On the internet, Chau Trang Di was always seen as a quiet, reserved girl with only a handful of friends. But those lucky enough to truly know her would say: “She’s dazzling and beautiful in ways you couldn’t possibly understand.”

That winter marked one of the most painful relationships of her life. Chau Trang Di, 23, a student at Lawrence University in the U.S., met Ivan.

The cold of that season was piercing, the ground blanketed in snow. Flakes fell into his hair, and her auburn curls whipped in the wind, brushing faintly across Ivan’s pale skin. Her voice was firm, unwavering:
“It’s over. I’m tired of you.”

His blue-gray eyes trembled, tears gathering at the corners. He looked at her in heartbreak.
“Why?”
He reached out to caress her cheek, but she turned away. Meeting his gaze, she said:
“It’s true—I cheated. And yes, I’m tired of you. I don’t like half-breeds. I’m sorry, Ivan.”

A sharp pain flickered in his eyes. Chau Zhang Di glanced at his dark hair falling messily across his face. Her tone softened:
“Even after I’m gone, Ivan… promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

With a slight bow of her head, she turned on her heel. Not even three years together, yet he had loved her so deeply.

Uneasy, she looked back. He was still staring at her, but this time his eyes were cold as ice. She couldn’t have known then that behind that gaze lay the shadow of her future—a trap he would weave for her five years later, where she would discover, too late, the truth he had hidden.

Two years later, she returned to her homeland. She erased all memories of Ivan, returned the love letters he once wrote, smoothed out the pressed rose petals he had given her. But the gifts she had given him—she never asked back.

She slipped quietly out of his life, just as silently as she had once stepped into his darkness.

“Tuc Duong, that’s enough!” Chau Trang Di shoved him away, meeting his eyes head-on. She slapped his cheek sharply, her voice rising:
“Tuc Duong, you’re drunk—wake up!”

Tuc Duong, also 23, had been her childhood companion—though truthfully, his feelings had always run deeper than hers.

He froze, staring at her before lowering his gaze. In a low, guilty murmur, he whispered:
“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have tried to force you, jie.”

Damn it. He was pouting again—how could she ever resist him like this?

Panicked, she fussed over him, apologizing again and again, her hands smoothing his hair, brushing his cheek, afraid she’d truly frightened him. But then she grew serious, locking her eyes on those maddeningly charming ones and said firmly:
“Alright, I forgive you. But don’t ever behave like that again.”