The 72-Hour Lover3 / 3

Chapter 3

Julian drove his Tesla Model S north along the Pacific Coast Highway.

I sat in the passenger seat, the sea breeze blowing in through the window, carrying the scent of salt and moisture.

"You still won't tell me where we're going?" I asked.

"Almost there," Julian said with a smile, one hand on the steering wheel, the other naturally holding mine.

His hand was large and warm, enveloping mine.

I paused for a moment but didn't pull away.

The action was so natural, so natural that I almost forgot we had reconnected less than 24 hours ago.

Twenty minutes later, the car stopped at a cliff edge in Malibu.

There were no other cars here, just a small trail leading to the sea.

"This is?" I asked.

"Point Dume," Julian said. "My favorite place to come during college. Whenever I was in a bad mood, I'd drive here and sit all afternoon."

He pushed open the car door, walked around, and opened mine.

"Let's go. I'll show you something good."

We walked down the trail, rugged rocks beneath our feet, the boundless blue sky above.

After walking for about ten minutes, the view suddenly opened up.

A hidden beach, almost empty.

Waves beat against the reefs, kicking up white spray. A few seals lay lazily on the rocks sunbathing.

"Wow," I couldn't help but exclaim.

"Like it?" Julian stood behind me, his voice right at my ear.

"It's beautiful," I said. "I've been in Los Angeles for so many years and didn't know this place existed."

"Because this is a secret base only locals know," Julian said. "Most tourists just go to places like Santa Monica Pier."

He took off his shoes and walked barefoot on the sand.

"Come on, Sophia. Take them off, feel it."

I hesitated but took off my shoes.

Fine, soft sand squeezed between my toes, slightly hot. The seawater surged up, icy cold, bringing a burst of refreshment.

We walked along the coastline like this, neither of us speaking.

But this silence wasn't awkward; instead, it was comfortable.

"Sophia," Julian suddenly spoke up. "Can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"How did you and Jackson Hayes get together?"

I froze.

"Why ask that?"

"Because I want to understand you," Julian said directly. "And, I want to know what kind of man could make you willingly give seven years."

I was silent for a long time.

The waves beat against the shore one after another, as if urging me to answer.

"We met at an art exhibition," I finally said. "Seven years ago, I just moved to New York, working at a small PR firm. The company took a job that day, and I was in charge of reception."

"And then Jackson appeared?"

"Yeah." I smiled, but the smile was bitter. "He was wearing a very expensive suit. When he walked in, everyone was looking at him. I thought at the time, a man like that probably lives in a different world."

"But he noticed you."

"Right," I said. "He asked for my name, then asked me to dinner the next day. Took me to Per Se. That meal cost eight hundred dollars. For me back then, that was a week's wages."

Julian didn't speak, just listened quietly.

"I felt like, wow, this is a fairytale," I continued. "Cinderella met the prince. He bought me gifts, took me to high-end restaurants, introduced me to his friends. I felt like I had become someone else, someone better, more respectable."

"But that wasn't the real you," Julian said.

I turned to look at him.

His gaze was serious, without a trace of mockery or pity.

"No," I whispered. "It took me seven years to realize he didn't love me. He loved the 'modified version of me that fit his aesthetics'."

Julian stopped walking and turned to face me.

"Sophia, do you know what your biggest problem is?"

"What?"

"You always want to become what others expect," he said. "But you never ask yourself what kind of person *you* want to be."

His words hit my chest like a punch.

"I..."

"Shh." Julian put a finger on my lips. "You don't need to explain. Sophia, I just want to tell you one thing."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine, his voice low:

"In my eyes, you don't need to become anyone. You just need to be yourself."

The sea breeze messed up my hair and blew into my eyes, making them hot.

"Julian..."

"You know," he suddenly said, his tone becoming light. "Actually, I noticed you back in college."

"What?" I was stunned.

Julian smiled, that smile a bit boyish:

"Sophia Blake, UCLA Economics major. Sophomore year, you took my statistics class. You always sat in the third row by the window. You took notes so seriously every class. Once you dropped your pen, I picked it up for you, and you said thanks, blushing like an apple."

I was completely dumbfounded.

"You... you remember that?"

"I remember everything about you," Julian said, his eyes deep. "You liked reading by the window on the third floor of the library. You bit your nails when you were nervous before exams. You have a small dimple on the left side when you smile. You liked the spicy ramen at that shop in Koreatown, adding lots of kimchi every time."

With every sentence, my heartbeat skipped a beat.

"But... but why did you never say anything?"

"Because back then, your eyes only held your studies, your dreams," Julian said. "And I was still figuring out my life. I didn't want to be a burden."

"And then?"

"Then, I went to Silicon Valley," Julian said. "Startups, fundraising, working day and night. By the time I finally achieved something and was ready to come back and find you..."

He paused.

"I was already with Jackson," I finished for him.

Julian nodded.

"That alumni reunion six years ago, do you remember?"

"I remember," I said. "When you shook hands with Jackson, the atmosphere was a bit weird."

"Because I wanted to punch him," Julian said bluntly. "I saw his attitude towards you―that matter-of-fact possessiveness, that 'you are my accessory' look. Sophia, I knew back then you wouldn't be happy."

"But you didn't say anything."

"Because you looked happy," Julian said. "At least on the surface. I didn't want to ruin that."

The waves surged up again, wetting our ankles.

"So all these years," I said slowly, "you've been waiting?"

Julian looked at me, a complex emotion in his eyes:

"I was waiting for you to wake up. Waiting for you to realize you deserve better."

"What about now?" I asked, my heart beating fast enough to jump out of my chest. "Now I'm awake. What then?"

Julian smiled slowly.

He raised his hand, wiping away a tear from the corner of my eye with his thumb:

"Then, Sophia Blake, I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving to you―"

He paused, leaning close, his lips almost touching mine:

"What it means to be truly loved."

Then, he kissed me.

This kiss was light, gentle, like a feather brushing past.

But I felt my whole body trembling.

Not because of fear, but because...

This was a real kiss.

Not possession, not conquest.

It was respect, a promise, a vow of "I will love you well."

When we returned to the hotel, it was already 5:00 PM.

We stayed at the beach all afternoon, watching the sunset, chatting, eating fish tacos from a roadside stand.

Simple, but happy.

Julian walked me to the hotel room door.

"Want to have dinner together tonight?" he asked.

I thought about it and nodded. "Sure."

"Then I'll pick you up at seven," Julian said, then leaned down and placed a kiss on my forehead. "Dress casually, we're going somewhere relaxed."

"Okay."

Watching him leave, I closed the door, leaned against it, and couldn't help smiling.

This feeling was amazing.

Like being seventeen, the feeling when a boy said "I like you" for the first time.

Heart racing, cheeks burning, the whole world becoming bright.

***

**Jackson's Perspective**

Los Angeles International Airport, 2:00 PM.

As soon as I got off the plane, I called Marcus.

"Found it?"

"Found it," Marcus said. "Julian Ford lives in a luxury apartment in Century City. I sent you the address. But Jackson, I suggest you calm down..."

"Calm down?" I sneered. "Marcus, my fucking girlfriend is in someone else's bed, and you're telling me to calm down?"

"Ex-girlfriend," Marcus corrected me. "Technically speaking, you guys already broke up."

"Shut up."

I hung up and called an Uber.

The car was stuck in LA traffic for forty minutes. Sitting in the back seat, every second felt like a century.

The phone call from last night kept flashing through my mind.

Julian's voice.

Sophia's silence.

*"She's very likely to wake up in someone else's bed."*

Fuck.

I lit a cigarette. The driver glared at me from the rearview mirror.

"Sir, no smoking in the car."

I glanced at him, pulled a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet, and threw it into the front seat.

"You can now."

When I arrived at Century City, it was already 3:00 PM.

I stood downstairs at Julian's building, looking up at the glass-walled skyscraper.

Forty-second floor. Penthouse.

Of course it was the penthouse.

A man like Julian Ford always had to live in the highest place, looking down on everyone.

I walked into the lobby, and the doorman immediately stopped me.

"Sir, who are you looking for?"

"Julian Ford."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No," I said, trying to suppress my anger. "But I must see him. Now."

The doorman sized me up, probably realizing I wasn't to be trifled with, and picked up the phone.

"Please wait, I'll contact..."

"No need to call." A voice came from behind.

I turned around.

Julian Ford stood there, wearing gray athletic gear, holding a Starbucks coffee, looking like he just returned from a morning run.

"Mr. Hayes," he said, the corner of his mouth carrying that infuriating smile. "What a coincidence."

"We need to talk," I said, every word squeezed through my teeth.

"Of course." Julian nodded. "Follow me."

In the elevator, neither of us spoke.

The atmosphere was tense enough to explode.

The elevator doors opened, and Julian led me into his apartment.

Floor-to-ceiling windows, ocean view, minimalist decor. Several abstract paintings hung on the wall, likely authentic.

"Something to drink?" Julian walked toward the open kitchen. "Coffee? Tea? Or something stronger?"

"I'm not here to drink."

"I know," Julian said, pouring himself a whiskey. "But I need a drink. After all, it's my first time dealing with an ex-girlfriend's current boyfriend showing up at my door."

"She's not my ex-girlfriend," I said.

Julian raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Then what is your relationship now?"

"We were together for seven years," I said. "Seven years, do you understand? Not seven days, not seven months. Seven whole years."

"I know," Julian said calmly. "So?"

"So?" I couldn't believe it. "So what gives you the right to intrude on our relationship?"

Julian laughed.

That laugh was full of mockery.

"Intrude?" He repeated the word. "Hayes, are you sure you want to use that word?"

"What do you mean?"

"You broke up with Sophia," Julian said, enunciating every word clearly. "You brought up the breakup first. You said you were tired. You slept with that... Chloe or whatever girl a week later."

"That was..."

"That was what?" Julian interrupted me. "That was your freedom? Your choice? Fine. Then what Sophia is doing now is also her freedom, her choice."

"She's doing it out of spite," I said. "She just wants to make me angry."

Julian put down his glass and walked up to me.

He was slightly taller than me, a height that allowed him to look down on me just perfectly.

"Hayes," he said, his voice low but every word like a knife. "Don't be fucking delusional."

"What?"

"Sophia isn't doing this out of spite," Julian said. "She truly doesn't want you anymore."

"What right do you have to speak for her?"

"Because I asked her," Julian said. "Last night, this morning, just now at the beach―I asked her many times. 'Do you still love Jackson?' 'Do you want to go back?' 'Do you regret it?'"

He paused, looking into my eyes:

"Her answer every time was 'No'."

I felt like something heavy slammed into my chest.

"You're lying."

"Why would I lie?" Julian countered. "Hayes, face reality. You've already lost her."

"I haven't lost her," I said, my voice so loud it startled even me. "She just needs time to cool off. She will come back."

"She won't," Julian stated firmly.

"How do you know?"

Julian smiled, a smile containing a victor's pride.

"Because I won't give her the chance to go back."

I clenched my fists.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Julian said, taking a step forward, "starting from last night, Sophia is mine. I will treat her well, respect her, and give her the commitment you never gave."

"You motherfu―"

I threw a punch.

Julian dodged sideways, then smashed a fist into my face.

I staggered back, immediately tasting blood at the corner of my mouth.

"Enough?" Julian shook his hand, looking at me coldly. "Or do you want to continue?"

I wiped the blood from my mouth and rushed up with another punch.

This time it connected.

Julian's eyebrow split open, blood flowing down.

But he didn't retreat.

He countered with a backhand punch to my ribs.

Then the two of us were brawling.

Fists, elbows, tables knocked over, vases shattered all over the floor.

I don't know how long we fought.

Finally, both of us lay on the floor, panting heavily.

"Are you done fighting?" Julian asked, his voice still steady.

I lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

"Why you?" I asked, voice hoarse. "Why would she choose you?"

Julian was silent for a moment.

"Because I love her," he said, simply and sincerely. "Not possession, not control, not treating her as my accessory. I love her, the real her."

"I love her too," I said.

"No," Julian said. "You love the her in your imagination. Hayes, you never truly saw Sophia."

I closed my eyes.

Julian was right.

I never truly saw her.

I don't remember how I left Julian's apartment.

I only remember his last sentence:

"Hayes, Sophia will be with me tonight for a proposal scene. If you have even a shred of respect for her, don't show up to ruin her happiness."

Proposal?

Julian was going to propose to Sophia?

I stood on the street, suddenly unsure where to go.

My phone rang. It was Marcus.

"Jackson, you okay?"

"Not okay," I said. "Marcus, book me the earliest flight back to New York."

"You... you're giving up just like that?"

"Not giving up," I said, voice extremely hoarse. "It's just that I finally understand, some things, once lost, are lost."

***

**Sophia's Perspective**

At 7:00 PM, Julian picked me up right on time.

He had changed his clothes into a black cashmere sweater and dark blue jeans, looking warm and safe.

"You look beautiful," he said, looking at me.

I wore the yoga outfit he bought, with an oversized cardigan over it, very casual.

"Didn't you say a casual place?"

"Yeah, so you look perfect like this." Julian smiled, taking my hand. "Let's go."

The place he took me to wasn't a restaurant.

It was his home in Santa Monica.

An ocean-view villa, three stories, with a pool and a backyard leading straight to a private beach.

"This is..." I froze.

"My home," Julian said. "Sophia, I wanted you to see where I live. If you're willing... it can be your home too."

He took me on a tour of the whole house.

Open kitchen, huge living room, cozy bedroom, and a study filled with books.

"You read so many books?" I was surprised.

"Yeah, it's my hobby," Julian said. "When work gets stressful, I like to hole up here and read."

I walked to the bookshelf and pulled one out at random.

It was Haruki Murakami's *Norwegian Wood*.

"You like Murakami?"

"Yeah, read it in college," Julian said. "Back then... actually it was because of you."

"Me?"

"Junior year, once in the library, I saw you reading this book," Julian said. "You read so seriously, writing lots of things in your notebook. I thought at the time, a book she likes must be interesting. So I went and borrowed a copy too."

My eyes got hot again.

"Julian..."

"From then on, I developed the habit of reading," Julian said. "So, Sophia, thank you. You made me a better person."

I turned around and hugged him.

"No, you made me believe I deserve to be loved like this."

Dinner was made by Julian.

Pasta, Caesar salad, and a bottle of red wine.

"You cook too?" I was surprised.

"Of course." Julian laughed. "Living alone for so many years, how would I survive without cooking?"

We sat in the backyard, facing the sea, eating dinner.

Sound of waves, starlight, and gentle sea breeze.

Everything was perfect.

"Sophia," Julian suddenly said, putting down his knife and fork.

"Hmm?"

He stood up and walked in front of me.

Then, he knelt on one knee.

My heart skipped a beat.

"Sophia Blake," he said, taking a small box out of his pocket. "From the first time I saw you in college until now, ten years have passed. In these ten years, watching you with someone else, I told myself, as long as you're happy, it's fine."

"But when I saw you unhappy, my heart broke." He opened the box. Inside was a simple silver ring. "Sophia, I don't know if I have the right to say this. But I want to try."

"Sophia Blake, will you marry me?"

Tears blurred my vision.

"Julian..."

"You don't need to answer right away," Julian said. "I can wait. I've waited ten years, I don't mind waiting more..."

"I do," I interrupted him, voice trembling. "Julian Ford, I will marry you."

Julian paused, then a huge smile bloomed on his face.

He stood up, put the ring on my finger, then hugged me and spun me around several times.

"Sophia, thank you," he said, voice choked with emotion. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

"I should be thanking you," I said, tears falling on his shoulder. "Julian, thank you for making me believe love can be like this."

We kissed.

Under the stars, amidst the sound of waves, on this beautiful night.

Just then, the doorbell rang.