I sat up and raised my voice. "Hugh, you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

I continued, "Five years have passed, and you're still so eager to put a wedge between me and him. But let me tell you—no matter what happens, this was my choice. I made my decision, and I'll take my loss. I won't look back."

Hugh went quiet for a moment before saying something completely unrelated, "I sent you something. You'll want to see it."

After he hung up, a video popped up on my phone.

Under the dim lighting, a girl stood face-to-face with Christopher.

He exhaled a cloud of smoke, his expression as indifferent as ever.

Amidst the teasing and laughter in the background, the girl stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

More importantly, he didn't move away.

The video ended there.

I opened the girl's social media account.

Lo and behold, she had just updated her status. "How is this not a success?"

The attached photo was of them kissing.

Nausea churned in my stomach. I ran to the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet for a long time, only to realize I hadn't eaten all day. There was nothing to throw up.

Pain gripped my stomach, cramping so badly I could barely breathe.

I forced myself back to bed, curling into a ball.

Suddenly, a memory resurfaced.

…

When Christopher and I had just started dating, I had once wanted to see the stars from the mountaintop in the middle of the night.

He didn't ask a single question. He indulged my whim and drove me there overnight.

The air was cool, and he wrapped me in his arms, his warmth seeping into me.

With the moonlight casting a soft glow, he leaned in and asked cautiously, "The night is beautiful. Jessica, can I… kiss you?"

…

Unfortunately, there was no going back now.

Half-asleep, I was suddenly jolted awake by noises from the living room.

Cold sweat broke out on my back, but I had no strength to get up.

The next second, the bedroom light flicked on.

The harsh brightness made it impossible to open my eyes.

Then I heard his panicked voice.

"Jess! What's wrong?"

…

At 7:00 am, I woke up in the hospital.

Christopher was by my side, holding my hand, looking exhausted—like he had stayed up all night.

He stood up to pour me some water. "I wasn't around for a few days, and you just stopped taking care of yourself? You've always had a weak stomach—are you trying to kill yourself?"

He was reprimanding me.

Just how ridiculous could he be?

For the past week, I had barely eaten or slept, losing five pounds.

I had thought maybe he had gotten into trouble in the business world—that someone had kidnapped him.

I had been terrified and sleepless, crying into my pillow every night.

Meanwhile, he had been living it up somewhere else, kissing another girl without a care in the world.

"Are you giving me the silent treatment?" Christopher smirked, pinching my cheek. "You know I'll punish you for this, right?"

"Alright, get up and eat something. I made some oatmeal for you. I hadn't slept all night," he added.

He acted as if nothing had happened.

Helping me sit up, he scooped a spoonful of oatmeal and fed me patiently.

More than once, I wanted to confront him and ask, "Christopher, aren't you tired of acting?"

Or perhaps I should just tell him that I overheard their conversation, and if he didn't want to marry me, we could just cancel the wedding. It was not like we had registered yet anyway.

However, I swallowed the words.

I wanted to understand why he was doing this to me after all these years of loving me.

Was it just because I once loved someone else? Did that mean that I didn't deserve love now?

"Jess, why are you crying?"

He put the bowl down and quickly wiped my tears. "There, there. I'm sorry, I was wrong."

I lowered my gaze and closed my eyes, but I still ended up in Christopher's embrace.

He gently stroked my back and said softly, "Darling, I'm sorry for making you worry."

He then continued explaining, "I just got overwhelmed. Knowing I'm about to marry you—it felt too good to be true. I was scared it was all a dream. I just needed some time to clear my head. I should have told you sooner. Will you forgive me?"

Lies. It was all lies.

"There are only 20 days left until our wedding. I'll stay home with you during this time and make sure you become the most beautiful bride, okay?"

"Unfortunately, there's no future for us," I thought to myself.

He wiped away my tears with his fingertips.

When those alluring eyes locked onto you, they made you believe he was deeply in love.

"I'm going out for a smoke. You'll be discharged soon."

Maybe Christopher trusted me too much, or perhaps he didn't care whether I overthought things. After all, he was just following his friend's advice, putting on an act of devotion.

So, I picked up his phone, which kept buzzing with notifications.

The password was my birthday.

I had always known it, but I had never checked before.

I unlocked the phone smoothly and noticed a young woman saved as "Peach Blossom" had sent him a flood of messages.

They had only added each other yesterday.

"Chris, you went back so late. Remember to get some rest, okay?"

"I heard you're getting married. Can you send me an invitation? I want to share in your happiness too!"

"I saw you holding your stomach when you got off the plane. Are you feeling unwell?"

"I made you some oatmeal. It's good for your stomach. Don't you think I deserve some praise?"

He hadn't replied to all her messages, except for the last one.

"Send it to this address."

I turned my head and looked at the pink thermos on the table.

Nausea washed over me once more.

The girl continued messaging him.

"Are you sick? Are you okay? I can stay at the hospital with you."

"If you finish the oatmeal, I can make more."

"Take care of yourself, Chris."

"I sat in the lobby all night. My legs are numb. My stomach hurts from my period."

…

I closed the messages, marked them as unread, and got out of bed.

In the lobby, I saw them—Christopher and that same girl from yesterday.

I stood still, watching them laugh and chat through the crowd.

She gestured animatedly, her ponytail bouncing.

At one point, she pouted and touched her stomach, and Christopher reached out and ruffled her hair.

For a split second, I felt like an outsider, sneaking a peek at something I had no right to see.

From last night's kiss to today's affectionate gestures… It was clear that Christopher liked her.

And why wouldn't he?

Who wouldn't like someone who quietly cared for them, never asked for anything in return, and had eyes only for them?

I let out a self-deprecating laugh.

Turning away, I headed toward the corner—only to run into Hugh.

He stepped out of the shadows, his gaze dark as he stared toward Christopher. "Is this the opponent you chose for me?"

I met his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Jessica, why did you stop pursuing me?"

I found his question absurd.

I had pursued him for a decade. Was that not enough?

Ever since I stopped, he had gone out of his way to remind me of his presence.

Maybe he never liked me, and just like Christopher, he just didn't like losing.

"And you're still going through with the wedding?" Hugh asked.

My lips twitched. "Mind your own business. I gave up on you a long time ago. I really, truly, don't want to see you anymore."

I brushed past him.

"Does it not bother you even if he had someone else?" he called after me.

Of course, it bothered me.

I placed a hand on my chest, trying to soothe the pain.

However, I knew that one day, it would stop hurting.

Just 20 more days. I had to endure it.

On the way home with Christopher, I casually mentioned, "I accidentally ruined the wedding gown. Do you think that's a bad omen?"

I watched his reaction closely.

He only frowned slightly before turning to hold my hand, smiling at me with the same tender look as always.

"Then we'll go pick out a new one tomorrow, okay?"

That wedding gown took six months to make.

It was one of a kind, designed by my favorite designer, and it arrived just a week ago.

I looked stunning in it, but Christopher had disappeared before he ever got the chance to see me wear it.

I didn't want it anymore.

Did I regret it? No.

Christopher wanted to play a game, didn't he? This was just the beginning.

…

The next day, we went to pick out a new wedding gown.

Off-the-rack gowns never fit quite right.

I deliberately made Christopher stay with me the entire day, trying on one after another, never finding the perfect gown.

On the way home, I sighed. "It's such a shame. It was my fault for being careless."

Christopher smiled. "It's fine. Take your time."

I looked straight into his eyes. "Christopher, since the gown is ruined… Why don't we call off the wedding?"

The car came to an abrupt halt.

Momentum pushed me forward, but his arm shot out to shield me, keeping me from hitting the dashboard.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

I shook my head.

Then, feigning innocence, I asked, "What's wrong? I was just joking."

His grip on my hand tightened, and the next second, he pulled me into his arms. "Darling, I can't handle those kinds of jokes. Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this day?"

Oh really? Wasn't that your plan, Christopher?

To stay by my side, pick out a wedding gown, send out invitations, create beautiful memories… and then when I was at my happiest, drive the knife deep into my heart.

I was just helping him set up the perfect stage. So, what was he afraid of?

…

That night, as soon as we walked through the door, Christopher pressed me against the entryway cabinet before I could even take my shoes off.

His warm body pressed tightly against mine, and his kisses fell in waves, overwhelming, desperate to drown something out.

I turned away, gently pushing him back.

"Christopher, I don't feel well. I don't want to do this right now."

His body stiffened after hearing my refusal.

He seemed to be looking for something on my face.

After a long pause, he sighed and pulled me into an embrace, his palm resting lightly on my stomach, rubbing soothing circles.

"Is your stomach still hurting?"

I had no reaction.

He pressed his lips against my hair and said, "Sit tight. I'll take a shower and then cook up something for you."

His phone sat beside me, its screen lighting up repeatedly.

I unlocked it and saw messages from that young woman again.

"Chris, I still haven't received my wedding invitation."

"By the way, Madam Sanders told me to drop by your office tomorrow! My resume got approved! Yay me!"

"I hope everything goes well! That way, I can see you every day and bring you homemade lunches too!"

I put the phone back where I found it.

Then, I opened my wedding diary and wrote in it.

"Wedding countdown: 19 days. Today, Chris and I went shopping for a wedding gown. It's a pity nothing fits. Maybe it's because I've lost too much weight lately. But it's okay! Just thinking about becoming his bride makes me so happy. He feels the same, right?"

I scrolled up and added entries for the past few days.

"Wedding countdown: 30 days. Chris disappeared. I couldn't find him. I spent the whole night crying while staring at our wedding planner's notes on my tablet. My eyes were swollen in the morning."

…

"Wedding countdown: 20 days. Chris came back. I'm so useless. Did I push him too hard? Did I give him pre-wedding anxiety? This is my fault. I shouldn't be like this. I just… love him too much."