I stood frozen, my back stiff as I forced myself to look composed, even though my heart had already crumbled into dust.

Ethan spotted me almost instantly. He walked over briskly, his expression carrying a tenderness that was hard to ignore.

"Are you done, Ellie? Let's go to the bridal shop then," he said. That nickname, 'Ellie', had once carried warmth and familiarity for me. But now, it cut me like a knife.

He reached out, trying to take my hand. But I subconsciously stepped back.

The air between us hung awkwardly.

"I'm tired," I said, avoiding his gaze, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to try on wedding dresses anymore."

Ethan was stunned for a moment, his brows furrowed. He pressed his palm to my forehead. "Are you feeling sick? I'll take you to a doctor."

I could feel his large hand tremble slightly against my skin.

For a moment, I almost believed in him again—that he still cared about me. But loving someone and being used to caring for them were never the same thing.

I stared at him blankly as tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably.

Ethan panicked at the sight of that. "Don't cry, Ellie. Okay?"

He had never let me shed a tear for him before. I drew in a deep breath and forced a smile. "It's fine. Let's go check out the wedding dresses."

Perhaps, this was the last chance I would ever give him.

…

The bridal shop was softly lit, and the mirror stretched across the entire wall.

I tried on one wedding dress after another, layers of white tulle surrounding me like a carefully woven dream.

Ethan sat on the sofa, his gaze gentle but distant.

"Ethan," I asked softly, "you'll stay with me the whole time, right? You won't have something come up and leave halfway?"

He flashed me a gentle smile. "Of course not. I'll stay with you until you find the dress you're happy with."

That smile was too perfect, even I almost fell for it. But then—

"Mr. Larsen." That voice was soft as a whisper, but it pierced right through my heart like a needle.

It was Serena. She stood at the doorway, her eyes reflecting a mix of complicated emotions—regret and restraint.

Ethan's steps faltered briefly, but he quickly regained his composure, moving forward as if nothing had happened. Yet, the hand he held mine with tensed up ever so slightly. His knuckles stiffened, fingers cold to the touch.

In that instant, I heard the sound of my heart breaking.

I tried on more dresses, letting him comment on each, allowing myself to drown in the illusion. Perhaps in my past life, I had neglected him too much, which drove him to seek someone else.

So this time, I wouldn't let go.

But his responses grew increasingly indifferent. Each time I asked for his opinion, he would simply say, "Looks nice."

When his phone buzzed, his gaze was almost instantly drawn to the screen. He instinctively gripped it tightly, to the point his knuckles turned white, as if afraid I might see the content.

Those few seconds of silence were more piercing than any fights.

I stared at him, my fingers clutching my dress.

He finally looked up, offering an apologetic smile. "Something urgent came up, Ellie. You go ahead and choose—I'll be back right away."

I reached out, holding him tightly. "Don't go, please? Just for today?"

My voice trembled, and my fingertips were pale.

He lowered his gaze, silent. A few seconds later, still as gentle as ever, he pried my hand away. "I'm sorry. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The moment he left, my heart became completely hollow. I almost sank to my knees, but clung to the counter with all my strength, forcing myself to appear dignified.

"Ms. Brooks, we have a few new dresses here. Would you like to try them on?" The saleswoman's smile was bright and polite.

I fought back tears, adjusting the straps of my dress, but they had already fallen onto the white tulle as I whispered, "No, thank you. I don't need a wedding dress anymore."

She was stunned for a moment as her smile faltered. I turned and left the bridal shop.

It felt as if the wind carried me all the way to the most expensive restaurant in Floren.

Perhaps some truths must be witnessed with your own eyes before you can finally let go of them.

Through the glass, I saw them. Ethan sat by the window, wearing a black shirt with the collar slightly undone, his posture relaxed and yet composed.

Serena sat across from him, her eyes sparkling. Their glasses clinked together, the crisp sound felt like a slap across my face.

He wiped a trace of red wine from the corner of her lips, so tenderly it made me want to throw up. It was a gentleness I had never received before in this life.

My fingers pressed against the glass, cold and almost numb. In the reflection, I wore my pristine wedding dress, looking like a ridiculous ghost.

It turned out I hadn't lost him. I had just finally seen him for who he truly was. When I turned, I caught a glimpse of my reflection, split in two by the glass.

It was in that moment that I finally understood: the sharpest blade was never betrayal, but gentleness.

The lighting in the restaurant was soft and suggestive, reflecting off the glass like shattered gold. Through the glass, I could see Ethan. He was cutting up Serena's steak carefully, as if handling precious treasure.

He sliced it into small pieces and placed them on her plate, then peeled some prawns for her until his fingertips turned red from the rising steam.

It was such a tender sight, I almost forgot how to breathe. The corners of my lips curved upwards a little. But there was no warmth in that smile.

Ethan had always been a clean freak and never ate food someone else had touched. Whenever we had fish or chicken wings, I would pick out the bones, piece by piece, for him.

I thought that was love, but it turned out to be just a habit. Watching them, I felt my chest tighten with every breath. Even breathing became a difficult thing to do.

I didn't step forward. Instead, I turned and quietly left.

A gust of wind swept through the doorway, messing up my hair and carrying away the last piece of stubbornness in me.

From the moment he chose Serena, things were already over between us. When I returned to the villa, I began packing my belongings.

With every piece of clothing I folded, the ache in my chest worsened. Initially, I had only planned to stay in Verenza for four years, just long enough to graduate before returning home.

After all, Floren was where I'd grown up—the place I once thought of as my home. But now… I was taking everything with me. I was leaving for good.

Before I could finish packing, my phone rang. A familiar name lit up the screen—Ethan.

In my past life, he'd called me then, too. And at that time, I'd waited the entire night for him, just like a fool. He did come home eventually, only to say, "Sorry, something came up."

And he brought with him a mango cake—one filled with lies.

I took a deep breath and answered the call.

"Ellie? Weren't you waiting for me at the bridal shop?" His voice was as gentle as ever.

"I went home," I said flatly, "I don't feel like trying on wedding dresses anymore."

There was a brief silence before his familiar laugh came through.

"Alright then, I'll take you there again another day. Once I'm done here, I'll bring back that mango cake you love, okay?" Ethan said.

My heart twisted painfully. Mangoes… I've never liked mangoes.

The one who did was Serena.

Reflecting on my past life, Ethan would always bring me a mango cake whenever he returned from a trip. He did that for 60 years. But I'd always preferred strawberry cakes!

So it was most likely Serena who liked mango cakes all along.

At 11:00 pm, Ethan finally came home. His face was still flushed from excitement. His shirt was wrinkled, and one of the buttons on his jacket was missing.

I quietly looked away, pretending not to notice anything.

After Ethan showered, he came over and wrapped his arms tightly around me. Even after a shower, I could still smell the faint trace of cheap perfume on him.

I held my breath and turned my head slightly to the side. A single tear slipped silently onto the pillow.

Lost in his thoughts, Ethan didn't notice how I flinched from his touch.

"Our wedding's in three days, Ellie. I want to focus on finishing my work before then, so I can give all my time to you after the wedding." His voice was gentle, filled with hope for the future.

"We'll get our marriage certificate at the ceremony. After that, we'll travel to Elysia for our honeymoon. The Larsen family owns a private beach there. No one will be able to disturb us…"

I stayed silent and simply listened. I had heard the same promises in my past life after all. Yet, I never got to set foot on that beach in my entire life.

Ethan suddenly suggested bringing me there—it could be due to guilt, or perhaps it was an act.

Either way, I no longer cared.

…

The next morning, before dawn, a suitcase lay open on the floor, its zipper undone.

Ethan slung a bag over his shoulder and dressed neatly as he stepped out of the door. He said he had urgent business to attend to.

I sat quietly on the edge of the bed, watching the door close behind him.

Sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, landing on the phone by the table.

I picked it up and typed into the search bar, 'Serethan.'

In my past life, when Serena had thrown me out of the house, she'd shown her Instagram account to me with a proud smile.

"Ethan only liked you back then because he hadn't met me yet," Serena said, "He told me himself that he'd only learned what real love felt like until me. I've posted about all our shared memories online. Over three million people have blessed our love, yet you didn't even know about it, did you?"

Back then, I thought I'd already died once. But I realized death didn't hurt—coming to your senses and facing the truth did.

I turned off my phone screen and took a deep breath.

This time, I wouldn't wait any longer.

I didn't turn off my phone. The glare from the screen hurt my eyes in the dark.

I had just found Serena's account. It was a newly registered account, barely a month old. Before today, every post had been taken in secret.

Ethan's back, his side profile, his hands, his cuffs… Every angle was carefully framed, carrying the traces of a young girl's earnest devotion.

Just like how I once was when I first fell for him. Under each photo, she'd written a little story.

A poor girl, beaten down by fate, was sponsored by a young rich man—and in her gratitude, she fell in love with him.

"At my darkest moment, he appeared like an angel, paid off all my debts, and told me, 'Don't be afraid. I'm here.'"

She turned their story into a fairytale, a love story between the prince and Cinderella. Pure, romantic, and worthy of blessings.

The comments under each post stung more than the photos themselves.

"She loves him in such a humble way! I hope he can turn around and notice her."

"This is what mutual love looks like!"

"This is too sweet! Please share more of your love story!"

I stared at the screen and laughed. It sounded like glass cracking. So even betrayal could be written into a romantic love poem.

For the next two days, I kept checking on that account, as if trapped in a nightmare that looped endlessly. They went to Elysia Island. The sea that Ethan had promised to take me to for sixty years was somewhere I never got to see.

The waves crashed as they surfed and dove together on their private beach.

Fancy restaurants, fireworks, night skies, and sea breeze. Everything he had once promised me was being fulfilled, for someone else.

Photos after photos of smiles, hands held together, kisses.

My tears fell onto the screen, blurring the last photo—two hands with their fingers intertwined, resting on a marriage certificate.

The caption read: "We got our marriage certificate! Heaven knows how much I ugly cried just now. He kissed me with a smile, saying I'm the most beautiful girl in the world."

The comments were full of blessings.

"Congratulations!"

"This is what true fated love looks like!"

"He finally chose the right person!"

I was the only one who felt like I was thrown into ice-cold water, frozen to the core till I was numb. When my tears finally dried, I wiped the corners of my eyes and pulled up the suitcase I'd already packed.

Today happened to be the day I was supposed to go abroad. George was waiting for me at the airport. When he saw me, his gaze was gentle and filled with pride.

"Once you're in Verenza, study hard. Don't let your talent go to waste."

I nodded and gave him a light hug. "Thank you. I will."

In Novara, he was the only person I still cared for.

"Come visit me in Verenza when you're free," I said.

"I certainly will," he replied with a smile. I smiled back and bid him farewell.

I turned and headed toward the boarding gate, luggage rolling behind me. Then, I heard a familiar voice. I recognized that laugh all too well.

I didn't dare to look back. But out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Ethan holding Serena's hand as they brushed past me.

My steps faltered for a moment, but I forced myself to keep walking.

Ethan clearly didn't notice me. His head was lowered, and his eyes were filled with laughter—all reserved for her.

"Ethan," Serena asked softly, "Are you really going back to Elara? Then what about me?"

I stopped in my tracks.

The conversation behind me pierced straight through my ears.

"She's been with me for ten years," Ethan's voice was steady and gentle, "If I leave her, she won't survive. I have to take responsibility.

"Our wedding is tomorrow. I'll give her a fake certificate. Don't worry, the position of Mrs. Larsen is yours."

The words 'fake marriage certificate' were like a knife, cutting through the last shred of hesitation I had left.

So, even in this life, he still lied to me. Even our wedding was a whole act.

I didn't look back. Instead, I tightened my grip on my luggage handle and kept walking toward the boarding gate.

The announcements called passengers to board, as footsteps rose and fell all around me. But it felt as if I couldn't hear a single sound.

Ethan, you said I couldn't live without you, but you didn't realize that once a person truly died inside, they no longer fear losing anything.

I boarded the plane and fastened my seatbelt. Outside the window, the Floren night sky glittered just as it always had. But that light no longer belonged to me.

…..

At the same time, on the other side of the airport, Ethan walked past the exit with Serena. He came to a sudden stop and frowned.

"What's wrong?" Serena asked. Ethan looked up, lost in thought for a fleeting moment.

"It's Elara's perfume scent," he murmured. "She was just here."

A gust of wind brushed past him, carrying a faint scent of orange blossoms. That was the last trace of myself I left behind in Floren.