The Seventh Chance

At Crestwood University, the love story of Vincent Fuller and Mira Saunders was the stuff of legends.

Vincent was the physics department's renowned heartthrob, known for his cold demeanor and an air that kept everyone at a distance.

Two people were exceptions.

One was his childhood sweetheart, Mira, with whom he shared a deep bond.

They were on the verge of ending their seven-year romance with marriage.

The other was Ella Clayton, a persistent admirer Vincent openly despised and avoided.

Despite his strict adherence to propriety, Vincent had told her to get lost countless times, yet she remained undeterred, chasing him for seven years.

Mira never took Ella seriously.

As the medical department's famous beauty, Mira saw Ella as an insignificant nobody in comparison.

That changed when Mira saw the nickname Vincent had given Ella on his phone.

He called her "Sweetheart."

For the first time, Mira lost her temper and gave Vincent the silent treatment.

That night, when she ignored his messages, Vincent, usually so proud, knelt before her, slapped himself hundreds of times, deleted and blocked all of Ella's contact information, and begged for forgiveness.

He swore solemnly that he would never hurt her again.

But soon after, Mira found a star-shaped hair tie in his pocket.

It was a style she had never used.

During their second fallout, Vincent didn't notice her anger for a full day.

When he did, he abandoned a multi-billion-dollar deal, flew to Seavelt to buy her favorite pineapple pastries, and waited for her in a freezing blizzard all night, nearly turning into an ice statue.

Mira's heart softened, and she forgave him.

The third time, Mira noticed the red safety charm she had given Vincent was now on Ella's wrist.

She told him, "Vincent, let's break up."

He went berserk, using his family's influence to ground planes and halt trains, chasing her down and holding her so tightly it felt like he wanted to meld her into his arms, tears streaming as he swore, "Mira, I love you so much. The thought of you leaving drives me insane."

Mira, dragging her suitcase, couldn't bring herself to leave.

Then came the fourth, fifth, and sixth times.

Vincent seemed to know her love for him was her weakness, certain she would always wait if he turned back.

Until the seventh time.

With their wedding approaching, they began living together.

During an intimate moment, Vincent got a call from an unknown number and hesitated before answering. "I've told you a hundred times, stop bothering me!"

Sweat beaded on his forehead, his expression impatient, his tone harsh.

A faint sob came from the other end. "Vincent, I'm not trying to bother you... but I think someone's following me. I'm scared."

Vincent froze, glancing at Mira's calm face, and said irritably, "Your phone has a one-tap emergency app. Press it, and the police will come."

He hung up.

"Mira..." He leaned down, whispering in her ear.

But his heavy breathing betrayed his agitation, his mind clearly elsewhere.

The next second, his phone rang again.

Vincent answered instinctively, "I already told you-"

Chaos erupted on the other end, rough male voices mixed with a helpless female cry. "Please, let me go..."

Vincent shot upright, his usually stoic face filled with panic, shouting, "Ella, where are you?!"

No response came.

He immediately checked his phone's GPS, grabbed his coat, and rushed toward the door.

"Vincent!" Mira's voice stopped him in his tracks. "This is the seventh time. We-"

Before she could finish, Vincent, frantic, cut in, "Mira, you heard what's happening. Someone's life is at stake. Whatever it is, we'll talk when I get back."

Without waiting for her reply, he hurried out.

Mira stared at the closed door, tears slowly trailing down her cheeks, soaking the pillow.

After forgiving Vincent the third time, she had made a serious pact with him, "Seven years of love, I'll forgive you seven times. After that, we're done."

Back then, he stared at his phone screen, mumbling an agreement.

Perhaps he never took her words to heart, which was why he trampled on her feelings time and again.

But he didn't know this time she was truly leaving.

Mira slowly pulled the blanket over herself, burying her entire body.

She and Vincent had been together for seven years, and Ella had pursued him for just as long.

In college, Mira and Vincent met in a general education class, becoming desk mates by chance.

During one class, her pen leaked ink, staining her clothes, and he immediately handed her his fountain pen, thoughtfully tying his jacket around her waist.

On Mira's birthday, she was engrossed in a lab experiment.

The lights went out, and Vincent appeared, holding a large bouquet of roses under soft ambient lighting, his eyes full of warmth. "Mira, I'm into you."

The next day, the campus forum exploded.

Everyone congratulated them, except Ella.

She ran to Vincent in tears, seeking confirmation, and collapsed when she saw his hand intertwined with Mira's.

Her crush on him was no secret.

Every day, she wrote him a love letter, only for him to reject and tear it up without mercy.

She skipped classes to work and buy him gifts, trailing him like an obsessive stalker.

Vincent loathed her, doing everything to avoid her.

Whenever she appeared, his gaze turned icy, and he spat the cruelest words, "Have you no shame or dignity? How can someone be so pathetic!"

Ella, eyes brimming with tears, always replied, "I love you."

But at some point, things changed.

Vincent began fiddling with his phone during meals with Mira, the profile picture a star.

Though his tone remained cold, he stopped blocking Ella's calls and no longer rejected her gifts.

Sometimes it was pastries she queued for in the south end of town, other times a bouquet from her part-time job.

When Vincent spoke of Ella, his once-cold disdain softened.

Now, a single call from her was enough for him to abandon Mira and rush off.

Lost in the darkness for who knows how long, Mira pulled out her phone and sent Vincent a message, "We're done."

Before dawn, Vincent returned home, weary and chilled.

The damp cold enveloped Mira, startling her with goosebumps.

She woke from a restless sleep, tear tracks still on her face.

Vincent, exhaustion etched on his face, showed a flicker of concern. "Mira, I messed up last night."

His voice turned sharp with irritation. "She's so clueless. I told her how to use the emergency app on her phone, but all she does is cry."

In the dim morning light, Mira took in his disheveled state.

His coat was missing, his usually pristine shirt wrinkled and stained with what looked like tear marks.

His sleeves were rolled up, revealing small scratches on his arms.

Her gaze paused at a faint red mark on his neck.

Mira's heart sank. She pulled her hand from his grasp, lowered her eyes, and said softly, "Vincent, do you remember our agreement?"

Vincent's face stiffened, a bitter smile forming. "Mira, this time was different. Ella was in real danger. I couldn't just let her die."

His eyes held deep fatigue, as if he were utterly drained. "We're getting engaged in a week. Don't say things you don't mean, okay? Trust me, I'll make it clear to her. She won't interfere with our lives anymore."

Mira lifted her gaze and asked abruptly, "Where's your coat?"

He blinked, shrugging. "Probably left it at the scene. I-"

His phone rang, cutting him off. "Hello, Mr. Fuller, this is the South Crestwood Police Department. Your friend, Miss Ella Clayton..."

Vincent shot to his feet, stepped onto the balcony, and slid the door shut.

His movements were quick, but Mira still caught Ella's name.

A mocking smile curved her lips.

Her phone pinged with an email notification.

As she moved to open it, Vincent rushed out, saying, "Mira, I'm heading to the police station. I'll be back soon."

She watched his retreating figure, her heart aching.

She opened the email from her supervisor.

It informed her that the university recommended her as the medical department's top candidate for advanced studies in Eldoria.

The departure date coincided with their engagement.

Mira clutched her phone until the sky brightened, then replied to her supervisor, "Professor, I've decided. I'll go."

...

Vincent returned with Ella.

Mira, eating breakfast, froze when they entered.

Ella, eyes red and swollen, hid behind him, wearing his coat, clutching his sleeve, and warily scanning the villa.

Vincent's expression was uneasy as he pulled free from her grip and approached Mira. "Mira, she was followed. Her place isn't safe, so I brought her here for a few days. She promised she'll find a new place before our engagement. She won't affect us!"

Mira looked away and said flatly, "We're done. You don't need my permission to bring anyone home."

Vincent's face darkened. He strode to the table, grabbed her hand, and dragged her to the kitchen despite her resistance. "Mira, stop this nonsense!"

He frowned, rubbing his temple.

Mira massaged her reddened wrist and said calmly, "I'm not making a scene. I'm keeping my promise."

He dropped his hand, sighing heavily. "Mira, we're about to get engaged. Invitations are out. How can you talk about breaking up now? This isn't just about us. The Fuller and Saunders families are prominent in Crestwood. Our marriage involves both families."

A sharp crash came from the living room.

Vincent's face changed, and he rushed out.

Mira followed.

Ella had shattered their framed photo on the wall.

The frame lay in pieces, the picture torn by a deep scratch, splitting their once-close figures like a dividing line.

Ella's hands bled, tears streaming down her face. "Vincent, Mira, I'm so sorry. It wasn't on purpose..."

Her voice broke. "I just wanted to look at your photo and accidentally broke the frame. I'm so sorry. I'll fix it, please don't kick me out!"

Her helpless, pitiful tone softened Vincent's heart.

He hurried to her, lifting her hand, where a shard of glass was embedded in her palm.

Mira stared at their ruined photo, her lips curling with sarcasm. "You're awfully careless, breaking the frame and even tearing the picture."

Ella's tears fell like beads. "I'm so sorry, Mira. I'll fix it. I'm sorry!"

"Enough." Vincent's gaze toward Mira held irritation. "She said it was an accident. Why are you being so snide? Can't you see how badly she's hurt?"

He carefully removed the glass with tweezers, disinfected the wound, and insisted on taking her to the hospital to check for infection.

As the door closed, Ella shot Mira a smug smile, as if taunting her.

Mira let out a laugh.

She grabbed a broom, swept the glass into the trash, and picked up the torn photo.

After staring at it for a long moment, she ripped it into pieces and threw it away.

After tidying the house, Mira visited the university.

Her supervisor beamed with delight upon learning she agreed to study abroad. "Mira, I'm thrilled you came around. This opportunity is rare. When you said you'd think about it, I got nervous."

Mira filled out forms, smiling. "Yes, I couldn't pass up this chance to grow."

Her supervisor grinned, then asked, "By the way, aren't you and Vincent getting engaged soon? You'll be gone at least three years. Have you discussed this with him?"

Mira's hand paused. She replied softly, "We broke up."

Her supervisor fell silent.

Leaving the university, Mira returned to her family's home.

Her parents were stunned to hear of the breakup.

After Mira explained everything, her mother sided with her immediately. "Mira, good riddance! I support you!"

Her mother's face clouded with worry. "But three years in Eldoria alone? I'm not comfortable with that."

Her father spoke up. "My buddy Gordon's son is in Eldoria. I'll give him a call."

...

Mira returned home to pack her belongings.

She froze at the entrance.

The sofa, walls, and furniture were splattered with colorful paint.

The culprit, Ella Clayton, stood holding a paint can.

"What are you doing?" Mira's heart raced as she shouted.

Ella's movements didn't stop, her face twisting into a strange smile. "Can't you tell? I'm painting!"

Mira strode forward, snatching the paint can and brush. "Ella, this is my home, not yours! Destroying someone's property without permission is illegal. You know that, right?"

Ella stared at her, then burst into laughter. "Your home? This is Vincent's house! You're just his ex. What right do you have to tell me what to do?"

She lunged to grab the paint can back.

During their struggle, Ella's eyes caught the sound of the front door. A glint of malice flashed in her gaze.

With a loud crash, she fell to the floor, paint spilling over her from head to toe.

Vincent returned and saw the scene, his face darkening.

He glanced at Ella, sobbing pitifully on the floor, then at Mira. "What happened?"

Ella's cries grew louder, as if she'd suffered a great injustice. "Vincent, I was just trying to help Mira paint the walls, but she pushed me and doused me with paint. I'm so scared..."

Vincent rubbed his forehead, saying nothing, his eyes fixed on Mira.

Mira spoke slowly. "First, when I got home, the sofa, walls, and furniture were already covered in paint. I doubt she was just painting the walls.

Second, I didn't push her. She fell on purpose, probably to gain your sympathy.

Lastly, I'm not a saint. She ruined my things, so I'm calling the police."

Vincent finally surveyed their shared villa.

Their couple's mugs were filled with paint. Their matching clothes lay scattered on the floor, stained with paint. Their photo was smeared beyond recognition.

Mira fiddled with her phone until a shadow loomed over her. "Mira, don't call the police."

His gaze fell on the emergency number on her screen.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Why not?"

"It's just cheap stuff. We can afford to replace it."

His words were so absurd Mira wanted to laugh.

She stressed, "Vincent, this is deliberate property damage!"

Vincent softened his tone. "Mira, Ella has bipolar disorder. She can't help acting out when triggered. If you call the police, she might end up in an asylum."

His expression turned pleading. "Besides, you pushed her. Can't you let it go?"

Mira laughed aloud. "Vincent, are you deaf? I said I didn't push her. If you don't believe me, call the police. Shouldn't someone with a mental illness be in an asylum?"

A sharp slap rang out.

Vincent struck her face hard. "Mira, where's your empathy? Mental illness isn't something Ella can control, and it's not a reason for you to judge her!"

He towered over her, arms crossed. "Everything in this house belongs to me. Even if you call the police, it won't matter if I don't press charges."

Mira held her stinging cheek, her vision swimming as she recalled college days when Vincent fought off thugs in an alley to protect her.

At the hospital, he comforted her like nothing happened. "Mira, I'll never let anyone hurt you."

She lowered her eyes and gave a faint smile.

He'd long forgotten that promise.