Three years into our relationship, I noticed something new on my boyfriend’s chest—a rose tattoo.

Curiosity got the better of me. “Does it mean something?”

The light in Jude’s eyes dimmed. His voice came out rough. “I was young and stupid when I got it.”

But Jude Woods—heir to a prestigious family—wasn’t the type people called impulsive. He had always been exceptional, a model of integrity. I’d never heard a single story about him having some rebellious phase.

Not until later.

Jude postponed our wedding to fly overseas for an art exhibition at the Louvre. The way he looked at that brilliant female artist made everything click in an instant. Her name was Viviana Perry.

So that was it. The rose inked over his heart was never about youthful impulse. It was a quiet tribute to someone else.

The first time I noticed that rose, right over his heart, I reached out and traced it. “When did you get this? I’ve never seen it before.”

Jude paused, his expression cooling. “High school,” he said, his tone distant. “Just a dumb act of rebellion.”

Jude? Rebellious? Everything I’d ever heard said he’d been disciplined his entire life. Top grades, a spotless résumé, early admission to Harvard. A prodigy—detached, brilliant.

I pushed a little. “Why a rose? Are you into them or something?”

Jude hesitated before answering. “Not really. It was just a random choice.”

The exchange clearly put a damper on his mood. He got up not long after and took a cold shower.

I sighed, rubbing my sore back. Jude was never really enthusiastic about intimacy. In the three years we’d been together, we’d mostly just kissed and held each other.

There had only been two exceptions. Once on our first anniversary. And then tonight, after our engagement party.

I knew Jude wasn’t naturally passionate—and I wasn’t dying for constant sex either. But for someone so reserved, he had surprising stamina. That first time, he kept me up all night, until I could barely walk the next morning. After that, I never initiated again.

But tonight was different. It was our engagement night, and Jude had been drinking. So when he started unbuttoning his shirt, I wasn’t shocked. Still, I didn’t expect it to be over so quickly.

That rose tattoo kept nagging at the back of my mind, leaving a slow, creeping unease.

After getting ready for bed, Jude climbed in and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, pressing a soft kiss to my neck. “Goodnight, darling.”

I closed my eyes slowly, praying it was just my imagination running wild.

The first light of dawn crept into the room. I turned my head slightly and gazed at the man sleeping beside me. Morning light traced the contours of his face, every feature absolutely perfect. It was the kind of face that had captivated me from the very first glance.

The way Jude and I met was something straight out of a storybook. I was at a bar, cornered by a group of pushy guys who wouldn't take a hint. I was seconds away from shoving them off with a cocktail glass when Jude appeared. On instinct, I slipped into the damsel-in-distress act, tears at the ready.

We got to know each other and slowly fell in love. It wasn't until later that I found out he wasn't just charming—he was also the sole heir to one of the wealthiest families in the city. But our different backgrounds never got in the way. I never felt the need to suck up to him, and Jude never threw his status in my face.

After three years together, we got engaged with everyone's blessing—family and friends alike. Our wedding was set for early the following month. Every day that passed brought me closer to what felt like forever.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn't noticed Jude was already awake. His long lashes fluttered, and then he slowly opened his eyes.

“Why didn't you wake me?” he murmured, his voice soft.

“You're probably hungry,” he added before I could answer, already tossing off the covers and climbing out of bed.

Jude had been raised in luxury, a gentleman through and through. He was born into privilege, and it showed. He wasn't the type to bother with everyday chores. But for me, he made exceptions—day after day, year after year. He insisted on making breakfast himself.

He wasn't much of a cook, but the man could make oatmeal. It was always perfect—soft, warm, and comforting. Every time he made it, I couldn't help but finish every last bite.

In the days that followed, Jude set aside all his work and threw himself entirely into planning our wedding. The flowers, the desserts, the invitations, the venue—he handled it all. He took care of every little detail without putting any of it on me.

Even when I was choosing my wedding dress, the store attendants couldn't help but whisper, “In all my years, I've never seen a groom more invested than the bride. He notices every detail—the hem, the neckline, the lace.”

Jude heard them and leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “My Elia deserves the most beautiful wedding dress,” he whispered. “And she's going to be the most radiant bride.”

I smiled back at him, feeling light and happy. Everything was falling into place perfectly.

Then, out of nowhere, just three days before the wedding, Jude suggested we postpone it.

“Postpone the wedding? Just like that?”

“Did something happen?”

Jude lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around his pensive face. “There was an unexpected situation. I need to head to Paris for an art exhibition, and I won't be back for a while.”

I didn't press. I'd never meddled in Jude's business. Besides, a slight delay to the wedding wouldn't hurt. But Paris... What a fascinating city it must be.

The day after Jude left for Paris, I did the same, booking a ticket to follow him. People often thought I had it easy—that tying myself to Jude, a prominent figure in high society, guaranteed me a life of luxury and ease. But I never intended to rely on anyone.

I've always poured myself into my love of finance, achieving modest but meaningful success through my own efforts. Not long ago, a leading company in Paris extended a tempting job offer to me. Accepting it would have meant uprooting my life to another country for years. With our wedding on the horizon, the thought of being separated from Jude for that long didn't sit right with me. After a lot of back-and-forth, I politely turned it down.

But now, with nothing urgent tying me down, I decided to seize the opportunity—visit the company in Paris, broaden my horizons, and maybe even surprise Jude by showing up.