After being caught in the rain, Maude came down with a mild cold.

She fell into a hazy sleep, and when she finally woke, the afternoon was already well underway.

As she stepped out of her room, she froze in place.

Right before her, Orson was carefully drying Imogen's damp hair with a towel.

"Oh, come on, stop fussing. It's not like I got drenched," Imogen said.

"Still, even a little dampness can make you sick. I don't want you to end up with a cold," Orson insisted.

Maude stood frozen as a sudden memory washed over her.

In their first year together, Orson had taken her to a concert he'd been eager to see.

Though Maude wasn't feeling well, she stayed quiet, not wanting to ruin the evening.

Orson noticed immediately.

Less than ten minutes into the show, he didn't hesitate to leave and rushed her straight to the hospital.

Afterward, he felt guilty for overlooking the warning signs and causing her to suffer in silence.

For the next four years, even the faintest cough from her would send him into a frenzy.

Now, that same man was showering all his care on someone else.

After drying Imogen's hair, Orson finally noticed Maude standing there.

"Honey, don't overthink things, we—"

Imogen cut him off. "There were cockroaches at my place, and I got scared. Orson said I could stay here for a while."

Maude turned to Orson. "So that's the urgent matter you had to rush off for?"

"Immy's not like you," Orson snapped. "She's been spoiled her entire life. She's never known real hardship. She…"

Maude's eyes welled up with tears.

Orson froze, wishing he could take the words back.

"I'm sorry, that's not what I meant—"

Maude's parents had divorced shortly after she was born. She spent her entire childhood moving from one household to another, always feeling like an unwanted burden.

Orson knew her greatest dream was simply to have a place to call home.

By their third year together, he had worked himself to the bone to buy this house—a place he proudly called theirs.

Now, he was letting another woman move in.

His words broke Maude's heart.

"It's fine," she murmured.

After all, she had bared her soul willingly.

However, this time would be the last.

Orson let out a breath of relief and grasped Maude's hand.

Without warning, Imogen spoke up. "Orson, since you gave me the bedroom, where will you be sleeping?"

A shiver ran through his hand as he held Maude's. "I'll be in the study," he answered.

Once Imogen had gone inside, Orson hurried to explain, "Please don't misunderstand this, honey. I want you to rest well before the wedding. I will sleep in the study, really. Imogen and I are just friends now."

Maude withdrew her hand. "It's fine."

Her voice was steady, but it stirred a strange unease in Orson's chest.

Later that night, a thunderstorm raged outside.

Maude's phone lit up with a message from Orson.

"Honey, I'm not used to sleeping without you."

At the same time, a photo arrived from Imogen.

In it, Orson sat by the bed, smiling gently while Imogen held onto his wrist.

"I was frightened by the thunder, so he offered to stay with me. Do you want me to send him away?"

Maude felt a tightness in her chest.

She got up and reached for her cold medicine. Just then, another message from Orson came through.

"I really wish we could get married soon so that we could fall asleep in each other's arms every night."

Maude took the pills with a sip of water, forcing down both the medicine and the rising nausea in her throat.

She quickly typed a short reply. "It's coming soon."

Opening Imogen's chat, she wrote, "It's fine. Do whatever you want."

Lying in bed, Maude counted the days.

Only 14 remained.

The next morning, Orson prepared breakfast.

His eyes remained fixed on Maude, trying to read her expression. "Honey, last night was unbearable without you. Just 13 more days, and then I can finally marry you."

"You're right. 13 more days," Maude echoed, her gaze cold and unreadable.

"Orson, can you pass me some ravioli?" Imogen asked.

As Orson picked one up with his fork, Imogen leaned in and ate it straight from his hand.

He shot a glance at Maude. "Don't mind her. She's just playful like that."

Orson had always kept strict boundaries with other women, careful to avoid hurting Maude.

However, with Imogen, those boundaries seemed to vanish entirely.

"It's fine," Maude said, keeping her eyes down.

Orson was caught off guard.

"Honey, you—"

"Maude, do you even know what Orson used to be like?" Imogen cut in, her voice laced with defiance.

"He was a tough, stubborn guy, but he always listened to me. Whatever I wanted to eat, he learned to make it. He even remembered my menstrual cycle and planned surprises for me…"

Maude listened in silence, her throat tightening.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

The very things she had once admired in Orson were proof of how deeply he had loved Imogen.

"Immy, cut it out."

Orson's protest sounded half-hearted, his tone more yielding than commanding.

Maude's appetite vanished completely.

She stood up and went to her room to grab some documents.

When she returned, Orson was holding her phone.

"Someone from HR called," he said. "They want to know when you'll bring the handover documents. Didn't you already take time off for the wedding? What's left to hand over?"

Maude had used all her annual leave to secure a month-long break for the wedding.

"There were a few things I missed. I need to go in for a bit."

Orson didn't think much of it. "It's raining out. I'll come with you."

Maude held the folder close to her chest, her visa papers tucked safely inside.

It didn't matter whether he found out now or later. She never intended to hide it from him anyway.

The car ride passed in silence.

When they arrived at the office building, Orson opened an umbrella and walked Maude to the entrance.

His eyes stayed fixed on his phone as he replied to messages, his attention far away.

Still, he held the umbrella mostly over her, protecting her from the rain like he always had.

It turned out some acts of kindness were nothing more than mere performance.

Maude's gaze hardened as she watched him.

"Just hold on a little longer, Orson. This charade will end soon," she thought.

From the front doors, someone from HR stepped out to meet her.

"Maude, your visa documents for the overseas assignment…"

"Immy slipped and fell at home…"

Orson stopped walking abruptly, his heart pounding so hard that the HR officer's words barely registered.

"I need to go back—"

Before he could say more, Maude was already running through the rain toward the building's shelter.

She looked back at him calmly and said, "Go ahead."

Orson hadn't expected her to let him go so easily. He gazed at her, a flicker of unease stirring in his chest.

Just as he stepped forward, Imogen's call came through.

"It hurts," she whimpered.

Suddenly, every ounce of hesitation drained from Orson.

"I'll check on Immy first. Stay here. I'll come back for you later."

In the past, Maude would have believed those words without a second thought.

Now, she couldn't bring herself to trust them at all.

After handing over her documents to the HR officer, she signed the contract for the overseas assignment.

By the time she got home, two hours had already passed.

Orson finally called.

"Honey, something urgent came up at work, so I won't be able to pick you up. Could you take a cab home instead?"

At that moment, her phone lit up with a new photo.

It showed Orson and the supposedly "injured" Imogen walking arm in arm through a furniture store, looking like a newlywed couple.

Maude wasn't surprised by the broken promise. She replied calmly, "That's fine. Work comes first."

In the background, she caught the faint sound of a woman's laughter.

Orson shifted the phone away for a moment. After a pause, he said, "Call me when you get home, okay? Otherwise, I'll worry—"

Before he could finish, Maude hung up.

She carefully saved each photo one by one.

After putting her phone down, she began packing her bags.

Over the course of five years, Orson's gifts had piled up, occupying every corner of her room.

Maude photographed each item and listed them for sale online.

When it was all done, only a single ring remained.

It was handmade by Orson for their first anniversary.

She held the worn band up to the light. Two faintly engraved letters shone inside.

I F…

Imogen Fenwick.

After four years, the truth struck Maude like a thunderbolt, catching her completely off guard.

How laughable.

Even these gifts had never truly been meant for her.

Without hesitation, she threw the ring straight into the trash.

In the days that followed, Orson spent all his time with Imogen, steadily filling the house with new things.

Meanwhile, Maude's presence in the home faded as her belongings slowly disappeared.

Only eight days remained until the wedding.

When Maude returned from finalizing her visa, she found the two of them picking out wedding invitations together.

Imogen called her over, effortlessly slipping into the role of lady of the house. "Why don't you come take a look and pick one too?"

The invitations spread across the couch were the product of days of careful research by Maude, each one thoughtfully chosen.

She had once dreamed of making every detail of her wedding perfect.

"I'll pass," Maude said, brushing past them and heading to her room.

After all, those invitations weren't meant for her wedding anymore.

That evening, Imogen knocked on Maude's door.

"This is the invitation Orson chose. Do you know why he picked it?"

Maude took it from her and opened it.

The handwriting inside was unmistakably Orson's.

The groom's name was his.

However, the bride's name… was Imogen.

"He stood by me while I picked out the wedding dress. He was also the one who personally selected the hotel and took care of these invitations," Imogen said, a smug smile curling at the corners of her lips.

"You could say he planned every detail of this wedding for me.

"Even after all this, you still want to marry him? Is it worth it?"