What truly decides the beginning and end of a relationship?

Mutual affection?

Shared interests? A third party’s interference?

Are manipulative games outdated?

Probably none of these.

For me, all the above were just grazing the edges of my tangled emotions—they all played a part, after all.

But now, one crucial question remains before me—

Did we break up?

*Really* break up? Though we never truly started, I felt no loss. Instead, a lightness settled over me. Like shedding one layer of disguise made the others easier to bear. Yet this changed nothing: every inch of me was still wrapped in disguises yearning to become "true things."

Can emotions built on falseness ever be genuine? I don’t believe so. Sure, fake-it-till-you-make-it endings exist—but I’d never want that crowd-pleasing finale. I prefer stories that leave you stunned or laughing through tears—

Post-breakup, shouldn’t I be sobbing, binge-eating like girls supposedly do? What about guys? Shouldn’t I pull an all-nighter gaming? Yet I felt none of that. Instead, my mind cleared—I could finally focus on studying. I was eerily calm, even to myself.

I stood frozen, staring into the distance. Then turned away without hesitation. Walked off like nothing happened. Like I’d just witnessed strangers’ breakup.

My mind was ice-cold—terrifyingly so. Yet one thing lingered: the girl’s unforgettable words, and her tear-streaked face.

*"Just who the hell... do you think you are to judge me..."*

Xiamo said this after blinking hard two or three times, fighting tears. Then a single tear escaped. Soon, they flooded out like a dam bursting.

She turned away, scrubbing her face with her sleeve. The tears wouldn’t stop. She kept wiping long after turning her back, as if even she didn’t understand why she cried. Of course—I’m an outsider. My first thought? *She must like me. Can’t handle us splitting.* But I crushed that idea instantly—

*"We’re both fakes... What makes you any different? You’re no better than me. I throw those words right back at you."*

Next second, she fled like a madwoman. I didn’t chase her. Had no reason to. I don’t know why I stood there ten minutes after she left before trudging home. Yet that turn felt resolute. Contradictory, right? Desperate to stay, yet leaving felt strangely freeing—

Truth was, I’d only agreed to Xiamo’s proposal for selfish reasons. To save face. I lied, claiming I was Mengxiang’s boyfriend for *her* sake.

If I had to explain it? Just another escape.

Honestly, my childhood friend confessing to me wasn’t some earth-shattering secret. People forget these things. But everyone wants to be the exception—

Like hearing "X confessed to Y at Z spot." In two days, you’d only recall *someone* confessed *somewhere*. Forgotten. But as the one involved? No one wants that exposed. Back then, Xiamo was my lifeline.

I’d grown used to forcing my thoughts onto others. Guess I really am weak. Before this cowardly escape, vanity drove me: *"My girlfriend’s the school’s #1 beauty."* That ridiculous reason smoothly made me Xiamo’s boyfriend.

In the end, I’m just a fraud. Xiamo was right—we *are* the same kind of creature. So I must discard that hazy fantasy: seeing her as sunlight, me as some shadow-dweller beneath it. Today changed everything.

Xiamo must be a Pinocchio-type liar. Or someone who treats jokes as truth. And me? The perfect opposite of *"Don’t impose on others what you hate yourself."* More like *"I force my thoughts onto everyone."*

I tried tucking my restless heart into my pockets like cold hands. But no container could hold its weight. It just shivered in the city’s clamor.

Sunsets usually grace this hillside on my walk home. Perfect for a tragic drama’s finale. But it was too early for dusk—

And I saw something beyond the sunset.

A familiar girl stood atop the slope. The one who caused our split—no. Two corrections needed: First, we never broke up. We never even started. Second, blaming others again? Pathetic.

I won’t make Zixuan the cause—direct or indirect. Truth is, we just grew tired of this life. *I* grew tired. Even pushovers snap.

*"You seem upset. Something wrong?"*

She spotted the gloom on my face instantly. Do I have "unhappy" stamped on my forehead? Probably not. So she can read minds? Ridiculous. The last person who crawled into my head became a demon that devoured my sanity.

*"That obvious? Guess my acting needs work—"*

*"Acting? Why learn such things?"*

She still wore our school uniform. Did she own nothing but this and pajamas? She’s a girl—shouldn’t she have more clothes?

But—what if she just loves wearing uniforms on days off? Fine. I’ll allow myself this tiny assumption.

*"Do you treat uniforms like casual wear? Ours *could* pass for streetwear... but still."*

I teased her. She just smiled, dodging the question. Avoiding it? Whatever. I lacked energy to press further—

*"Why wait here? Skipped exams again? Planning to wander all day tomorrow?"*

*"Then you’ll keep me company! Only morning exams tomorrow, right? We’ll play in the afternoon! Oh—and let’s go clothes shopping. This uniform’s all I own—"*

Zixuan answered properly this time. But the joy in her voice unsettled me. Could my company make her *this* happy?

Where did she even go on non-school days? Whatever. I was free tomorrow afternoon—but emotionally drained after today’s battle. No energy for outings.

*"Tomorrow afternoon... probably not. We’ll see."*

*"Oh..."*

She dipped her head, disappointed. Shouldn’t she be angry after rejection? Yet she wasn’t. Maybe I’m losing touch with girls’ minds. But why bother untangling that mess?

*"You... won’t lie to me, right?"*

*"Hm? Sorry, didn’t catch that. Could you repeat it?"*

*"Nothing. Just... walking together like this feels new."*

*"Really? We’ll have many chances! After all—I adore you!"*

*Adore?* That word felt too heavy...