Freddie watched my serene face and made his decision. He was going to defy fate for me.
The system thought he’d gone mad and kept trying to talk him out of it.
His points weren’t enough to rewind time again, let alone rewrite my fate. The only way left was to exchange his own fate with mine.
Coincidentally, that was exactly what Freddie planned to do.
The system didn’t understand. It asked him, “Why? Is she really worth it?”
Freddie remembered the day we planted the camellia tree together. He smiled, then leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead.
“Maybe at first, I just pitied her. But now I’ve truly fallen in love with her. She’s wonderful, and she’s worth it.”
The system reminded him again that even a fate exchange required points to execute, and they were currently short on points.
So Freddie made a painful decision. He would start earning points from my Heartbreak Level.
After my confession, he began to torment me emotionally. He even convinced the system to play the role of a fictitious first love to deepen the wound
To provoke me even more, the system chose an appearance similar to my eyes. The effect was significant.
In the days that followed, it seemed like I was the only one suffering. But in reality, we were torturing each other.
Still, there was something strange about me.
My love was deep, but my hatred was shallow.
So Freddie had no choice but to get rid of the camellia tree we had planted together, the symbol of our bond. When the petals fell, my Heartbreak Level soared to almost 90.
I moved out early the next morning.
Freddie stood by the window, watching my slender figure fade into the distance. His heart twisted in agony
Chapter 11
+25 BONUS
The last 10% of the Heartbreak Level naturally came from the words he had spoken the day before his wedding.
The moment I closed my eyes, my Heartbreak Level finally hit 100%.
The system said he should go and say goodbye. But knowing the memories would remain, Freddie chose not to.
Instead, he said silently in his heart, “Goodbye, Rosalie.”
Much later, the glass box that held the preserved camellia was etched with a message.
“In the grid of time, spring and autumn always pass each other by. One person’s silence is sorrow, while two people’s silence is farewell. A tsunami raged in both our hearts, but we couldn’t bear to let the other know. Just like the camellia in late March, quietly falling when the wind sings its final verse.”
