Before the wedding, Daniel looked at me with a mix of hesitation and hope. "Can you give me a month?" he asked.

He wanted to try rekindling his relationship with his ex-girlfriend. If he succeeded, it would prove they were meant to be. If he failed, he promised to return, marry me, and leave her in the past forever.

I didn’t argue. Instead, I smiled faintly and replied sincerely, "Go ahead, give it a try. After all, life shouldn’t have regrets, right?"

That night, he drove off, looking relieved, almost happy. Meanwhile, I quietly packed my belongings and called home.

"Mom," I said, my voice steady, "I’m not getting married. I’m coming home to help you with the family business."

——

I could feel my mother’s excitement through the phone. "Finally! Your dad and I always said that man wasn’t reliable. Seven years of dating, and he still couldn’t commit!"

She didn’t wait for me to reply. "Perfect timing. Our art studio in Chicago needs someone to settle the accounts. I’ll arrange everything for you."

"Sure," I said, cutting the conversation short. Chicago sounded ideal—far enough to leave everything, especially him, behind.

As I stood amidst the scattered wedding souvenirs, all I felt was a quiet, bitter amusement. Seven years with Daniel Rhodes. Seven years of believing we had a future.

I stood by his side through the toughest years of his life, believing that all the sacrifices would eventually pay off. But what I thought was the start of our happily ever after turned out to be nothing more than a fragile dream.

When I graduated, everyone—teachers, classmates, even family—thought Daniel and I would celebrate with a graduation certificate in one hand and a marriage certificate in the other. After all, I attended the ceremony wearing a wedding dress, full of hope and love.

While others dreamed of bright futures, six-figure salaries, or pursuing advanced degrees, I turned my back on the promising path my parents had laid out for me. I chose him. Firmly. Without hesitation. All I ever wanted was to marry Daniel and spend the rest of my life by his side.

Years passed. Friends around me built their lives—marrying, starting families, and some even remarrying. But I waited. Always waiting for Daniel. Waiting for the day he would finally be ready. Waiting for him to say, "Let’s get married."

Seven years slipped through my fingers, and with them, countless class reunions where my supposed wedding became a recurring joke. My friends would step in to explain for me, teasing that I simply enjoyed being in love and wasn’t ready for the “grave of marriage.”

But that wasn’t the truth. Not even close. I wanted to settle down more than anyone else, to be his wife, to start our forever.

The real truth? Daniel wasn’t waiting for the right time—he was waiting for someone else. His first love, Abigail Turner.

Three months ago, she returned to Washington.

Daniel didn’t say much after that.

Instead of pulling away, Daniel became unusually active in preparing for our wedding.

He accompanied me to try on wedding dresses, patiently staying with me from morning till night.

He joined me in sampling dishes at countless hotels, never showing a hint of impatience, even when we changed venues over and over.

He suddenly took interest in the smallest details—like choosing the perfect souvenirs—things he had never cared about before.

I thought it was his way of giving me a sense of security, a silent promise that he had finally let go of Abigail. I dared to believe he had moved on.

But that illusion shattered late one night.

I woke up and noticed the light in his study was still on. Curious, I walked over, only to see him holding Abigail’s belongings, taken carefully from the bookcase. He cradled them like treasures, his expression tender, almost reverent.

I froze in the doorway, watching as he sat there, lost in memories. He didn’t see me, but I saw everything.

In that moment, it became painfully clear—this wasn’t just about Daniel and me. Our future wasn’t in our hands. Whether we could get married depended on Abigail, and whether she would ever want him back.

I was just a placeholder, a role easily discarded.

Isn’t there a saying? The things we can’t have in our youth will haunt us for a lifetime.

If that’s true for a forgotten trinket, how much stronger must it be for someone who once meant everything?

As the wedding day approached, tasks began to pile up. Amid the chaos, I noticed the souvenirs we had received that afternoon weren’t packed properly.

After arguing fruitlessly with the merchant, I had no choice but to take the souvenirs home and pack them myself. The task stretched late into the night, and by the time I looked up, the clock was inching toward the early hours of the morning.

Daniel hadn’t returned yet.

He’d gone to attend an event in another city, and his flight was supposed to land at 11 PM. Just as I picked up my phone to message him, I heard the sound of the door unlocking.

He stepped in, arms full of things, and greeted me the way he always did—with a soft kiss on the cheek. Among the items he carried were gifts and a bouquet of fresh flowers.

“Lily,” he said, his voice warm yet somber. “Thank you for staying with me all these years.”

I knew what he meant.

When he graduated, Daniel had a bold dream of starting his own business. No one believed in him, not even his family. No one, except me. I went against my parents’ wishes, took the dowry they had carefully prepared, and sold every shop and house I owned to fund his dream. It wasn’t easy, but I believed in him wholeheartedly.

Time proved me right. Daniel’s company is now a leader in the industry. He is young, successful, and admired—a man who has achieved everything he once set out to accomplish.

And now, he wanted to tie up the loose ends of his past.

When he put the gifts down and turned to me, his expression was serious. “Lily, I want to spend a month trying to get Abigail back,” he said, his tone calm but unwavering.

I wasn’t surprised.

“I don’t want to leave any regrets,” he continued. “You wouldn’t want me to still think about another person after we’re married, would you? I promise that if I don’t succeed, I’ll let her go completely. I’ll guard you and spend the rest of my life with you.”

His eyes were red, his voice thick with emotion. It was the kind of vulnerability that should have moved me, should have made me feel closer to him.

Instead, all I felt was an ache in my chest.

I couldn’t say no.

Maybe it was because I remembered how, when we first started dating, he had told me plainly that Abigail still lived in his heart. If you mind, you shouldn’t be with me, he had said.

I didn’t mind then. I thought I could wait, that time and love would heal the wounds she left behind.

But now, as I looked at him standing before me, asking for permission to chase her once more, I realized how naive I had been.

“Okay,” I said quietly, my voice steady despite the storm inside. “Go.”

I looked at Daniel, my face serious as I replied, “After all, life should not leave regrets, right?”

He didn’t even pause to confirm if I truly meant it. Instead, he smiled, thanked me for understanding him—just as I always had—and left, happily packing his things and driving away into the night.

I stood amidst the wedding souvenirs scattered across the floor. The elegant packaging, the neatly placed gifts—every detail carefully arranged by my hands just hours ago. A wave of irony washed over me.

It’s a pity they’ll never be sent out.

Picking up the bouquet Daniel had brought earlier, I noticed a small card tucked inside. I hesitated, then flipped it over.

Abigail, long time no see. I hope you’re still doing well.

The name hit me like a cold gust of wind.

So, he had bought two bouquets—one for me and one for her. In his rush, he must have taken the wrong one.

I didn’t mind. But I couldn’t help but wonder: would he feel a twinge of awkwardness when he handed her my flowers and realized his mistake?

Without another thought, I tossed the bouquet into the trash.

Later, I noticed a message from my mother.

The flight is booked for a week from now. You’ve been in Washington for so many years—use this time to say goodbye.

I decided to do just that.

While Daniel was away, I roamed the city I had called home for so long. I had dinner with friends, revisited old haunts, and slowly said my farewells to Washington.

Daniel’s calls came like clockwork every day.

“Lily, what are you up to? I miss you.”

“Nothing much,” I replied, my voice steady. “Just packing up at home.”

I told him the truth.

He didn’t ask any more questions, but he kept calling to share where he was and what he was doing.

Daniel mentioned how nervous he was about meeting Abigail after all these years.

It struck me as odd—this habit of ours. Over the years, we have grown accustomed to sharing everything. Whenever he traveled for work, it was natural for us to say we missed each other and chat about the day’s events.

Now, even as he prepared to see Abigail, he still called me to report.

Habit, I realized, is a particularly terrible thing.

I remained silent for a while.

“Are you angry? Why aren’t you saying anything?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“No,” I said softly, the words bitter on my tongue. “I wish you the best.”

Even I wasn’t sure how I managed to say it.

Daniel was silent for a moment too. Then, after what felt like forever, he said quietly, “I’ll come back as soon as possible. No matter what the result is, I love you.”

I wanted to believe him—I might have even believed him for a fleeting second. But it didn’t matter anymore.

Because this time, I was ready to let go.

Three days later, Daniel returned.

I hadn’t expected him to come back so soon. But what shocked me more was that standing next to him was Abigail.

I still remember the first time I met Abigail. Back then, I had felt a pang of envy.

She was the kind of girl who wasn’t afraid to break the rules—a little wild, yet undeniably magnetic. Stunningly beautiful, she exuded confidence and flair.

The air between us was tense, laden with unspoken history.

The kind of natural charisma Abigail possessed was something I could never emulate, shaped as I was by years of discipline and propriety. She had a tattoo curling elegantly along the side of her neck, her sunglasses perched atop her head, and her loose curls cascading over her shoulders.

"Lily, long time no see," she greeted me, her voice familiar but carrying an undertone of weariness.

It struck me as strange—this version of Abigail seemed so different from the confident, untouchable figure in my memories.

She asked politely if she could come in, and I, somewhat stunned by her sudden appearance, stepped aside to let her enter.

As she walked in, Abigail accidentally bumped into a decorative bear adorned with a wedding bow tie, sending it tumbling to the ground. She crouched down, picked it up, and handed it back to me with a faint smile.

"I forgot to congratulate you," she said. "I wish you and Daniel a happy wedding."

Her words were cordial, yet they carried a weight I couldn’t quite decipher.

I simply nodded in response, unsure of what else to say.

Abigail wandered around the living room, her gaze sweeping over the sparse decor. The house was unnervingly empty—most of my belongings had already been shipped back to my parents' home. All that remained were items belonging to Daniel or shared mementos I couldn’t bear to sort through.

Daniel, too, noticed the change.

"Lily," he asked, puzzled, "why does the house feel so empty?"

"I’ve been organizing and clearing out some things," I said casually, brushing off his concern with a vague excuse.

Abigail sat down and removed her sunglasses, revealing bruised eye sockets and faint scars etched across her face.

At that moment, I understood why she seemed so different. The unshakable confidence she once had was now dulled, replaced by visible signs of hardship.

"As you can see," Abigail began, her voice soft but steady, "I'm not doing well."

She explained that her years abroad had not unfolded as she had imagined. The man she referred to as her husband had never intended to marry her. For him, she had merely been a fleeting distraction.

She had been trapped abroad, battling severe depression, unable to return. It wasn't until she reached out to Daniel that things began to change.

"Thanks to Daniel’s help over the years, I never lost myself there," she said quietly.

When Daniel heard this, his nerves were palpable. I could tell what was making him anxious. It wasn't just that they hadn't spoken recently—it was that they'd been in contact all along, over the years.

"Daniel spends a month with me every year, at the end of the year. Without him, I wouldn't have made it through," she added.

It all suddenly made sense—Daniel had always told me he was going on a business trip for a month at the end of each year. But it wasn’t a business trip. He had been going to see Abigail.

She continued, "When Daniel started his business, I heard you sold your dowry to give him the startup capital."

"I was in trouble at the time too," she explained, her voice tinged with a hint of regret. "So, Daniel sent me $100,000 to help."

That explained it—the missing $100,000 from his company’s accounts. It was never just a financial discrepancy. It was a hidden part of Daniel’s life with Abigail that I had never known.