It wasn't until the afternoon that Isabelle finally messaged me to explain. "Shawn's sick. We have performances coming up the next few days, so I can't just leave him alone."

It was a clumsy lie. Just a few hours earlier, I had come across Shawn's social media post with the caption, "Helping a friend escape her controlling boyfriend." The photo showed two hands making peace signs.

Isabelle said, "You should make another appointment with the studio. We can just retake the wedding photos another time."

There was no need to make another appointment for a retake. We weren't getting married.

But I still replied to Isabelle. "Got it. Just focus on your rehearsals."

I watched as the "typing…" indicator appeared and lingered for a long time. She probably hadn't been expecting this kind of response from me.

In the end, Isabelle only replied, "You too."

…

Isabelle didn't contact me again over the next few days, but she kept updating her social media.

Most of her posts were about daily rehearsals, the low-fat meals she ate to stay in shape, and little snippets of her daily life.

It was as if she were deliberately posting them for me to see. So I did exactly what she wanted and liked all her posts.

At the same time, I kept myself busy. I organized the materials I had accumulated over the years and donated the extra things in the house.

The roses I had cultivated in the greenhouse were in full bloom. I cut every single one of them, arranged them into two bouquets, and knocked on Professor White's office door.

"Thank you for your guidance all these years, Professor White. These flowers are for you," I said.

Professor White looked surprised. "I remember when you first planted them, you said you were saving them for someone important when they finally bloomed."

A faint ache spread through my chest. I joked, "You're someone important to me."

We both knew it was a lie, but neither of us said anything more.

Professor White looked down and admired the fully bloomed roses. "They've blossomed beautifully. My wife will definitely like them."

After bidding him goodbye, I went to the orphanage I had grown up in and gave the other bouquet to Ms. Portia Leannard, the director. I arrived just as the children were playing in the courtyard.

My phone buzzed with a reminder notification. I dismissed it without even looking, switching my phone to silent.

I sat down in the courtyard and told Ms. Leannard that I was going to the northwest to grow roses.

Before she could respond, the children had already crowded around her, drawn to the flowers in her hands.

"So pretty!"

"They're beautiful!"

Ms. Leannard unwrapped the bouquet and handed the roses out to each of the children. One particularly bold child asked me, "Can you even grow roses in the northwest when it's all desert?"

I grinned mischievously and said, "Of course you can. Just wait and see."

"Wow, that's so cool!"

…

After leaving the orphanage, I took out my phone and saw that I had been bombarded with calls.

I answered the one that was still coming through and was met with a furious tirade the moment it connected.

"Nathan Justice, aren't you Isabelle's fiance? It's her 100th stage play and you didn't even show up. Not only that, you're not even sending her those lousy roses of yours anymore? She's truly unlucky to be marrying someone like you!"

Isabelle's friends were the ones who mocked me for giving Isabelle roses, and now they were angry that I hadn't brought any.

I held the phone slightly away from my ear and waited for the person on the other end to finish yelling. Then, I said, "I got busy and forgot. I'll transfer you some money. Just buy whatever you want yourself."

As I spoke, I opened her contact and sent her some money. After that, I didn't bother waiting for her reaction and simply hung up.

Even though the next day was supposed to be our wedding, Isabelle and her friends would most likely celebrate together tonight anyway.

By the time I finished checking my belongings and was about to leave, Isabelle pushed the door open. Her expression was cold as she shoved past me and headed straight to the bedroom.

I knew she was trying to start another cold war.

In the past, I had always been the one to give in whenever this happened. I had cared too much, so I tried everything just to coax Isabelle back.

And she would take advantage of that to make things even harder for me. After all, it was easy to push someone too far when you knew they wouldn't leave.

But now, I was tired.

The cab was already waiting for me downstairs. I picked up my suitcase and headed down.

At a glance, I saw Shawn leaning casually against his car, smiling at me. "I'm stealing your bride tonight. I'll return her tomorrow."

The provocation in his tone was obvious, but I no longer cared. I merely glanced at him indifferently before getting into the cab and leaving.

After getting into the car, I sent Isabelle one last message. "Congratulations on your wedding."

I wished Isabelle happiness with Shawn.