However, the next day, I stood him up.
The reason was that my friend, Henry, had been admitted to the hospital at 5 AM.
Apparently, he had a severe case of hemorrhoids and was bleeding profusely.
He only knew me in this area, so of course, I had to go.
As for Alexander, I had to call a ride for him.
By 2 PM, he insisted on being discharged.
The doctor checked on him briefly and allowed it.
I planned to go home and grab a few outfits to take care of him for the next few days, and I took him back to my house on the way.
He was waiting for me downstairs.
As soon as I entered, Alexander was sitting in the living room with a stern expression, while Liam was in the room, working on his test papers.
My friend, Henry, urged me loudly: "Isabella, hurry up! I can't be left alone here!"
Under Alexander's gaze, I went upstairs to grab my clothes.
As I passed Liam's room on the way downstairs, I whispered: "I'm going to stay at a friend's house for a few days. He just had surgery and needs someone with him."
Alexander paused while grading papers and a long streak appeared on his paper.
Yet, he didn't say anything, which made me uneasy.
Liam leaned out of the window: "It's a guy, huh? Just a heads-up—if you don't leave soon, he'll be marching through our door with that swagger of his."
I frowned: "Fine—I'll go then."
Since that day, I tried to explain to Alexander on the phone but received no response.
Two days later, I couldn't sit still anymore and drove to his place.
That night, the moon was so bright it was almost frightening, revealing the boundaries between us in the glaring light.
Alexander was standing in the moonlight, wearing a black T-shirt, his hair slightly damp.
The evening breeze ruffled the ends of his hair.
He exuded a sense of detachment and coldness.
His words were just as chilling.
"Isabella, this needs to end here."
"We're not right for each other."
He paused and continued: "After the lesson next week, I'll be leaving."
I quietly murmured, "Okay."
To be honest, I wasn't sad, just a little heavy in my chest.
Well, let's call it quits then.
I smiled and nodded: "Fine, we'll go our separate ways."
"Alexander, I guess—"
"I wasn't that into you."
I turned and got into the car.
He pursed his lips but ultimately went upstairs.
That night, I packed my bags.
Liam had already reported me to my parents, saying I had a crush on their tutor.
Well, this time, I claimed it was because of an unrequited love that I needed to go abroad for some emotional healing.
To my surprise, I ended up crying until my eyes were swollen.
Liam, unusually concerned, asked when he sent me off in a taxi: "Did he bully you? Why are you crying like that?"
I rubbed my eyes as I climbed into the taxi: "Yeah, he's just a big idiot!"
…
Seven years later, we meet again.
At 29, my parents insisted that I meet with one of the suitors they had arranged.
However, my reputation in social circles wasn't great, mainly because I was often seen with male models.
The photos made it back.
In those photos, I was measuring the waist of a handsome guy with blonde hair and blue eyes, holding a pencil.
But I must say, that was all rumors!
First of all, I'm a designer.
Secondly, I needed to take measurements for work, so naturally, there was close contact.
But somehow, the rumor spread that I was swapping boyfriends every month!
Gossip is a terrible thing.
…
Among all the suitors, most came and went quickly.
He was the last one, and the one who truly caught my heart.
He wore a tailored suit, and gold-rimmed glasses, and had his hair neatly combed.
It was lightly raining outside, making the mood feel oddly heavy.
He took a sip of coffee and, while staring at the rain outside, casually asked: "I've heard of Miss Isabella's story. Was there ever someone you truly liked?"
I looked at his meticulously folded cuffs, considering my words carefully: "Mr. Montgomery, you're joking. I'm sure I've had moments of excitement in my youth, but I wouldn't call it love."
He glanced at me with a tone bordering on sarcasm: "Really? Then Miss Isabella's excitement seems rather cheap."
I froze.
He probably thought I was one of those socialites.
I couldn't stand it, so I grabbed his arm: "Mr. Montgomery, I'm not sure what you mean by that!"
"But I must clarify for myself: work requires me to interact with male models. I'm not a saint! Of course, I've had brief moments of attraction!"
"Not liking someone means not liking them, outside of work, I've never kept in touch with any of them!"
I stood up and stormed off.
But then, I got caught in the rain right outside the store.
He came over with an umbrella: "Miss Isabella, may I escort you?"
"No need!"
"Alright."
With a slight, almost invisible smile, he walked into the rain holding the umbrella.
God, you're making me look bad.
I thought our relationship had ended.
My mom kept pushing me into more blind dates.
But two days later, he called me.
On Monday, when the Civil Affairs Bureau opened, we got our marriage certificate.
After we got married, we met three times in the first month.
In the second month, I went on a business trip.
In the third month, he went abroad to study.
Half a year after marriage, we've hardly seen each other.
In fact, after seven years, I really don't have much of an impression of the person he was back then.
To be honest, even when it comes to his name, I had doubts.
I secretly asked Liam, and that guy said they had lost contact long ago.
Later, I tried to probe again, and Alexander casually said, "Must be a coincidence with the name."
I was half convinced.
Back then, Alexander clearly told me that he didn't like me. How could he have married me seven years later?
In other words, waiting for someone for seven years—this is something I've only seen in movies.
In the movies, seven years always pass in the blink of an eye.
But in reality, every day and night drags on, real and tangible.
So, how could Alexander be the same as the teacher from back then?
That's what I thought.
If the person I liked were foolish enough to wait for me for seven years and didn't say anything after marriage, I would definitely, definitely, definitely punch him to death!
So, if you see a battered Alexander, don't be surprised.
It was Mrs. Montgomery who did it.
Alexander really did wait for me for seven years.
Alexander's Side Story
Once, I was invited to a school to give a lecture.
As the class was about to end, a student stood up and asked: "Professor Montgomery, we're almost out of time, can I ask you a question that's off-topic?"
I put down the textbook and said, "Sure."
"Did you really wait for Mrs. Montgomery for seven years? How did you spend those seven years?"
I nodded: "Well, to be honest, it wasn't quite seven years."
"Because I tricked her into signing the marriage certificate six months earlier."
There was a burst of laughter around the room.
I adjusted my glasses and continued: "Actually, for me, waiting was never a long thing. This might be because of my medical research background; I have a lot of patience."
"During those seven years, I worked on medical problems while waiting for her to come back. It wasn't too hard to endure."
"Honestly, I wasn't even sure if I could wait for her. There were too many uncertainties between us. But one thing I was certain of—when she wasn't around, I never planned to get married."
When I found out she cried her eyes out and went abroad, I regretted it.
But at that time, I couldn't give her what she wanted.
Even basic needs were a problem.
She acted on a whim, but my emotions had been disturbed by her for many years.
A female student asked: "Professor, after seven years, didn't you miss out on a foundation for a relationship?"
I put the textbook into my bag and answered: "That's true, we didn't have a foundation for a relationship. So after we got married, we started dating."
"But I wouldn't recommend you do what I did."
"Life is unpredictable, seven years can change a lot of things."
"I'm just thankful that after seven years, she hasn't become someone else's wife."
A few more students raised their hands.
I smiled and declined.
The reason was, I saw Isabella holding our daughter outside the classroom.
"My wife is still waiting for me to go home and cook, let's end class for today."
I took our daughter from Isabella's arms. The little one pressed her chubby face against mine.
She began to nibble on my face, and her little hands poked the other side of my cheek.
Isabella wrapped her arm around mine and asked excitedly: "What did you just say?"
A passing student replied: "Mrs. Montgomery! Professor was just talking about waiting for you for seven years."
Isabella casually added: "Don't learn from your professor, it'll get you punched!"
The student was shocked: "Huh? Did Professor Montgomery get punched?"
Isabella teased me with a glance: "I didn't punch him, but I sure had a little one torture him."
"See, she's nibbling on him now."
I smiled and nodded, taking Isabella's arm and heading out.
When we got to an empty floor, Isabella poked my waist again: "Isn't that right, Professor Montgomery?"
Sure enough, the bite marks on my waist were still there.
"Eek—"
The little one was still chewing on my face.
"Ha ha ha, your daughter agrees!"
That's the way it is.
In this life, whatever they say goes.
And I'm happy to oblige.
