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."