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Chapter 1

Davina Pov.

Breakups weren't a strange and heart-wrenching feeling anymore; they were my new normal, thanks to Vincent, my on-again, off-again boyfriend from college.

I'd lost count of how many times we'd broken up, and it had become a casual feeling to just walk away from the one you love. But today, I wished he had done it over the phone.

Bringing me my favorite diner and having my best meal served, only to break up with me, was absolute torture. Especially since I had no one at home to console me or tell me everything would be alright.

"Don't look so forlorn, Davina. I'm doing this for your happiness," he said, his voice laced with insincerity. "I don't want to hurt your feelings more than I already have. This job is eating so much of my time. You deserve someone who has time for you. I'm obviously not that candidate."

I slipped a bored look out of my upright expression. "Really, Vincent? You've made this speech countless times. How long do we have to keep going on and off?" I paused, my voice firm. "You know, I'm beginning to think you're taking my love for you for granted."

I flagged down a waiter, requesting a champagne, obviously on his bill, not mine. "But you've barely touched your meal and the wine," the waiter protested politely, but Vincent glared at him. "Is that how you do things here? Questioning your customers?"

"You don't have to pretend to care, Vincent," I said, ignoring his glare and turning back to the waiter with one of my sweet smiles. "I actually planned on getting a pack to gather these, home. Is that possible?"

"Yes, ma'am," he bobbed his head, taking notes. "You have a change of sixty-two dollars."

"Take that as your tip," I said, waving him off.

Vincent frowned, his expression childish. "What was the meaning of that? We could still have our last dinner together."

I rolled my eyes. "I have things I need to do at home. My father would get worried."

He sighed, his voice laced with condescension. "I know you're mad at me, Davina. But when you find someone else, you'll be grateful I broke up with you."

I flared, getting up from my seat. "You didn't break up with me, Vincent. You don't call the shots here, not anymore. I'm done with you and your inability to make a decision on what you want. Bye, Vincent."

The waiter came with the pack and got my things together. I gave Vincent a last long look before walking out, but as usual, he followed me. "At least let me drive you home," he pleaded, walking closer, and I took a step back.

"No-" I started, but a voice interrupted us.