The night before the wedding, I found out that Cason Marshall and his ex-girlfriend Audrey Castro had been in touch sporadically. Regardless of the distance, they always made time for each other when it was necessary.

His friend Arlo asked him, "What's on your mind, man? You're about to marry Liliana, yet you're still involved with Audrey. If you weren't over her, why did you even break up?"

Cason lit a cigarette, his voice rough, "With Audrey, it's purely physical. We don't connect on any other level. But with Liliana, it's the exact opposite."

"Don't worry," he added with a sigh, "I've got it under control. It's just physical, no cuddling, no spending the night. It won't interfere with my marriage to Liliana."

---

With just two days until the wedding, I was rushing around picking up packages. Today alone, I'd made five trips.

I couldn't help but sigh with my hands on my hips, "I'm exhausted."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Cason smiled as he walked over, kindly giving my shoulders a comforting squeeze. "Did you grab my package?"

"Of course I did." I sifted through the pile of parcels and handed him a large box. "Here you go."

He didn't take it, just smiled at me. My curiosity got the better of me. "What did you get?"

He's not usually one to shop online, so this intrigued me. But his smile had a mischievous edge to it.

"Open it and see."

I hesitated but eventually gave in. Inside was a set of cat costumes, complete with realistic ears and a tail, along with a remote control. Embarrassed, I dropped it immediately.

"Why did you buy this?"

He wrapped his arms around me, whispering with a teasing tone, "Just for our wedding night, one time."

My whole body stiffened, my mind went blank. He started to kiss me again, "Please, my love."

It took me a moment to find my voice again. "No, I don't want to."

His displeasure was obvious as he let me go, and I mirrored his expression. We were at a stalemate for a moment.

Eventually, he conceded, "Let's not talk about it. Time to eat."

At dinner, he made a new dish: sweet and savory spiced honey meatballs. He loved experimenting in the kitchen, often delighting in having me taste his creations and eagerly awaiting my praise.

I thought about it and said, "It's delicious, sweet and flavorful."

He merely responded with a casual "Oh."

Neither of us spoke after that. When we first met, our connection grew over countless meals. This was the first time a meal felt so tense.

Throughout our seven-year relationship, we were the couple everyone admired. We always got along well, never had a serious argument, except for the one time, which was similar to today's disagreement.

It was our first time together, and he suddenly called me a horrible name. I couldn't accept it and got upset. He couldn't understand why I was so bothered.

He said guys were like that, picking it up from watching things online. To him, it was normal, and he thought I was making a big deal out of nothing.

I was so mad I cried and broke up with him. A few days later, he came to campus to apologize, admitting he was wrong and promising it wouldn't happen again.

We were in a passionate phase of our relationship then, and aside from that incident, there were no other conflicts. So we quickly made up.

Over the following years, he kept his word. But now, as we were about to get married, I didn't expect this issue to crop up again and put us at odds.

"Enjoy your meal. I'm heading out for a bit."

Cason's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up, asking, "Where are you going?"

"Arlo wants to go grab a few drinks."

He explained as he quickly grabbed his jacket from the couch.

I stared at him, puzzled.

For some reason, I blurted out, "Are you coming back?"

He turned back, amused, "What do you think? Have I ever not come home?"

Before leaving, he came over and kissed my forehead, a smile in his eyes. "You're adorable."

"I'm heading out. I'll be back soon."

Cason's demeanor was so natural just now, as if nothing unusual had happened earlier. He must not be upset anymore, right? I let out a sigh of relief and got up to wash the dishes. While cooking isn't my favorite thing, I have a knack for collecting beautiful dishware and actually enjoy washing them.

This is where Cason and I fit together perfectly. Our interests align, and our habits complement each other, making us the ideal partners. So how could we let a minor issue create a rift between us? Once I realized that, the cloud that had overshadowed my mood lifted completely.

Feeling quite pleased with myself, I tidied everything up and started unboxing deliveries to decorate our soon-to-be marital home. The cool-toned space came alive with the addition of vibrant, gold decorations. I was over the moon and couldn't resist taking numerous photos to post on Facebook.

No sooner had I posted them than someone liked the photos. The profile picture was familiar—it belonged to someone from my Facebook circle, although I didn’t know her personally. Two years ago, Cason had taken me to his old university for a reunion, and I ended up adding a bunch of people on Facebook. She must have been one of those connections.

What made her stand out was her immediate response to every post I made, as if she lived on Facebook. Plus, her posts were quite distinctive. She once mentioned that she and her ex-boyfriend were so compatible that, even after breaking up, they stayed friends with benefits. Whenever one of them wanted, they’d reach out regardless of the distance, and the other would come over. She even shared a story about a time she was on a business trip and casually posted the name of her hotel; her ex drove all night to be with her. I found it intriguing and discreetly followed their saga, hoping they’d rekindle their romance. But eventually, her posts became too much for me, so I decided to hide her updates.

Just then, I remembered the package Cason received today. On a whim, I unblocked her and navigated to her profile. Three hours ago, she had posted: "Tonight, I'm playing nurse," followed by, "Feeling under the weather, need a shot," with a photo.

A chill ran through me, and I instinctively backed out of the post, only to hesitate, frozen. I went back to the picture, zooming in as much as possible. In the lower left corner, a blurry reflection was visible in the floor-to-ceiling window. The silhouette looked like… Cason.

Even though the enlarged photo had turned grainy and the silhouette revealed nothing of interest, the moment Cason Marshall's name crossed my mind, I felt enchanted. I couldn't stop myself; my trembling hand kept scrolling further down the feed.

Besides the post from three hours ago, the most recent activity was from an afternoon ten days ago. I remembered that day vividly—Cason had taken the day off to go with me to a wedding dress fitting. The store clerk had quipped that Cason was grinning like a kid in a candy store, completely captivated by me.

Thinking about this, I went through my photo album. I had taken many selfies that day, and one of them clearly captured both of us. While I was wrapped up in the excitement of soon wearing a beautiful wedding gown and marrying the man I loved, Cason had been behind me, smiling at his phone with that same grin.

My heart sank.

Not long after, he got a phone call. He said there was a problem with a project at work, something about an intern's mistake, and he had to rush back to handle it. He hugged me tightly, apologizing. I never doubted him; I comforted him instead, saying work was important.

Once I finished trying on the other dresses, he wrapped up his work and came back to pick me up. We had dinner together and even watched a movie afterward. Everything seemed as normal as any other day. I was completely in the dark.

Breathing heavily, I continued scrolling stubbornly. There were so many posts. So many. The least frequent was once a fortnight, and at their peak, they came five times a week. But those posts were too far back. I have a terrible memory; sometimes it takes me ages just to recall what I did or ate yesterday. My mind was a complete mess.

I couldn't remember what Cason was doing at those specific times. Was he really not with me every single time?

Suddenly, a clap of thunder jolted me back to the present. Trembling, I dialed Cason's number.

“Where are you?”

“At the door, babe.”

The next second, the door swung open, and an icy gust of wind smacked me in the face.

“I saw it was going to rain heavily and might thunder, so I rushed back.”

He strode over and knelt in front of me, reaching out to gently stroke my hair. “Don’t worry, I’m here now.”

I was terrified of thunderstorms. Once, while he was on a business trip, he saw a weather forecast predicting a storm for my area and hurried back early to stay with me through the night, only to head out again early the next morning. I used to be deeply touched every time I thought about this.

But this time, I couldn’t help but link it to those social media posts. The same business trip, the same long journey back.

“Wow, honey, you’ve finished all the decorations? It looks amazing; it really sets the mood.”

He admired the surroundings, his eyes suddenly red-rimmed.

“Finally, I’m going to marry you.”

I coldly interrupted him, “It’s late. Go take a shower.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

As he headed into the bathroom, I picked up his phone.