Gone Was His Jasmine

After working five years as Ethan Moore's ghost architect, he once again handed off the position of the project lead to someone else.

As usual, he dangled the carrot in my face. “Think about the bigger picture, Arya. Just wait a little longer. Until the firm’s next round of funding, and we get listed on the stock market, I promise I’ll make you the lead architect of the next project…”

When I was twenty-one, I was a fool who willingly staked everything in an uncertain future with him. Now, I am twenty-eight. Years of waiting and endless revisions of blueprints had whittled away all the love and courage I once had.

I packed up my portfolio and gave up on my lifelong dream of becoming an architect in Manhattan. I gave up on him as well.

I’m not waiting anymore, Ethan.

At an Architecture Awards ceremony in New York, the ballroom of a luxury hotel located in Midtown Manhattan was filled to the brim with business elites. They fashioned themselves in all varieties of luxury name brands.

Ethan stood underneath the spotlight with a deep-set look in his eyes, eyes that easily mesmerized countless Ivy League girls. He surveyed the floor before crowning the design of Sophie Vanderbilt as the winner of the competition.

I gripped my champagne glass so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Soon, the crowd rose into a standing ovation.

This was my fifth year as a ghost architect. It was also the final year of the laborious contract I had signed with Moore Architects. The contract signed was “Terms of Promotion for Senior Partnership.”

My boyfriend, Ethan Moore, was the head juror of the competition. He had crowned the twenty-three-year-old Sophie Vanderbilt, the daughter of a real estate tycoon, with an impressive score of 92.8. Just like that, he propped her on the stage and practically shoved me off a cliff.

Sophie stepped off the stage in a regal haute couture gown designed by Valentino. Her Jimmy Choo high heels clicked against the tiles while she advanced straight towards me.

“Oh my god, Arya, I’m so sorry…” Her sparkling blue eyes shone innocently as she spoke, suggesting greater talent in acting than architecture.

“I never expected to win,” she lamented.

Then, Ethan approached us with a hand tucked in his suit pocket. He stated proudly, “Sophie, when has a winner ever lowered themselves to apologize?”

He paused briefly to sweep a look over me, but he did not let his gaze linger.

“Arya, she’s a newcomer. Let her have it. You know how important this is for the firms’ funding. There’s always next time for you.”

They stood as a pair over me.

Sophie smiled radiantly with Ethan’s arm hovering protectively behind her. Standing together, they looked like the picture-perfect power couple stamped on the cover of a magazine.

I stared intently into Ethan’s eyes, trying to see if there was any resemblance of guilt or aversion in his eyes. However, I could not find