"Nina, Henry is bringing his girlfriend home today."
Nina Broomfield had barely limped into the living room, her injured leg dragging behind her, when Serena Blanton greeted her with a face full of excitement.
The moment those words landed, Nina’s ears burned red.
Two years of being Henry Blanton’s secret lover—was he finally ready to make their relationship public?
Her heart jumped to her throat, but before she could even savor that hope, Serena added, "He really adores this girl, you know!"
"They were together back in college. After she went abroad, he moped around for ages. Thank goodness she’s back now. The moment he saw her again, the boy lit up like Chinese New Year."
"And look at him—barely reconciled and already rushing her home to meet me and your uncle."
Nina’s smile froze mid‑air.
The more she listened, the more wrong it felt.
Who exactly was this girl Serena was talking about?
She braced herself against the wall, forcing down the stabbing pain in her ankle, and asked in a trembling voice, "Aunt Serena… are you sure you’re not mixing things up?"
Just a few days ago on video call, Henry had told her he missed her. How on earth could he be bringing another girl home?
"Of course I’m not mistaken!"
Serena seemed to suddenly remember something and laughed even harder. "Nina, let me tell you a secret—I saw them kissing on the street yesterday! My son is usually so cold, but when he’s in love? Oh my god, he turns into a complete sap."
Nina refused to believe Henry had betrayed her. She fumbled for her phone, ready to call him and clear up whatever misunderstanding this was—
But the front door opened before she could dial.
Henry Blanton walked in, fingers tightly laced with Olivia Winters’.
The moment he saw Nina, a flicker of panic flashed through his dark eyes.
Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to return early from the Haicheng training.
But then, remembering that she’d find out sooner or later about him and Olivia getting back together, the panic faded, replaced by a cool indifference.
He tightened his grip on Olivia’s hand and introduced her calmly. "Mom, this is Olivia."
"Hello, Auntie."
When Olivia Winters’s gaze brushed past Nina, a flash of guilt flickered in those soft, doe‑like eyes.
Henry Blanton had only clung to her back then because of that incident. And if he ever found out that the one involved back in those days… had actually been Nina Broomfield—
No. He could never know. Not in this lifetime.
The thought barely settled before she curved her lips again, wearing that practiced, graceful smile—bright, flawless, perfectly in place.
"Great. Really great."
Serena Blanton looked at Olivia Winters with growing fondness. "You know, Nina and Olivia actually look quite alike. Must be fate. People say if you're not a family, you won’t end up under the same roof."
"You young folks have more to talk about. Go on, chat. I’ll check on dinner."
Nina’s face went stark white as she looked at Olivia.
They really did resemble each other—three, maybe four parts out of ten.
So that was it? She was just Olivia’s stand‑in?
She’d rushed back today, even with an injured leg, skipping the hospital just to surprise him on their second anniversary—only to walk straight into him and his long-lost first love, reunited like some dramatic fairytale?
Honestly, what a joke.
"Henry, she is…?"
Nina was drowning in her thoughts when Olivia’s soft, lilting voice drifted over.
Nina slowly lifted her head, staring at Henry without blinking.
She wanted to know how he would introduce her.
Girlfriend? Or had she silently been downgraded to the ex who didn’t even deserve a mention?
Then she heard his voice—light, careless, with that cold edge he rarely showed her. "She’s an old neighbor who stayed with us. Her adoptive parents passed away, and my parents took her in out of pity."
So. Not a girlfriend. Not even an ex. Just an old neighbor.
Nina bit down on her lip so hard she tasted iron. Her fingers trembled violently, clutching her clothes until the fabric twisted out of shape. She was still struggling to breathe through the pain tearing her apart when he added, "She’s not anyone important."
Those words carved straight into her chest.
She had loved him with everything she had, thrown her whole heart into him without reservation. All that devotion, all that blind faith—and in the end, it earned her nothing more than a flat, indifferent she’s not important.
A thousand arrows through the heart probably hurt less.
Right then, Nina suddenly felt that liking him… was just pointless.
"Yeah," she said, forcing the words out, "we’re just old neighbors. Nothing more at all."
