Before You Were Mine

01

The divorce didn’t come as a surprise to Claire Grant—just a pang of regret.

Adrian Shaw moved briskly between rooms, packing his books and clothes into suitcases. Claire leaned against the doorway, silently watching him. Finally, she spoke.
“I’m the one leaving. You don’t have to pack your things.”

Adrian paused, turned to her with a helpless expression.
“Didn’t we agree? This apartment’s yours. The money in the account too.”

He was right. They had agreed—Adrian would walk away with nothing. All their shared assets would go to Claire, and on top of that, he’d wired her a substantial amount. Compensation, maybe. Or closure.

“So, what’s next for you?” Claire asked, steering the conversation elsewhere.

“Once the visa’s through, I’ll leave for France. Grad school.”
He zipped up his last suitcase.

Of course. Claire offered a faint smile.
“Sophie Moreau’s been waiting a long time, hasn’t she? Looks like you two finally get your happy ending.”

Adrian smiled—a rare sight. Since their wedding, she could count on one hand how many times she’d seen that smile. When he did smile, she noticed again the small dimple in his left cheek.

“Claire… thank you,” Adrian said, hesitating before adding,
“And I’m sorry.”

There was so much packed into that thank-you—maybe for letting him go, maybe for the years she’d supported his career. But the sorry—that had only one meaning.

Everything he owned fit into two thirty-two-inch suitcases. That was all he had left after two years of marriage. Pitiful, really.

“I’ll go now,” Adrian said, gripping the handles of his luggage.

“Adrian,” Claire stopped him, voice trembling, “Can you hold me… just once more?”

They had barely held hands in their marriage, let alone hugged. In the past, he would’ve ignored the request with silence. But now that they were no longer husband and wife—maybe out of guilt, or pity—he nodded.

She caught the scent of his cologne on his shirt—faint, clean, the same she wore. Bittersweet hit her like a wave. She’d never really had him—not his body, not his soul. Not even when they were married.

“I’m sorry,” Adrian murmured, patting her back.

Claire didn’t mean to cry, but her tears still landed on the chest of his shirt. She stepped back, smiled through it.
“Don’t be sorry. You just didn’t love me. That’s not something you need to apologize for.”

Adrian saw her holding back tears and sighed softly.
“You deserve better.”

She hadn’t cried the day they signed the papers. But now, as he stood there, really leaving, she couldn’t stop herself.
“Go, Adrian. Please.”

This time, he actually left.
His presence still lingered in the room, but soon even that would fade. And then—nothing between them.

Claire stood in the now-empty room, quiet. She watched him leave with all that belonged to him—except for one thing.

Herself.
She had once belonged to him too.
She was his wife.

---

02

Claire Grant had known Adrian Shaw longer than Sophie Moreau had.

At first, his name was just that—a name. Then she learned he was her father’s prized new student. A medical prodigy, apparently.

She imagined him to be uptight and serious—until her father’s birthday dinner, the first time she actually met him.

That evening, Claire was delayed at work by a last-minute report. The dinner was set for 7:30 at a decent restaurant. She rushed out, picked up the pre-ordered cake, and sped to the venue.

Everything went smoothly—until she bumped someone’s car outside the restaurant.
A soft thud—“Thump.”

Through the rearview mirror, she saw a sleek black Jaguar. Her heart skipped. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out.

The driver emerged as well—young, sharply dressed, effortlessly elegant. The kind of man who made time stop just by standing under the twilight sky.

It was summer, the dusk sky painted in purples and golds. Lights from the surrounding buildings cascaded down like waterfalls behind him, draping the red-leaved trees in golden shadows.

For a moment, everything froze. Claire’s mind went blank. She just stood there, staring—until he broke the silence.
“Miss?”

She blinked, coming to her senses.
“I’m so sorry, I hit your car. It’s my dad’s birthday and I’m running late. Could we maybe talk about the insurance tomorrow?”
She handed him her business card.

He took it—and suddenly smiled. A soft smile, dimpling his left cheek.

“So you're Professor Grant’s daughter. He talks about you all the time.”

Claire raised a brow, surprised.
“You’re...?”

“Adrian Shaw,” he said simply.

That was him? Claire let out a laugh.
“Well, I’ve definitely heard your name too.”

They walked into the private room together. Professor Grant looked at them, slightly confused.
“You two came in together? Oh—Adrian, let me introduce you. This is my daughter, Claire.”

Claire and Adrian exchanged a glance—and shared a small, knowing smile.

03

The whole compensation thing was quietly dropped, but Claire Grant couldn’t shake the guilt. She insisted on taking Adrian Shaw out for dinner.

They met at a small restaurant near Adrian’s university. Claire, who usually wore formal suits to work, had—almost involuntarily—chosen a simple white dress for the evening.

After dinner, they wandered through the campus. The streetlights filtered gently through thick camphor trees lining the walkways, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow.

Claire had grown up around this school. But that night, it all felt unfamiliar—like something had shifted.
“You could’ve gone to a better university,” she said. “Why here?”

Adrian answered honestly.
“Because of Professor Grant. The surgeries he’s performed—they’re legendary. Among med students, there’s a saying: Getting into university is hard. Becoming one of Professor Grant’s students is harder.”

Claire already knew that. Years ago, some of the top universities in the country had tried to lure her father away with generous offers. But he was loyal to his roots and turned them down. Even so, his current university was still among the best.

Truth be told, Claire knew more about the school than Adrian did.

The campus had been built in the early 20th century, with classic red-brick buildings and green shutters. It was pomegranate blossom season—bright crimson flowers lined the branches. Claire shared a bit of the campus history as they walked. Adrian tilted his head and listened quietly.

“Watch out!” Adrian suddenly reached out and pulled her aside as a bicycle zipped past, narrowly missing Claire and kicking up a breeze that lifted the hem of her dress.

His palm was dry and warm. Claire’s heart thudded in her chest. She sneaked a glance at him, only to find he was already looking at her, concern etched on his face.
“Are you okay?”

She nodded, about to respond—when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her father stepping out of a nearby building.

Panic surged. She quickly grabbed Adrian’s hand and pulled him into a deeper shadow.

“What—” he began, only for Claire to cover his mouth.

A pomegranate blossom dropped from above, landing softly on their shoulders. In the misty shade, she couldn’t see his face clearly, but she could feel the softness of his lips beneath her palm and the warm breath he exhaled.

Once Professor Grant walked past, Claire let go and whispered,
“Sorry. That was my dad. If he saw us, he’d probably get the wrong idea.”

Adrian chuckled quietly. “Ah. That explains it.”

Claire heard the amusement in his voice, and though she was slightly annoyed, she couldn’t help but smile.

Their friendship deepened naturally. On holidays, Professor Grant would often invite Adrian home.

During these visits, Claire learned they were the same age. Adrian was still a student, but far more mature than his peers. Unlike her shrewd male colleagues, he was steady, sincere—and that made him deeply appealing.

---

04

For years, Claire wasn’t sure how to define their relationship.

They were close. They played tennis, traveled together. But Adrian never crossed any lines.
They weren’t just friends, but not quite lovers either.

Professor Grant, always sharp, noticed their bond. In private, he’d sometimes joke with Claire,
“Adrian is an outstanding young man. If only he could be my son-in-law. Claire, you’d better make a move.”

Those words made her uneasy. If Adrian had feelings for her, her father wouldn’t have said that. It was obvious—even to him—that she was the one with feelings.

Claire wasn’t great at hiding things. She planned to tell Adrian how she felt. But he’d been busy, rotating through departments at the hospital.

So, one weekend, she decided to surprise him at work.

That month, Adrian was in cardiac surgery. Claire went straight to his office during his break.

He was hunched over his desk in a white coat, scribbling notes. The spring wind fluttered the curtains, and the golden dusk outside cast a warm light on his features.

She knocked gently. He looked up and smiled.
“What are you doing here?”

She lifted a thermos. “Brought you some food. Dad asked me to drop it off.”

“It’s been so long since I had your mom’s cooking. I’m in for a treat,” Adrian said, washing his hands at the sink.

While he washed up, Claire unpacked the food. He leaned over the table to peek.
“All my favorites. Your parents spoil me.”

They were alone. Adrian didn’t like eating in the cafeteria, so he usually stayed behind. Claire knew his habits and had come right on time.

She pulled up a chair beside him and studied him closely. He looked thinner than before, his jaw more defined, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Not sleeping well?” she asked, gesturing to the shadows beneath his eyes.

Adrian nodded.
“Lots of emergencies in cardiac surgery. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. But I’m fine now,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Is your neck sore?” she asked. He nodded again.

“Let me help,” Claire offered, rising to her feet.

But just then, the office door flew open. A girl in a hospital gown burst in.
“Dr. Shaw!”

Adrian frowned, clearly exasperated.
“How many times have I told you not to startle people like that?”

The girl ignored him, playfully sticking out her tongue. Her features were delicate and pretty. She ran straight to Adrian and leaned on his shoulder.
“What are you eating? Smells so good! I want some too!”

She reached for a dish, but Adrian quickly blocked her hand.
“Sophie Moreau, you know you’re on a restricted diet.”

“Ow! That hurt!” Sophie whined theatrically. “Come on, just one bite?” she tugged at his sleeve.

Adrian sighed and turned to Claire.
“She’s my patient.”

Sophie looked at Claire and smiled sweetly.
“So you’re Dr. Shaw’s friend? I’m his difficult patient. He’s going to fix my heart someday.”

Her words were a double entendre. Claire understood perfectly. The girl wasn’t openly hostile—but she wasn’t subtle either.

Adrian eventually gave in. He used his chopsticks to give Sophie a bite of food. She leaned in and ate directly from them.

He stared at the chopsticks for a beat—then used them again as if nothing had happened.

At that moment, Claire understood everything. Sophie had probably been watching from the hallway, waiting for just the right moment to barge in.

She liked Adrian.
The real question was—
Did Adrian like her back?

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