Chapter 5: Too Good to Love Me?

I started dating Julian.

After we got together, I realized Julian was basically a responsible dad in boyfriend form. At first, I was supposed to be teaching him game design, but somehow he ended up teaching me professional skills instead.

Julian loved to praise me. Every time I made the slightest progress, he’d compliment me like I was a little kid, then clear out my Amazon cart and tell me it was my reward. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it, even if I rolled my eyes sometimes.

When I first started dating him, I’d get so nervous answering his calls that I never knew what to say. I’d spend ages thinking up topics. Julian never rushed me—he’d just patiently wait on the other end, listening to me talk about everything that happened that day. Only after I finished would he gently say, “You did great, Autumn. Next time you won’t be nervous.”

And I’d blush for ages after hanging up. Julian was the kind of guy every girl would like—he didn’t smoke or drink, had strong values, and was genuine. He’d always check in, cheer me up, and stick close. At school events, he’d sign up for every activity just to keep me entertained. He’d ignore his cold image and the stares of the whole school to fan me and bug me until I drank water. If I insisted on watching, he’d block the sun for me and put cold water on my face to cool me down.

He treated me so well that I almost forgot my reputation as a party girl—I never thought I’d land someone like Julian.

Three months. We’d been dating for almost three months. It didn’t sound long, but it was longer than any of my previous relationships. Gradually, anxiety crept in.

I kept thinking, how could someone like me deserve Julian’s love? I couldn’t even handle kissing.

Whenever Julian kissed me, I could feel how careful he was. He’d gently kiss my ear, his voice rough as he called my name—not Autumn, but “Annie.” The first time he whispered it, I froze. His hot breath made goosebumps rise on my back, and tears fell before I even knew it.

Julian panicked and stopped, not knowing how to comfort me, just carefully wiping away my tears. He blamed himself: “I’m sorry, Autumn. I got carried away. Next time, I’ll ask before I kiss you. Don’t cry, please, Annie. Don’t cry.”

I kept crying—this was the first time Julian had seen me like this, and he was totally flustered. I looked into his eyes and said, “Julian, let’s break up, okay?”

His hand froze, then kept wiping my tears, ever so gently. “No, I don’t want to break up. Don’t be mad.”

I went on, “You can see it—I have issues. I can’t handle intimacy. What kind of relationship is this?”

Julian’s hand trembled uncontrollably, his eyes red, his voice muffled. My chest tightened just watching him. “Then we just won’t kiss anymore. I’m happy just to walk with you, Annie. Let’s not say those words.”

He wanted to hug me but didn’t dare. His hand reached out, then quickly pulled back, clenching and unclenching. He silently walked me back to my apartment. Before I closed the door, he looked at me carefully: “Autumn, we have a long future ahead. We can take it slow, solve things together. Let’s both calm down, okay? Don’t worry—I won’t come see you unless you agree. But please don’t break up with me. I didn’t handle this well today. Give me some time, I’ll find a solution. I’ve been working up the courage to get close to you for much longer than you think, so please, don’t give up on me so soon.”

I didn’t say anything. Julian hung his head, the light in his eyes dimming. This tall guy suddenly looked so defeated. He brushed my hair back, whispering, “Annie, get some rest. Don’t overthink it.”

After I closed the door, I sat against the wall for a long, long time.

In every past relationship, the guy either cheated or dumped me first. I’d never been the one to end things. But Julian was different. Someone as good as him deserved someone better. His love was so sincere—I was afraid that if I waited any longer, I wouldn’t be able to let go. I mean, how do you break up with the best thing that’s ever happened to you?

Just like every ex had said, someone like me was just too much work to love. Why would anyone stick around?

Aside from Julian, I’d never started a relationship because I liked someone. It was always because their confession—"I really like you"—was too appealing. But in the end, every breakup was harsh, their angry words burned into my memory. I never really liked them—it was always just a game.

They’d say, “Who the hell dates you and does nothing? Being pretty is useless.”

Yeah, I longed for love, but I had a strong aversion to intimacy. When did it start? I couldn’t remember, but I guessed it had something to do with my childhood.

My mom and Dad divorced when I was little. Their marriage wasn’t for love—it was a business deal. Dad didn’t love her, she didn’t love Dad. It seemed like they only stayed together because of me.

She said she loved me, but in the end, she chose her childhood sweetheart. She cried, telling me, “I’m sorry, Annie. I’ve never lived for myself, not once. But now, I really want to try. Forgive me for being selfish. You’re still young—you don’t understand love. If he was happy, maybe I wouldn’t leave. But now I know, the man I love never married. He’s overseas and seriously ill, about to have his final surgery. I have to go.”

I cried hard and asked, “Will you come back, Mom?”

She stroked my head. “No matter what happens, I could never show my face back home. Be good, listen to your dad.”

I pushed her hand away, saying angrily, “Then you’re not my mom anymore. I won’t miss you.”

She left in tears. If I’d known it was the last time I’d see her, I never would’ve said those words. I thought I could visit her when I grew up, but I never got the chance. Her plane crashed, and her life ended with it. The man overseas committed suicide after hearing the news—right after his successful surgery, holding a photo of him and my mom from high school. They were 18, laughing in the sunshine.

I’ve lived with regret ever since.

Dad was good to me, though he was always a bit clumsy. He tried to give me the best of everything, even if it came out a little awkward. But memories of Mom leaving haunted me. I didn’t understand their love. All I knew was that I’d said something I never should have, and she must’ve been heartbroken.

When I was 15, Dad remarried. He married my stepmom, and her daughter, a few years younger than me, moved in. I heard she’d had a rough life, often beaten by her real dad, so she was especially well-behaved. Dad adored her. The first time she called him “Dad,” I felt like an outsider. They were the real family—happy, loving. My stepmom took great care of Dad. You could tell they really loved each other. I remember watching them once, laughing together in the kitchen, and feeling like I’d wandered into someone else’s home.

So I stubbornly moved out and lived in an apartment. At fifteen or sixteen, I used rebellion as a shield. Dad couldn’t handle me, and every meeting ended in a fight. Our relationship hit rock bottom—I was no longer the little girl who clung to his arm.

But as I grew up, I was often alone. The loneliness made me crave love, like an itch I couldn’t scratch. So I kept trying, and kept failing. Julian was the first person I truly liked. He was too good. If I didn’t let go now, I’d never be able to.

Turns out, liking someone could make you so insecure. Who knew? If I’d known, I might’ve just stuck with cats and Netflix.

Julian deserved someone better—at least someone mentally healthy.