After I Lost My Memory, My Star Athlete Boyfriend Said We Broke Up Chapter 03

After I Lost My Memory, My Star Athlete Boyfriend Said We Broke Up Chapter 03

Camille paused, then replied calmly. “This is my office. I don’t need anyone’s approval to clear out whatever I want.”

A crack appeared in Killian’s composure, though he quickly smoothed his features into blank indifference. “Suit yourself. They’re just old junk anyway, not worth keeping.”

He spun and stormed out.

A chill settled over Camille. Comments drifted across her vision.

[He’s so stubborn you can barely believe it. His hands were shaking with rage a second ago, yet he pretends none of it matters!]

[If he truly didn’t care, why rush over here mid-training without changing his kit? He ran straight from practice just to spout that line about “old junk”?]

[Keep acting tough. We’ll make his redemption arc extra painful—let him grovel properly!]

Camille let out a dry, weary laugh.

The next day, Camille arrived at the soccer field on schedule. An open practice match was underway, livestreamed for fans, and the stands were packed.

Killian played with ferocious energy today. Every touch carried unrestrained momentum, like a racehorse freed from its reins.

With one minute remaining on the clock, he received a cross at the edge of the penalty area and unleashed a sharp-angle shot.

Goal. The match ended 1-0 as the final whistle blew.

The stands erupted; spectators leaped to their feet cheering. Teammates swarmed Killian and lifted him high, every eye fixed on the star striker.

Camille smiled. This goal would push Killian’s market value even higher.

Then she watched him shove past his teammates and sprint toward the sidelines.

Maren waited by the barrier, waving excitedly. Killian reached her, cupped the back of her head, and leaned down to kiss her.

The stadium roared louder. He pulled away from Maren, turned toward the nearest camera, and flashed a bold wink.

The crowd’s cheers intensified.

Camille’s expression darkened. The live comments nearly obscured her sight.

[He did that on purpose! This is pure provocation after she cleared his things from her office!]

[He’s upset she let go of him, so he wants her hurt just as badly!]

[Once, every time he scored, his eyes searched the stands for her first. When she missed one game, he snapped at everyone after the match. Reporters asked what was wrong, and he said, “Scoring means nothing without her here.”]

[I remember that too! He scored twice single-handedly, the whole stadium chanted his name, yet he bolted straight to Camille, spinning her into his arms. His teammates were stunned.]

[The pain is unbearable. Please make them reconcile already, stop torturing us readers.]

Camille clenched her fists until her knuckles whitened. She watched Killian laugh with his arm wrapped around Maren, and that same inexplicable tightness seized her chest again.

She couldn’t explain why, but she could no longer bear to watch.

Camille turned to leave. The team coach, who had never liked her, sneered mockingly. “Some women throw themselves at athletes, and what do they get? Not even the title of girlfriend.”

“Don’t end up pouring all your energy into this just to walk away empty-handed, losing both him and your money.”

“I never wanted him,” Camille cut him off coldly. “I only need him to earn profits for me. Do you really think his female fans will stay calm after watching him kiss another woman on a livestream? Instead of arguing with me, you ought to start preparing for media fallout.”

The coach’s face stiffened, then he smiled knowingly. “Believe whatever lies you tell yourself.”

She knew he still expected her to clean up Killian’s messes—and worse, she couldn’t prove him wrong.

Anger bubbled inside her, and she turned to leave.

For the sake of the profits, Camille decided to talk to Killian about protecting his fanbase. She waited outside his locker room.

As she stood there, her mother called.

She picked up, and her mother didn’t waste time. “Come home next week. I’ve set you up on a blind date. You’re meeting him.”

Camille frowned. “I don’t want to.”

“You have no choice!” Her mother raised her voice sharply. “You’re not getting any younger, obsessing over work nonstop. Is that soccer player going to build a life with you?”

Camille opened her mouth to reply, then stopped. Arguing would only spark a fight, and she lacked the energy to smooth things over. “We’ll see.”

She hung up and turned, only to lock eyes with Killian. He looked confident, as if certain of his victory.

His low voice was slow and deliberate, like a hunter drawing a net tight. “Is this memory loss all an act?”