Chapter 1

1.

How much power does "the one that got away" really hold?

I found out the answer in a club in SoHo, standing outside a private room.

"Honestly," Julian slurred, "whenever we're having sex, I make Chloe turn her back to me. Because her back... it looks exactly like Selena's."

My hand, about to push the door open, froze in mid-air.

Through the frosted glass, I watched the profile of the man I had loved for three years.

In that single moment, every beautiful fantasy I had about Julian, along with the love I thought we shared, shattered into a million pieces.

I didn't storm in and cause a scene. I just calmly turned around, walked down the stairs, and pulled out my phone.

I dialed the number.

"Professor Laurent, it's Chloe. About your offer to join your studio in Paris... I accept."

Later, Julian would chase me all the way to Paris, his eyes red as he stood on the bank of the Seine, swearing he truly loved me.

I would just gently push his hand away.

"I'm sorry, Julian. I don't love you anymore."

I guess that's the real power of "the one that got away." Even with the real man standing in front of me, he couldn't compare to the memory of the Julian I thought had once loved me.

On the phone, Professor Laurent was even more excited than I was. "Oh my god! Chloe, that's wonderful! I'll pick you up from the airport myself in five days!"

I mumbled a few words of thanks and hung up, feeling pathetic.

Only then did I realize my face was soaked with tears.

You're pathetic, Chloe.

The man you gave your whole heart to only ever saw you as a cheap replacement.

…

I huddled in the club's fire escape, tears streaming down my face. My body trembled as I forced myself to accept the cruel truth.

When I tried to stand, my legs gave out, and I nearly tumbled down the stairs. A hand shot out from the side and steadied me.

I looked down, about to say thank you, but the kind stranger had already disappeared into the shadows of the stairwell.

By the time I pulled myself together and walked back into the private room, Julian was completely wasted.

His friends all wore awkward smiles when they saw me.

"Hey, Chloe, you're late," one of them, Brad, said uneasily. "Julian's had a bit too much, you know how it is. The guy's just excited, bachelor party and all..."

"Don't worry about it."

I nodded calmly, even managing a polite smile.

I walked over to Julian, ready to take him home.

Three years. Even if it was over, I wanted to end it when we were both sober, to give our relationship a clean finish.

Julian was clearly black-out drunk.

His hazy eyes focused on me. Suddenly, he yanked me into his arms, burying his head in my neck and rubbing his cheek against mine affectionately.

Someone whistled.

"Looks like Julian can't wait to get his fiancée home!"

"Hey, watch it, man! You'll make Chloe blush!"

The noise seemed to annoy Julian. He irritably pushed his friend's hand away, his grip on my wrist tightening as he shouted.

"Selena! You're finally here to see me."

The room went dead silent.

Only Julian's voice, thick with emotion, echoed in the space.

"Selena, do you have any idea how much I've missed you?"

"Selena, don't ignore me, please?"

"Selena, I love you... God, I love you so much..."

I didn't scream like a madwoman. I didn't try to drag him out.

I just gently stroked his hair and whispered.

"Okay, I know."

"Stop making a fuss. Go to sleep."

Maybe the name Selena really was magic. As soon as he heard it, Julian quieted down and fell into a deep sleep.

I bit my lip so hard I could taste the metallic tang of blood.

"Sorry, everyone. Julian's not feeling well." I stood up, smoothing out my dress. "I'm not taking him back to the apartment. Could you guys get him a room at the hotel upstairs? Let him sleep it off."

I grabbed my purse to leave.

As I reached the door, Brad finally couldn't hold it in anymore. He ran after me, trying to explain.

"Chloe, about what just happened... don't take it to heart. Julian really cares about you. With Selena, it's more like... an obsession, you know? It's hard to get over your first love. But I can tell, he loves you now."

"You're about to get engaged. He's just stressed out, talking nonsense..."

I held up a hand, cutting him off.

In his pity-filled eyes, I saw my own reflection―red-rimmed eyes, a pale face, looking every bit the pathetic wife who just found out her husband was cheating.

I let out a small laugh and looked back at him.

"No need to explain, Brad."

"Julian and I won't be getting engaged anyway."