His Cold Heart, My Burning Love

His Cold Heart, My Burning Love

Gavin

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The studio lights burned hot, a stark contrast to the manufactured chill, as I stood on a platform, a fake smile plastered on my face. This wasn' t about a generic second chance; it was about Jake Miller. Then, he walked out-the boy I left behind, now a stranger in a tailored suit, a Silicon Valley titan. His gaze swept past me without a flicker of recognition, and my heart sank. Before I could process the sting, Chloe Davis, a social media influencer, glided onto the stage, linking her arm with his, her cooing voice dripping with practiced sweetness. He stood there, allowing her to cling to him, his silence a crushing answer-seven years of distance felt like an eternity. "Do I know you?" he asked, his eyes cold and empty, when I finally found the courage to approach. The question hit me harder than a physical blow, followed by his dismissive "Right. The artist. I' m a little busy right now." The next morning, his unanswered question mark on my phone served as a stark reminder of his indifference. Then, I overheard him promise Chloe a romantic dinner cruise, solidifying my humiliation. When I twisted my ankle during a beach volleyball game, he watched me with unnerving calm, then abandoned me to take Chloe on the promised date. That night, my desperate, anonymous text confessing my love was met with Chloe' s triumphant announcement that she and Jake were the "Heartbeat Couple," confirming he had publicly chosen her. Just as I was about to give up, my childhood best friend, Ethan Vance, unexpectedly appeared, announcing he was here to "reclaim his fiancée" right in front of Jake and the cameras. Jake' s mask of indifference cracked; his jaw tightened as he strode away, but moments later, in the library, he coldly told me I needed an "appointment" to speak with him. Later, seeing him subtly express jealousy towards Ethan gave me a sliver of hope, only for my mother to call, accusing me of embarrassing the family and demanding I leave the show. Then Ethan delivered the final blow: Jake was planning to announce his engagement to Chloe on the final episode. I rushed to Jake' s mansion, desperate for him to hear my explanation, only for him to declare, "I' m not interested in your excuses. It' s too late," then told me to leave. Returning one last time, begging at his gate, I confessed my heart through his closed door, only for him to open it, revealing Chloe, sitting smugly on his bed. He then pulled out his phone, showed me my contact, and brutally pressed "Delete," whispering, "Don' t ever contact me again," and added a final, cruel remark about Chloe' s preference for flowers. The next morning, as I cut my finger, bleeding onto the counter, he saw me, then turned away to pour Chloe orange juice, as if I didn' t exist. "I' m leaving the show," I told Liam, my voice hollow, realizing there was nothing left to fight for. A year later, with my art finding success, my phone rang-an unknown number. It was Jake, his voice hesitant, saying he needed to talk, and I echoed his past words, "My assistant can schedule a call for you. Perhaps in a few weeks," then hung up. Liam revealed the truth: I left for Paris not out of ambition, but to save my family from bankruptcy, and Jake had changed his number, preventing my desperate calls. Jake watched my televised interview, our misunderstanding laid bare, and for the first time, felt the full, crushing weight of his regret, and I knew: the chase was about to begin.

Introduction

The studio lights burned hot, a stark contrast to the manufactured chill, as I stood on a platform, a fake smile plastered on my face.

This wasn' t about a generic second chance; it was about Jake Miller.

Then, he walked out-the boy I left behind, now a stranger in a tailored suit, a Silicon Valley titan.

His gaze swept past me without a flicker of recognition, and my heart sank.

Before I could process the sting, Chloe Davis, a social media influencer, glided onto the stage, linking her arm with his, her cooing voice dripping with practiced sweetness.

He stood there, allowing her to cling to him, his silence a crushing answer-seven years of distance felt like an eternity.

"Do I know you?" he asked, his eyes cold and empty, when I finally found the courage to approach.

The question hit me harder than a physical blow, followed by his dismissive "Right. The artist. I' m a little busy right now."

The next morning, his unanswered question mark on my phone served as a stark reminder of his indifference.

Then, I overheard him promise Chloe a romantic dinner cruise, solidifying my humiliation.

When I twisted my ankle during a beach volleyball game, he watched me with unnerving calm, then abandoned me to take Chloe on the promised date.

That night, my desperate, anonymous text confessing my love was met with Chloe' s triumphant announcement that she and Jake were the "Heartbeat Couple," confirming he had publicly chosen her.

Just as I was about to give up, my childhood best friend, Ethan Vance, unexpectedly appeared, announcing he was here to "reclaim his fiancée" right in front of Jake and the cameras.

Jake' s mask of indifference cracked; his jaw tightened as he strode away, but moments later, in the library, he coldly told me I needed an "appointment" to speak with him.

Later, seeing him subtly express jealousy towards Ethan gave me a sliver of hope, only for my mother to call, accusing me of embarrassing the family and demanding I leave the show.

Then Ethan delivered the final blow: Jake was planning to announce his engagement to Chloe on the final episode.

I rushed to Jake' s mansion, desperate for him to hear my explanation, only for him to declare, "I' m not interested in your excuses. It' s too late," then told me to leave.

Returning one last time, begging at his gate, I confessed my heart through his closed door, only for him to open it, revealing Chloe, sitting smugly on his bed.

He then pulled out his phone, showed me my contact, and brutally pressed "Delete," whispering, "Don' t ever contact me again," and added a final, cruel remark about Chloe' s preference for flowers.

The next morning, as I cut my finger, bleeding onto the counter, he saw me, then turned away to pour Chloe orange juice, as if I didn' t exist.

"I' m leaving the show," I told Liam, my voice hollow, realizing there was nothing left to fight for.

A year later, with my art finding success, my phone rang-an unknown number.

It was Jake, his voice hesitant, saying he needed to talk, and I echoed his past words, "My assistant can schedule a call for you. Perhaps in a few weeks," then hung up.

Liam revealed the truth: I left for Paris not out of ambition, but to save my family from bankruptcy, and Jake had changed his number, preventing my desperate calls.

Jake watched my televised interview, our misunderstanding laid bare, and for the first time, felt the full, crushing weight of his regret, and I knew: the chase was about to begin.

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