minutes.”

I looked at him.

“You already had three years.”

He froze.

That sentence made his face pale.

Because he understood.

I wasn’t talking about today.

I was talking about everything.

The years I gave him.

The feelings he wasted.

The trust he destroyed.

“That day…”

He stopped.

I waited.

Finally, he said:

“I heard what you heard.”

I didn’t move.

“My father asked me about you.”

“Yes.”

“I lied.”

I looked at him.

“You did.”

His eyes lowered.

“I thought…”

He paused.

“I thought you would never leave.”

A strange feeling passed through me.

Not sadness.

Not anger.

Just disappointment.

“Why?”

He looked at me.

“Because you were always there.”

I smiled slightly.

“And that’s why you didn’t value me.”

He had no answer.

Because it was true.

People often don’t fear losing what they believe will always remain.

Fu Chengxi had always thought I was his.

Until I wasn’t.

Then he finally understood.

“Zhiya.”

His voice softened.

“Did you really stop liking me?”

I looked at him.

Three years ago, that question would have destroyed me.

Now, it was easy.

“Yes.”

He looked hurt.

“Completely?”

I nodded.

“Completely.”

A long silence followed.

Then he asked:

“Then why did you keep the dollar?”

I looked confused.

“What?”

“The dollar I threw at you.”

I remembered.

The one he used to humiliate me.

The one I picked up from the floor.

“I thought you kept it because you still cared.”

I almost laughed.

“No.”

“Then why?”

I looked at him calmly.

“Because I don’t like wasting money.”

For the first time, Fu Chengxi didn’t know what to say.

The boy who always had an answer.

The boy who always controlled every situation.

Was speechless.

Then his phone rang.

The screen lit up.

Zhou Tiantian.

He looked at it.

Then at me.

And didn’t answer.

I noticed.

“Pick up.”

“No.”

“Why?”

His eyes stayed on mine.

“Because I finally realized something.”

“What?”

He took a breath.

“Three years ago, I thought losing you meant losing someone who liked me.”

A pause.

“But now I know…”

His voice became lower.

“I lost someone who would have loved me better than anyone else.”

I didn’t answer.

Because regret always arrives too late.

And some people only understand the value of something after they have already thrown it away.

I turned back to my work.

“Mr. Fu.”

He looked at me.

“Please don’t come here again.”

His expression changed.

“Zhiya…”

“I have a new life now.”

The elevator doors opened.

I stepped inside.

This time, he didn’t stop them.

And as the doors closed between us, I realized something.

The greatest victory wasn’t making Fu Chengxi regret losing me.

It was no longer caring whether he regretted it at all.