I was the one who said yes, but somehow, everything started slipping out of my hands.

Everyone became busy at once, discussing dates, venues, and arrangements as though my yes had opened a door they had all been waiting to walk through.

I pressed my palms together in my lap.

Saying yes had been my decision.

What happened after it apparently belonged to everyone else.

"…we should keep it simple but elegant," my mother was saying. She was already thinking ahead. Her voice carried a kind of excitement I hadn't heard in a long time.

Victoria Vale nodded. "Something elegant. Nothing excessive."

"And preferably soon," Richard added.

I looked at him.

"How soon?"

The conversation stopped.

Richard turned towards me. "Nothing has been decided."

"You just said soon."

"I meant there's no reason for a long engagement if both of you have agreed."

"Both of us agreed five minutes ago."

My father shifted forward. "Avalan, no one is trying to rush you."

"You're discussing dates already."

"We're discussing possibilities."

"That sounds suspiciously similar."

Victoria laughed quietly.

"She has a point."

Richard glanced at his wife.

"I said nothing had been decided."

"And yet you've already shortened their engagement," she replied.

"I suggested it."

"Very efficiently."

My mother smiled.

For a moment, the conversation became almost normal.

That was the strange part.

Seven years of anger sat between Shadric and me, while our parents argued about wedding arrangements as though the biggest problem in the room was how quickly they could organise one.

Victoria turned to her son.

"What do you think?"

Everyone looked at Shadric.

He had barely spoken since I accepted.

His attention moved to me.

"The timing should be Avalan's decision."

I stared at him.

Richard leaned back. "You have no preference?"

"I have several. None of them matters if she doesn't agree."

I hadn't expected that.

For some reason, I had expected him to support his father. To tell me there was some practical reason the marriage needed to happen quickly.

Instead, he had handed the decision back to me.

"Avalan?"

My father's voice cut through my thoughts, steady but careful.

When I looked up, he wasn't smiling with the others.

"What do you think?"

I forced a small nod, keeping my expression calm. "It's fine."

"What is?" Victoria asked.

"The wedding. The timing. Whatever everyone has apparently decided to organise before dinner."

My mother laughed.

"We haven't decided anything."

"You could have fooled me."

Richard looked at me. "Would you prefer a long engagement?"

I glanced at Shadric.

He was watching me again.

"No."

My parents exchanged a look with the Vales.

"Then we can discuss possible dates when we meet again," my father said.

That was apparently enough.

Within seconds, they were discussing dates again.

While everyone else planned around us, Shadric watched more than he spoke.

I couldn't decide whether he regretted asking or hadn't expected me to agree.

I looked up.

Shadric was already watching me.

For a second, neither of us looked away.

Then Victoria asked him something about the guest list, and he turned towards her.

He had proposed the marriage.

Yet somehow, I was the one who had surprised him.

Why?

"We should give them some room to make decisions themselves," my mother said.

"Finally," I muttered.

She ignored me.

"You two should spend some time together before the next meeting."

I looked at her.

"What?"

"Without all of us sitting around you."

"That sounds suspiciously like a date."

"It can be a conversation."

"With dinner," Victoria added.

"That sounds even more like a date."

My father laughed.

I looked around the room.

No one appeared to understand the absurdity of what they were suggesting.

Then I looked at Shadric.

He wasn't laughing.

"Do you have a problem with it?" I asked.

"No."

Of course he didn't.

"Neither do I."

The answer left my mouth before I could reconsider it.

My mother nodded, apparently satisfied.

But the reality came a second later.

I had just agreed to spend time alone with Shadric.

Just us.

Maybe that was exactly what I needed.

I couldn't marry a man I couldn't sit across a table from.

And if I wanted revenge, avoiding him would accomplish nothing.

By the time the discussion ended, our parents had agreed to meet again about the arrangements.

"I'll be in my room," I said, standing before anyone could stop me.

The moment I stepped into my room and closed the door behind me, the silence felt different.

I leaned against the door and closed my eyes.

I had done it.

I had agreed to marry Shadric Vale.

I pushed myself away from the door and walked towards the window, my movements slower now, as if my body were finally catching up with everything my mind had been trying to avoid.

I knew why I had said yes.

Revenge sounded simple when it existed only in my head.

Marrying him made it real.

I opened my eyes.

Could I live beside Shadric long enough to make him pay for what I believed he had done?

I had better learn.

Because humiliating him once would never be enough.

If I wanted him to understand what he had done to me, I needed more than anger.

And I would have to make sure seventeen-year-old Avalan didn't get in the way.

A soft knock came at the door.

My mother opened it halfway and poked her head inside.

"Can I come in?"

"You're already halfway here."

"I can go back out and try again."

Without intending to, I almost smiled.

"Stay."

My mother came closer.

"You surprised me downstairs."

"I surprised myself."

She observed me for a moment.

"We want this to be your decision. It's not something we arrange, and you feel forced to accept."

"You all seemed very prepared for me to say yes."

"Prepared isn't the same as deciding for you."

"You had wedding plans ready."

"We had a conversation ready. Your father has apparently turned that into an international summit."

I laughed before I could stop myself.

She sat beside me.

Then the humour disappeared.

"You and Shadric haven't spoken properly in years."

"No."

"And now you're marrying him."

"That appears to be how today is going."

"Avalan."

I knew that tone.

"What?"

"I know what happened between you two."

I looked at her.

"I know something happened between you two."

I looked at her.

"You know some of it."

"You made sure of that."

I looked away.

She was right.

After everything happened, I told my parents enough to explain why I wanted nothing to do with Shadric.

But not enough to make them understand what it had actually done to me.

"You stopped talking about him," she continued. "You didn't want anyone mentioning the Vales around you. Then, eventually, you behaved as though none of it mattered."

"It doesn't."

My mother was quiet.

I turned towards her.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't need to."

She reached for my hand.

"I don't need you to tell me what happened tonight. But I need you to be honest with yourself about why you said yes."

I pulled my hand away gently.

"Do you want me to refuse him?"

"No."

"Then what do you want?"

"Honesty."

For a moment, I couldn't answer.

Because that was exactly the question I didn't want to answer.

"That doesn't mean you have to go through with it if you're unsure," she continued. "You deserve to be happy, Avalan."

"I'm not changing my mind."

"That isn't what I asked."

I looked at her.

"Then what are you asking?"

"Whether marrying Shadric is something you actually want."

I couldn't give her the real answer.

"I'm going through with it."

My mother looked at me for another moment, then sighed and walked towards the door.

"You should be sure," she said before leaving.

The door closed behind her.

Shortly after, I heard it.

Footsteps.

They stopped outside my door.

A knock followed.

I didn't move.

I didn't need to ask who it was.

I already knew.

Shadric.

Seven years ago, I had run before he could explain anything.

This time, I wasn't running.

Another knock.

"Avalan."

His voice travelled through the door.

I crossed the room and wrapped my fingers around the handle.

If I was going to marry my enemy, I needed to figure out how to stand in the same room with him without letting the past control me.

I opened the door.

Shadric stood on the other side.

Alone.

"We need to talk."

I tightened my grip on the handle.

"You've had seven years."

He said nothing.

That familiar silence irritated me more than an argument would have.

"You have absolutely no right to come up here," I said through clenched teeth, fighting to keep my voice steady."

"Then we can talk here."

He remained in the doorway.

A sharp, unamusing laugh bubbled up in my throat.

"You want to talk?" I echoed, mocking him.

"You disappear for years, and now you suddenly want a chat?"

His jaw ticked.

"I fully expected you to reject the proposal," he admitted, his voice low.

"Then why propose at all?"

"Because the families wanted the arrangement."

"And you?"

He paused.

"I agreed."

"Just like that?"

"It wasn't just like that."

"Then explain it."

"There were discussions."

"Between whom?"

"Our parents. The families."

"Except me."

"You were always going to have the final choice."

I laughed.

"How generous."

"Would you rather I had decided for you?"

"I would rather you hadn't walked back into my life with a marriage proposal after seven years of silence."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"And I'm not interested in answering your questions."

"You agreed to marry me."

"And I fully expected you to have the decency to stay dead to me. It looks like neither of us is getting what we wanted."

"You are furious," he noted quietly.

I stared at him.

"Are you actually serious right now?"

"Yet you gave your consent."

"Maybe I changed my mind."

"About me?"

"About marriage."

"To me."

I stared at him.

"You're very interested in the distinction."

"I have reason to be."

"Why? Afraid I might have motives of my own?"

He didn't answer.

That irritated me.

"You came here expecting me to refuse you. Instead, I agreed. Now you're standing outside my bedroom trying to work out why."

"Yes."

At least he admitted it.

"Then keep wondering."

I folded my arms.

"Does my consent ruin your little game?"

"You don't know what you're walking into."

I gave a dry laugh.

"That's rich, coming from the man I blame for destroying me."

"You are still entirely convinced that you know the whole story."

"I know what I saw."

"No. You know what you were shown."

"I was there."

"So was I."

"Exactly."

"That doesn't mean you saw everything."

"I saw enough."

"Did you?"

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Stand here seven years later and try to make me question my own memory."

"I'm asking you to question what you concluded from it."

"I didn't conclude anything. I watched it happen."

"You watched part of it happen."

"My letter was being read in front of everyone. People were filming."

"Yes."

"They were laughing."

"I know."

"And you were there, doing nothing."

"That's what you believed I was doing."

"Then which part exactly have I imagined?"

"None of it."

I let out a short breath.

"Then what are we arguing about?"

"Who caused it."

I stared at him.

"So that's your defence? Someone else caused it?"

"It isn't a defence."

"Then why did you stand there?"

Shadric dragged a hand through his hair.

"It was never supposed to happen that way."

I stared at him.

"What does that mean?"

"I'm saying what happened to you was planned. Just not by me."

"You still stood there and let them humiliate me."

"Do you know what happened to me afterwards?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I couldn't look people in the eye for months. Every time someone said your name, I remembered that day."

"I know."

"Stop saying that."

"Why?"

"Because you don't get to know. You don't get to stand there and tell me you knew what was happening to me when you did nothing about it."

"You wouldn't speak to me."

"I shouldn't have had to."

"No. You shouldn't."

I cupped a hand over my mouth and drew a slow breath through my nose.

I had expected an argument.

He gave me none.

"Then don't stand there now pretending seven years of silence can be fixed by telling me I misunderstood."

"I'm not asking you to forgive me."

"Good."

"I'm asking you to stop blaming me for something I didn't do."

I looked away and shook my head.

"No," I rasped, stepping back. "No, I'm not doing this with you. Don't do that."

"Do what, Avalan?"

"Act like my pain suddenly matters to you after all this time."

"It never stopped mattering."

I hated the way he said it.

Quietly. Without asking me to believe him.

"You don't get to say things like that."

"Why?"

"Because they mean nothing now."

"Then let them mean nothing."

"You think that's clever?"

"No."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"For you to know the truth."

I laughed.

"You propose marriage and come upstairs to challenge everything I've believed for seven years, and now you're offering me the truth?"

"I'm offering you the chance to question what you believe."

"You already told me I don't know what I'm walking into."

"You don't."

"Then tell me."

Shadric was quiet.

"Can't talk anymore?"

"The person who planned what happened that day wasn't me."

I stared at him.

"Then who was it?"

Shadric said nothing.

"Who?"

His answer came quietly.

"That's the problem, Avalan. You never stayed long enough to ask."

I barely slept that night.

The conversation followed me everywhere, refusing to leave my head no matter how hard I tried to push it away.

Why should I even care?

Why should one conversation matter after seven years?

This was the same man who had girls around him all the time back then. The same man who stood there while my heart broke into pieces.

So why was part of me still thinking about what he said?

"Avalan!"

My mother's voice pulled me away from my thoughts before my bedroom door opened. She stepped inside, carrying different fabric samples and jewellery catalogues, looking far too excited for someone whose daughter had agreed to marry a man she hadn't spoken to properly in seven years.

"You're not ready yet?" she asked, surprised.

I blinked slowly. "Ready for what?"

"For the engagement preparations." She frowned lightly. "His family will be here soon."

Right.

The engagement.

For a second, I completely forgot this was actually happening.

Yesterday, marriage still felt like a decision I had made. Today, there were fabrics, jewellery catalogues, and relatives coming over. Apparently, revenge came with wedding preparations.

My heart panicked immediately.

I forced myself out of bed while my mother talked about decorations, guests, and family expectations. My thoughts were louder.

My mother stopped talking and looked at me.

"What?"

"You've barely heard a word I've said."

"I've heard you."

"Then what did I just say?"

I looked at the fabrics in her hands.

"Something about colours."

"I haven't mentioned colours in five minutes."

I sighed.

"Did something happen with Shadric yesterday?"

My eyes moved to hers.

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because you've been distracted since I came in."

I looked away.

"He thinks I don't know the whole story."

"About what happened seven years ago?"

"Apparently."

"Do you believe him?"

"No."

The answer came easily. Too easily.

Because if I didn't believe him, why had I spent half the night thinking about what he had said?

By afternoon, the house had turned chaotic.

Relatives moved around excitedly while voices filled every corner of the sitting room. Fabrics covered the sofas, jewellery boxes sat open on the table, and different family members argued over decorations as if the wedding were happening tomorrow.

I sat quietly while one woman adjusted the sleeve of a dress against my arm.

"This colour fits her perfectly."

"No," another disagreed immediately. "Gold would look richer."

Situations like this were never really about the people getting married.

It was always about appearances, expectations, and family reputation.

"Avalan, sit properly," my aunt scolded lightly when I shifted uncomfortably.

I straightened without replying.

Everything about today felt exhausting. Too loud and fake. Yet I noticed the exact moment he walked in.

I didn't hear the door open.

I didn't hear anyone call his name.

But my body reacted before my mind did.

And when I finally looked up, his eyes were already on me.

He stood beside his father near the entrance, calm and composed as relatives greeted him warmly.

"Avalan, come and sit beside him."

My aunt tapped the space beside him excitedly.

My stomach twisted immediately.

I didn't want to.

But refusing would create attention I wasn't ready for.

I walked over and sat beside him, painfully aware of the tension between us.

He was sitting too close.

I could smell his cologne faintly now, and the familiarity of it irritated me instantly because it dragged old memories back before I could stop them.

"You look tired."

His voice was low enough that nobody else noticed.

I kept my eyes ahead. "And you sound concerned."

Neither of us said anything for a few seconds.

Then quietly, "Maybe I am."

I turned sharply to look at him, searching his face for mockery or manipulation.

But his expression stayed calm.

That alone got me more annoyed.

Before I could reply, his mother placed a small velvet box on the table.

"We finally picked the engagement ring."

Everyone leaned closer. Everyone, except me.

My chest raced in panic as she opened the box carefully, revealing a beautiful ring resting against white satin.

Reality hit me again. This was real.

I was actually sitting beside the man I still blamed for turning my private feelings into public humiliation… I was preparing to marry him while our families smiled around us, as if this were some perfect love story.

That irony made me sick.

"What do you think?" my mother asked softly.

"It's nice," I answered quietly.

Beside me, I felt his attention shift towards me, as though he noticed every tiny change in my voice.

"Put it on her," one of my aunties said excitedly.

Before I could react properly, the ring was already in his hand.

The room suddenly felt hot and small.

I kept my breathing steady as he turned toward me, reaching for my hand slowly.

The moment his fingers touched mine, my body reacted.

And judging from the slight pause in his movement, so did his.

I hated how my body still noticed him.

His fingers wrapped around my hand gently as he slid the ring onto my finger.

The contact between us was brief but dangerous.

Memories rushed back too quickly. The younger version of me who once wanted this ring, who once dreamed about him looking at her this way, came back alive.

When the ring settled properly onto my finger, his thumb brushed lightly against my skin before he let go.

It was a small movement. It could have been accidental, but it was enough to send my heartbeat racing.

His eyes lifted to mine slowly.

And there it was again. That guarded look. That gaze made me feel like he was trying to say something without actually saying it.

"You don't have to force yourself."

His voice was quiet enough that only I could hear.

A bitter laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

"That's interesting," I murmured. "Coming from you."

His expression shifted.

The noise around us faded as the tension tightened between us.

"You still think I wanted to hurt you," he said quietly.

My throat dried instantly.

"Why are you doing this now?"

His gaze stayed on mine. "Doing what?"

"Trying to convince me I got everything wrong."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Trying to get you to question what you think you know."

"After seven years?"

"You wouldn't listen seven years ago."

"And somehow, that's my fault?"

"I didn't say it was."

"You don't have to. You keep standing there talking as though one conversation should suddenly make me doubt everything I remember."

Before he could respond, my cousin appeared beside us.

"We should take engagement pictures!"

The room immediately burst into agreement.

"Yes! Stand closer together."

"They look good already."

"Wait, let her fix her hair first."

Closer?

My stomach dropped.

I stood up too quickly from the sofa. "I need water."

Nobody stopped me—nobody, except him.

The moment I turned away, his fingers caught mine.

I stopped.

Relatives were talking, laughing, and discussing decorations, but for me, everything suddenly slowed.

I looked down at his fingers around mine.

Then, slowly, back at him.

And for the first time since all this started, his calm expression cracked slightly.

"Avalan"

My name sounded different coming from him now.

There was an edge to it I hadn't heard before.

"Stop looking at me like I'm your enemy."

Enemy?

After everything he did?

A bitter smile nearly left my lips.

Slowly, I slipped my hand from his and stepped back before answering.

"You really don't understand, do you?"

His brows hardened slightly.

"You destroyed every good thing I ever felt for you years ago."

"And now," I continued, holding his gaze firmly, "you suddenly expect me to believe whatever story you want to tell?"

"Avalan—"

"No."

I cut him off. Because if he kept talking, I feared I might actually listen.

"You don't get to confuse me anymore," I said quietly, my voice steadier now. "Not after what you did."

He looked away. I couldn't tell whether it was pain or frustration.

I didn't care which. This had stopped being about love a long time ago.

But that girl no longer existed.

What stood before him now was someone built from years of pain, bitterness, and anger.

Someone who remembered every moment she hated herself for loving him.

And if he thought marriage would erase any of that, then he clearly didn't know me at all.

I held his gaze for one final second before stepping away from him completely.

But this time, my heartbeat wasn't racing because of old feelings. It was racing because, after seven years of carrying what he had done to me, I finally had the chance to make him lose something, too.