Chapter 1: Goodbye, My Happy Ending

The sky, wrapped in a thick, dark gray woolen shroud, seemed to close in like a predator circling its unsuspecting prey. It wasn't supposed to rain for another few weeks, but the ominous clouds told a different story. A low rumble echoed through the cool air, making her flinch slightly. Lazy droplets of rain began to fall, as if they had nothing better to do. A lone figure, draped in a maroon silk gown, stood on the balcony of a dimly lit condo. In the background, Bach's "Cello Suite No. 1" played softly, its melancholic notes filling the room. The only light came from a computer screen inside, where a Weibo profile was open. The profile belonged to Christina, who had posted something just thirty minutes earlier. The photo in the post was of a handwritten note, simple yet heavy with emotion: "I guess it was just wishful thinking on my part that I spent years waiting for a happy ending. Now... I'm just too tired..." The post was brief, but it conveyed the deep feelings she had been too afraid to voice aloud. As the weak, gray light from the overcast sky filtered down, it illuminated the figure of a young woman standing on the balcony. The cold wind brushed against her body, making her shiver, but she didn't move. Her dark eyes were hollow, and her pale skin had taken on a rosy hue from the chill in the air. She extended her bare arm, letting the rain splash against her fingers. As the cold droplets traced paths down her hand, she turned her fingers upward, watching the water run down like tiny rivers. The rhythmic patter of the rain, combined with the mournful music behind her, created a strange sense of comfort. She recalled a saying she'd read somewhere: "One day, your life will flash before your eyes, make sure it's worth watching." Was her life worth watching? She pondered this, only to sneer at the absurdity of the thought. "Christy, don't be delusional," a mocking voice echoed in her mind. "You're nothing more than a green tea bitch. Who cares that you're the pure goddess of the entertainment industry worshipped by millions?" The voice taunted her. "Look, I just proved to the world that you're nothing more than a lowly prostitute who slept her way up. Let's see how long you can hold on to your pride." Was she really just a prostitute? She had worked tirelessly her entire life, all in the hopes of holding her head high among her upper-class peers. But now, after all her hard work, was this what it had come to? Despite being idolized and adored by millions, she was still nothing more than a prostitute in the eyes of the elite. "Christina, you've left me with no pride. Is this why I raised you? I helped you become the top star just so you could ruin my name with your filthy scandals? What kind of crime did I commit to be burdened with an ungrateful and useless daughter like you?" Her mother's harsh words echoed in her mind, cutting deep. She was a product of a broken family, leading a broken life, driven by broken dreams. And in the end, even he had left her with a broken heart. She had known from the start that his status was far beyond her own, but that hadn't stopped her heart from falling for him. He had said, "I love you!" and the naive girl in her had believed him. He had promised, "I will never let you be wronged," and she had trusted him. He had vowed, "In this life, only you deserve to be my wife," and she had foolishly believed every word. But maybe she had needed a wake-up call. And unfortunately, the reality check had been too much for her already fragile heart to bear. She laughed bitterly at herself, but the laughter quickly turned into a steady stream of tears that slid down her flushed cheeks. She covered her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. But how long can anyone suppress such deep-seated pain? Behind her, the computer screen showed her post, already flooded with comments: "I can't believe I loved you from the moment you debuted. Who knew you were such a vicious person?" "Look, look! Our so-called pure goddess is trying to gain sympathy. But guess what? We don't care." "The commenter above, I'm with you. This slut didn't even bother clearing up the scandals. Not that I was expecting her to be innocent." "Chris, you let me down. I believed in you, but you let me down." "Ha! You must really be tired after rolling around in bed with all those investors." "I can't believe with that kind of character, you tried to steal someone's husband. How shameful of you!" "Some people have no shame at all. You should just leave the industry already. You don't even deserve to be a mistress." "Chris, if you like money so much, come to this young master. I have plenty of money to spend on you." "Christina, just go and die already!" On the cold, wet balcony, she stood with her eyes closed, as if she could hear all those voices screaming at her. She took a step forward, letting the wind and rain batter her body, hoping to numb the pain that had been eating away at her heart. The world didn't matter anymore; scorn always came with fame. But what had truly shattered her were his words... No matter how she had tried to explain, he wouldn't listen. She had begged him to trust her, but he hadn't. Was their love so fragile? So fragile that he couldn't even give her the one thing she asked for: trust. As the rain soaked her to the bone, she stood motionless, refusing to let herself feel anything. She shut out all the noise and sighed softly. "I wonder if you'll miss me if I'm gone. I wonder if you'll believe in me once I'm no longer here," she thought to herself as she climbed onto the wicker chair on the balcony, looking down. From the twenty-fifth floor, everything below seemed distant and unreal, shrouded in darkness and shadowed by the gray clouds. Closing her eyes, she smiled with a sense of finality. She leaned forward, and in the next instant, the strong wind slapped against her face as her body plummeted. "Goodbye, my happy ending," she whispered softly through pale, trembling lips.