I loved Spencer.

Even though I knew he only saw Fiona when he looked at me.

I clung to the wedding dress he picked out himself, holding onto the dream of a future that felt so close.

But on our wedding day, she came back.

In front of everyone, he has my dress ripped apart—for her.

Now, he knelt before my grave, begging for forgiveness.

But all I could think was, even here, he was ruining my peace.

"Ms. Lane, your condition is unique. Without a kidney donor, I'm afraid..."

The doctor trailed off, but his pitying look said it all.

I let out a bitter laugh.

Years with Spencer Saun—of course my body would eventually call it quits.

And now that it had, I felt... weirdly calm. Like the pressure was finally gone.

Walking out of the hospital, I started drafting how I'd break the news to Spencer without sounding completely pathetic.

People get attached to stray cats just by feeding them. Would he feel even a shred of doubt about letting me go?

My thoughts were cut short when my phone buzzed, the sound jarring.

"Maya, get back to the office. Now."

***

In the dim corridor, Spencer crushed his lips against mine, harsh and unrelenting.

I flinched, trying to pull back, pain tightening my face. His eyes darkened.

"Don't frown." His voice was ice-cold.

I didn't need him to say the rest. '...Because then you won't look like her.'

Humiliation crept in, quiet and sharp.

He, on the other hand, seemed satisfied as tears pooled in my eyes. That's exactly how Fiona Wore looked when she pouted for his attention.

Faint footsteps echoed nearby. Spencer shoved me away, hard.

The back of my head slammed against the wall. Pain bloomed, sharp and dizzying, but I didn't dare react. I knew better than to make him angry again.

He smoothed his suit like nothing had happened, his face sliding back into cold indifference.

Then he turned and walked off, leaving me there.

I slid down to the floor, wrapping my arms around myself. The dizziness took a while to fade before I could finally stand.

***

In his office, Spencer exhaled a cloud of smoke, the scent heavy in the air.

I wanted to tell him to stop—that it was wrecking his health.

But I knew better. He never listened to me.

It wasn't until he lit his third cigarette that he finally glanced up, his gaze sharp and unreadable.

"Maya, let's get married."

***

The wedding gown was stunning, every detail impossibly perfect. Spencer had picked it out himself.

My fingers brushed over the intricate stitching.

How fitting—it was exactly like the dress Fiona once gushed about as her dream gown.

After Spencer proposed, I'd kept my illness to myself. If this was all just a fleeting fantasy, I wanted to savor it for a little longer.

Even the church was decorated to match Fiona's tastes, down to the last flower arrangement.

The guests watched, waiting for me to say the words, 'I do.'

But before I could, a commotion at the entrance turned every head in the room.

Fiona had arrived.

Breathless and wild-eyed, she stood in the doorway, her voice cutting through the silence as she pointed at Spencer.

"Spencer, that's my dream wedding gown! How could you let her wear it?"

Her voice cracked as tears shimmered in her eyes. She bit her lip, teetering between pitiful and defiant, her gaze fixed solely on him.

"You told me you'd wait for me forever! Did those words mean nothing? How could you betray even yourself?"

The room froze, stunned silence settling over the crowd.

Guests exchanged confused glances, unsure if they were witnessing a wedding or a soap opera.

What should've been the happiest day of my life was unraveling, thanks to Fiona.

For a split second, I almost wished I weren't the bride.

Watching her standing there, tears glistening, I even felt a flicker of pity.

Spencer moved toward her, but I gripped his hand tighter, refusing to let go.

Keeping my voice steady, I picked up the microphone, forcing a smile that barely reached my eyes.

"Fiona, this is my wedding to Spencer. If you've come to give us your blessing, you're welcome. But please, don't ruin it."

She said nothing, her gaze fixed stubbornly on Spencer, ignoring everyone else in the room.

Even standing alone, she carried herself with the confidence of someone backed by an entire army. Fiona was always relentless when it came to him.

Spencer shot me a sharp, displeased look, but I didn't budge.

Today, I was willing to risk it all.

The next moment, Spencer ripped his hand from mine and strode toward Fiona, as if drawn by an invisible string.

Everything else—the church, the guests, even me—blurred into the background. The only thing in sharp focus was the two of them.

Of course. The second she showed up, I'd already lost.

"I'm here, Spencer. Let's never be apart again," Fiona declared, snatching a microphone from one of the staff. Her words rang out boldly, unapologetically.

Without missing a beat, Spencer took her hand and led her toward the church doors.

Around me, murmurs swelled into a chorus of whispers. I forced a smile, stretching my lips painfully, trying to save face. But the tears came anyway, blurring my vision.

Through the haze, I watched them fade, their figures melting into the fog of my tears.

But then, Fiona stopped suddenly and spun around.

She pointed at my wedding gown, her voice dripping with venom.

"I want that dress back. It's mine."

The audacity hit like a slap, but before I could react, Clara—my one true friend—snapped.

"Fiona, you've gone too far!"

She lifted her skirt and charged down the aisle.

Spencer moved instinctively, stepping in front of Fiona to shield her, leaving Clara's fury squarely aimed at him.

"Spencer Saun, Fiona ditched you the moment your family hit rock bottom. Now that you're back on top, she's glued herself to you again? Oh, so this is true love, huh? Toss you a bone, and you come running like a loyal dog? How pathetic can you get?"

Her voice rang sharp and clear, slicing through the room.

She went on. "This is your wedding to Maya! Not only are you walking out with her, but you're letting her humiliate your bride in front of everyone? Spencer, what kind of man are you?"

Spencer Saun, the golden boy of the high society, had never been spoken to like that—even when he hit rock bottom.

And that was because I had always been there, standing between him and the world, shielding him from every blow.

Now, he didn't even glance at Clara. His focus was solely on Fiona, his voice soft, almost indulgent.

"We'll get you a brand-new, custom-made dress. Something no one else has touched."

But Fiona wasn't satisfied.

"No! This is the one I want. I won't wear it after her, but she can't have it either."

She'd rather destroy it than let me keep it.

Spencer rubbed his temples, visibly irritated. A silent signal followed, and from the shadows, his bodyguards emerged.

Two restrained Clara, while another group closed in on me.

Their hands were rough, pulling at my veil until it yanked painfully at my scalp. The sting blurred my vision for a moment.

Stripped in front of everyone, I could feel the weight of their mocking stares. Whispers and muffled laughter rippled through the room, each one slicing deeper.

It was like all my worst moments were being replayed. The times when anyone and everyone had stepped on me, trampling what little dignity I had left. Every small cruelty now wove itself into a suffocating net, trapping me completely.

Back then, Spencer was my shield, the one who stood between me and the world's malice.

Now, he was the malice.

"Let me go! I'll change in the dressing room myself!"

Desperation clawed at my voice as I clutched my chest, my cheeks burning with shame.

But Fiona's voice rang out again, dripping with cruelty.

"No. She'll change right here."

Spencer didn't say a word to stop her. The bodyguards carried out their orders with cold efficiency, their professionalism only adding to the humiliation.

Clara fought against the guards restraining her, tears streaking down her face as she screamed in frustration.

But nobody else moved. Not one person stood up for me.

Fiona finally got what she wanted.

She sauntered away, head held high like she'd just won a prize.

I crumpled to the floor, numb, my mind latching onto one small mercy: at least I'd worn an undershirt.

Clara broke free, rushing to me and draping her jacket over my shoulders. She sobbed uncontrollably, her cries raw and piercing.

But I couldn't cry. Not anymore.

Back at the house Spencer and I once shared, my fingerprint was gone from the system.

A few suitcases sat by the doorstep, their contents thrown together.

This was it. Everything I'd gathered over years of loving him.

I crouched, rummaging through the mess when the door creaked open.

The door creaked open, catching me off guard.

Fiona stood there, smug. "Maya Lane, you still have the nerve to show up here? If I'd been stripped in front of everyone like you were, I'd find some quiet hole to crawl into and die of shame."

I ignored her, focused on finding the one thing I needed.

When I didn't respond, Fiona dangled something in front of me. "Looking for this?"

In her hand was a simple black hair tie, adorned with a small yellow daisy.

To anyone else, it was cheap. But I'd kept it for so long that most of the yellow paint on the daisy had chipped away, leaving it faded and speckled.

It was my most precious belonging.

"Give it back," I said, reaching for it.

She yanked it away.

"This worthless little thing? This is why you stuck around all these years? Maya, you're just like the junk you hold onto—pathetic and cheap."

She tugged sharply at the hair tie, snapping it in two, then tossed the pieces to the ground.

I scrambled for it, but just as my fingers brushed the broken remnants, her heel slammed down on my hand.

She ground her heel into them. I tried to pull my hand back, but she pressed harder.

"That's enough."

Spencer stood in the doorway, wearing a bathrobe, his damp hair dripping water.

"Don't get so worked up right after coming back. It's not worth it," he said softly.

He crouched beside her, gently massaging her ankle as if she'd been the one hurt.

In the process, her weight shifted just enough for me to free my hand.

Ignoring the throbbing pain, I grabbed the broken pieces of the hair tie and tucked them into my pocket. They were useless now, beyond repair.

Then I looked up, meeting Spencer's gaze head-on.

For the first time, I didn't bother to hide the raw intensity in my stare.

The air between us grew heavier, a tension thick with everything unsaid.

Spencer's expression flickered—confusion, hesitation, maybe even something he couldn't name.

But it vanished the moment Fiona's soft voice broke the silence, pulling his attention back to her.

He turned, murmuring reassurances as he ushered her inside.

And then it was just the two of us.

He lit a cigarette, the motion as smooth and practiced as ever. The sharp scent made my throat itch.

He handed me a check.

"Maya, I owe you. This is compensation. Fiona's back now, and I need to treat her well."

A lump rose in my throat. For the first time, Spencer was apologizing.

I stared at him, silent. My hands stayed, not moving to take the check.

"Spencer, what do the years I spent with you mean to you?"

The answer was obvious. Still, I asked. Maybe I just needed to hear it.

For once, he looked... uncertain. That flicker of confusion returned to his eyes, like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

I waited, giving him time. For once, I wasn't in a rush to fill the silence.

But before he could speak, Fiona's voice rang out from inside the house, calling for him again.

He hesitated—only for a second—before tossing the check onto the ground.

Without another word, he walked away.

The way he stubbed out his cigarette was rushed and clumsy, almost childlike, like the first time he'd secretly smoked behind his parents' backs.

Even before stepping back into the house, Spencer checked himself over, patting his clothes and exhaling carefully to make sure the smell of smoke was completely gone.

Fiona hated that smell.

I didn't bother picking up the check.

Instead, I gathered my things, clutching the broken hair tie in my pocket, and left.

'Spencer, I hope you stay firm in your choice. Don't regret it. Never, ever regret it.'