Boyfriend Stood Me Up Seventeen Times And Said Next Time—I Quit Chapter 10

Boyfriend Stood Me Up Seventeen Times And Said Next Time—I Quit Chapter 10

One year later, I flew back home to host my first solo design exhibition, titled Self Echoes.

Reporters and industry peers filled the gallery on opening day. A journalist pulled me aside for an interview.

“Rumor says you turned down an overseas career opportunity once for a relationship. Do you regret that choice now?”

I thought for a moment before answering.

“I don’t regret any part of my journey. Every experience shaped who I am today.”

“But if I could go back, I would have chosen myself much sooner.”

The interview wrapped up. I spotted Julian standing alone in a quiet corner of the gallery, away from the crowds.

He wore a dark coat and looked older and quieter than before. He held no flowers or gifts. He simply stood and watched me from a distance.

I could have pretended not to see him, but I chose to walk over.

“It’s been a long time.”

His gaze met mine, his voice rough.

“Yes, it has.”

We stood half a step apart. The distance was small, yet it felt like an entire lifetime separated us.

He glanced at the large display photo of Echoes on the wall.

“It’s stunning work.”

“Thank you.”

He paused briefly.

“Are you happy now?”

A genuine smile touched my lips.

“I am.”

He heard the honesty in my answer, and his eyes grew misty. He forced a small smile in return.

“That’s all I ever wanted to know.”

“Chloe, I didn’t come here to beg you to take me back.”

“I just needed to say I’m truly sorry, face to face.”

“And thank you for loving me once.”

I looked at him. No anger remained in my heart, no lingering love either. Only a faint sense of sorrow for what could have been.

“I accept your apology.”

A flicker of hope lit up his face for a split second.

I finished my sentence firmly.

“But there will never be a future for us again.”

The light in his eyes faded completely. He lowered his head.

“I know.”

A voice called from across the gallery.

“Chloe, we need you for group photos with the media.”

“I’m coming,” I replied.

I turned to leave, but Julian spoke one last time.

“Chloe… would things have turned out differently if I’d woken up sooner?”

I stopped walking and turned back to face him.

“Yes,” I said clearly.

He lifted his head quickly, hope returning once more.

“If you had made things right the very first time I felt disappointed, things would have been different.”

“If you had rushed home on my birthday instead of staying away, things would have been different.”

“If you had asked me why I was upset the day I said we should break up, instead of laughing and thinking it was just about a bag, things would have been different too.”

“But life doesn’t give us do-overs.”

“You didn’t just miss one single moment. You missed every single chance I gave you.”

His face paled completely as my words sank in.

I said nothing more and walked toward the group waiting for photos.
Julian did not follow.

Flashbulbs popped continuously during the group shot. I stood in the center, calm and confident.

Sienna told me later that Julian sat on a bench outside the gallery long after closing time. He stared at the exhibition poster with red eyes.

When security asked him to leave, he finally stood up. He bought a postcard printed with the design Echoes from the exhibition gift shop.

Printed on the back were my words:

[Love isn’t waiting for someone else to hear you. It’s learning to listen to yourself.]

He slipped the postcard inside his wallet, a final tribute to our lost past.

It had nothing to do with me anymore.

My exhibition ended, and I prepared to fly back to Paris.

Sienna texted me before my flight took off.

[Text me once you land safely.]

[Will do,] I replied.

[Will you come back to visit often?]

I looked out the airplane window at the sprawling city below.

“I’ll come back,” I wrote.

“Not for anyone else, though. Only because I want to.”

The plane climbed higher into the sky, and the city shrank away beneath the clouds.

I thought back to seven-year-old Julian standing in front of me, vowing to protect me forever. His words had been sincere back then.

Eighteen-year-old Julian confessing his love had been sincere too.

The man who eventually let me slip away was also real.

I did not deny our shared history, but I would never be trapped by it again.

I once placed all my dreams and romance on one single person. I waited for him to remember my likes, to keep his promises, to put me first.

I finally understand now: loving yourself is the greatest lifelong romance of all.

As for Julian?

His belated remorse is far too little, too late.

My future holds no place for him anymore.