Spencer's voice still came through from the other end of the line.

"Tell you what—come over to my place first thing tomorrow morning, and we'll sit down and really hammer out the wedding plans…"

"We'll see. I'm exhausted today. I want to turn in early."

With that, I hung up.

The next day, I had no intention of taking time off. I headed to the office like I always did.

But at the foot of the building, Spencer's car cut me off.

He gave two short honks and rolled down the window.

"Get in. I already called you in sick."

I froze, my brow knitting tight. "I never asked for the day off. Why would you go and decide that for me?"

"Oh, come on. It's just a job."

Smiling, Spencer pushed the door open and gently steered me into the car.

"I've told you before—once we're married, you'll be Mrs. Stephens, without a care in the world."

"The Stephens family will provide for you. My wife has no business out there working, parading herself in public."

Something bitter churned in my chest.

"So because I'm marrying you, I don't even get the right to hold a job?"

Spencer didn't answer. He just lowered his head, pulled out an alcohol wipe, and scrubbed his hand. Carefully.

Scrubbing, meticulously, at the spot where his hand had just touched me.

Six years together. I'd long since gotten used to Spencer's severe germ phobia.

But in that moment, the sight still stung my eyes.

My nose prickled.

I asked, "Spencer, am I that filthy?"

Spencer paused, then lifted his gaze to me, startled.

"Deborah, why would you ask that?"

I drew in a deep breath. I wanted so badly to demand it of him out loud—why one touch from me meant disinfecting himself over and over.

It was always like this. After kissing me, he had to rinse his mouth.

After holding me, he had to shower.

Even after just holding my hand, he'd wipe himself down again and again with alcohol wipes.

Why couldn't I touch his spoon, couldn't touch his things?

While Irma could use his spoon, could share a single bowl of ice cream with him.

But looking at his blank, helpless eyes, I let out a wry little laugh and swallowed the words back down.

"It's nothing. Let's go."

When we reached the Stephens house, his parents were already seated in the living room, waiting.

Hearing me come in, Aaron Stephens silently took a sip of his tea, and Andrea rolled her eyes.

I steeled myself and stepped forward to greet them.

"Mr. Stephens, Mrs. Stephens, these are some homemade gifts I brought for you…"

"Don't bother. The Stephens family wants for nothing. Take it back."

Andrea spoke from on high.

"Deborah, if my son insists on marrying you, then you'd better learn how to be a proper Mrs. Stephens. Don't be so penny-pinching."

A wave of humiliation washed over me, and I bowed my head.

Because my family came from the countryside, the gap in our backgrounds was vast.

Spencer's parents didn't like me.

It was only because Spencer had dated me for six years, swearing he'd marry no one else, that they'd grudgingly agreed to the match.

I'd thought they had accepted me—yet still, in a thousand small ways, they found new ways to shame me.

"Mom!"

Spencer stepped in to rescue me. "It's still a token of Deborah's goodwill. Just take it."

Andrea gave a cold snort and tossed the gifts to the housekeeper without a second glance.

"Well, since you're both here, let's get on with discussing the wedding."

I breathed a little easier and sat down, just reaching for the wedding proposal on the table.

Then, out of nowhere, a crisp girl's voice rang out behind me.

"Mr. and Mrs. Stephens, look—do I look good in this wedding dress?"

I went still.

Why was Irma here again?

Everyone turned to look.

Aaron nodded with a smile. "Irma's really grown into a fine young woman."

Even Andrea Stephens, who rarely smiled, let one slip now. "Stunning. That gown might as well have been made for you."

Her eyes flicked toward Spencer, knowing and sly. "Don't tell me my son gave it to you as a gift?"

Basking in everyone's praise, Irma Fox spun in a delighted little circle.

"Spencer, your parents think it looks beautiful. What do you think?"

Spencer nodded, indulgent.

"It does look good."

Irma's chin lifted in triumph, and she shot me a smug little smile.

But my gaze drifted slowly down to that gown, and the blood drained from my face.

"Spencer, is that the gown I picked out for my own wedding?"

"Yes."

He said it like it was nothing.

"She's a young girl, hasn't seen much of the world. She was just curious, only trying it on. It's no big deal."

Irma planted her hands on her hips and huffed.

"Spencer, who exactly hasn't seen much of the world?"

"You, obviously."

He laughed softly and pinched her puffed-up cheek.

"Aaagh! Mr. and Mrs. Stephens, your son is picking on me! I demand a rematch!"

The two of them pretended to scuffle, carrying on like a pair of bickering children.

Irma seized the chance to loop her arms around Spencer's neck and wrenched at his head.

Spencer just smiled through all of it, doting, even reaching out to steady her waist.

Afraid she might fall.

"Slow down, you little maniac."

I watched the whole thing, stunned.

With me, Spencer had always been mature, composed, never once letting this childish side show.

He never roughhoused with me like this.

Because the more he touched me, the more elaborate the disinfecting ritual he'd have to perform afterward.

Yet with Irma, somehow, the rules didn't apply.

"This gown's in the way. Let me get it off and then I'll really take you down."

Having lost the arm-wrestling match, Irma peeled the wedding gown off her body and tossed it carelessly to the side.

That gown had taken me two months of careful searching to find.

I'd wanted to marry Spencer in it, dressed in my finest.

But now the gown was soiled.

And my love had long since been torn to shreds, beyond saving.

Seeing my eyes fixed on the rumpled gown crumpled on the floor, my face dark, Andrea sneered, dripping with mockery.

"Spencer, didn't I tell you? Girls who come up from the country are always making trouble."

"One ratty gown, and she has to put on a face over it."

I forced the tears back and set down the wedding plans in my hand.

"I have things to do. I'll be going now."

"Deborah!"

I'd barely stepped through the front doors when Spencer came chasing after me, calling my name.

"What's gotten into you this time?"

He caught my wrist, baffled.

"We agreed to discuss the wedding today. We haven't even started, and you're already throwing a fit and storming off. How does that look?"

"It wasn't easy getting my parents to agree to this marriage. They set aside important matters just to wait for you to show up."

"Deborah Butler, even tantrums have a limit."

"No one is going to keep indulging your spoiled-princess temper, over and over again!"

Looking at his irritated face, I let out one cold laugh after another.

"Then tell me. Why is my wedding gown on Irma's body?"

"Why is it that every single time we sit down to discuss the wedding, Irma shows up to wreck it?"

"You think I'm the one being unreasonable? Spencer, you saw how your family treated me back there. If you also think this marriage is too much of a stretch, then maybe we should just call it off."

Spencer's brows knit tight.

"Didn't I just step in and smooth things over for you back there?"

“Deborah, I've told you my parents have their reservations about where you come from. But I've worked hard to get them to accept you. We're about to get married. What more do you want?”

“And what about Irma?”

I stared at his hand with open contempt. “Every time you touch me, you have to scrub yourself down with alcohol wipes. Over and over.”

“So why not when you touch Irma?”

Just now, in front of everyone, the two of them had chased and tussled and laughed together.

Their faces nearly pressed against each other.

And not once did Spencer's germ phobia so much as flicker.

His expression darkened, his brows knotting tighter and tighter.

“Deborah, I think I've explained this to you more times than I can count.”

“Irma's mother was my mom's best friend. She died young, and afterward Irma's stepmother treated her cruelly.”

“My mom couldn't stand to watch it, so she kept bringing Irma to our house.”

“You could say she grew up under our roof. She's no different from my own sister.”

So she could lounge on Spencer's bed in nothing but shorts.

But his bed? I wasn't even allowed to sit on it.

He couldn't stand the thought of my outdoor clothes soiling his sheets.

Even the chairs in the house had to be disinfected the moment I got up.

Watching my face tighten with humiliation, he hesitated, then forced the words out. ：

“Deborah, I'm not doing it on purpose. I just have a severe phobia of germs.”

But Irma was different.

On Spencer's turf, she could do whatever she pleased.

“Irma and I go back to childhood. She's used to being around me, so the phobia doesn't kick in.”

Now, listening to Spencer fumble through his excuses,

I felt something loosen, and a faint smile crossed my lips.

“Right. The two of you are the real family. I'm the outsider who could never fit in.”

And I didn't want to fit in anymore.

When he saw me turn to leave, panic flashed across his face. He caught me from behind, wrapping his arms around me.

“That's not what I meant.”

“Deborah, you've been running yourself ragged lately, haven't you? Rest first. Once you've settled down, there's plenty of time to sort out the wedding.”

I was about to tell him I was perfectly settled, that I'd thought it through and wanted to break up.

“Spencer, come here a second!”

Andrea's voice cut in at just that moment.

“Coming!” Spencer frowned. “Deborah, I'll have the driver take you home.”

“Don't bother. I'll grab a cab.”

As I turned to go, Irma deliberately brushed past me, throwing me a taunting look.

“Deborah Butler, don't think being Spencer's girlfriend makes you anything special.”

“Mrs. Stephens has her heart set on me as her future daughter-in-law. You? You haven't even passed the test.”

“I'll be honest with you. I have feelings for Spencer too.”

“So I won't be letting him marry you that easily.”

“In the end, whoever gets to be Mrs. Stephens, well, may the best woman win.”

I answered calmly. “Sorry. I have no interest in fighting you for him.”

With that, I shouldered past her and walked away.

Over the next three days, I took on a business trip the company had asked me to handle.

Three days of running myself off my feet. I came back so exhausted that I slept like the dead.

When I woke, a message from Spencer was waiting on my phone.

“The wedding plan's been chosen.”

“The wedding's set for two weeks from now. Remember to let your relatives back home know to come.”

I bolted upright, completely lost.

“Which plan did you choose?”

“Spencer, you didn't talk to me about any of it. The plan, the date, you just decided everything on your own?”

There was a pause on his end.

“These six wedding plans, weren't they the ones you put together in the first place?”