Margaret's mother was in critical condition, and the doctors had said a kidney transplant needed to happen as soon as possible.

The news Gavin brought her was still bad. "I've checked with several major hospitals, but no luck."

He pressed his fingers to his forehead, a deep frown marking his face. "Let's wait a little longer, see if things change."

Margaret lifted her gaze, meeting Gavin's eyes—and in that moment, without thinking, she asked, "Did you really try looking?"

Gavin froze, his pupils darkening in an instant. Then he gave a dry laugh. "What, you think I haven't tried? Why else do you think I was out of the country for over a month?"

He looked so calm, as if everything were just fine.

But Margaret knew better.

She knew the real reason he had gone overseas. It wasn't for her mother. It was because a genius psychiatrist had recently emerged in Chesterio, and the internet had been buzzing about him. Gavin, who had never given up on Marjorie, had taken her there as soon as possible.

Margaret's heart grew cold. She couldn't stop herself from thinking back on all the times Gavin had used the same excuses to deceive her.

A sharp pain twisted in her stomach, and her face grew pale as she leaned back, forcing a half-smile. "You were gone for over a month. Didn't you think to bring me a gift, or something?"

If he wanted to play pretend, she'd play along. After all, it was only a matter of days now.

Gavin paused, then gently took her hand. "It's in the car."

His brow furrowed slightly when he noticed how pale her face had become, and for a moment, there was a flash of genuine concern in his eyes. "You haven't eaten today?"

"Nope." Margaret lowered her eyes. "I've been running tests with my mom since early this morning. I didn't have time."

Before she could say anything more, Gavin's phone suddenly rang, its ringtone sharp and urgent.

Margaret quickly glanced at the screen.

The image that flashed by was a pearl emoji.

Margaret had never been the type to snoop through someone's phone, but now, she felt a twinge of foolishness for only noticing the contact name at that moment.

Gavin quickly turned away and walked toward the balcony. He answered the phone with a few quick words, then, in a hurry, left the room.

"I'll go grab some chicken soup and bring the gift up," he said, his voice casual.

Margaret leaned back in the cold chair, counting down in her mind.

Ten minutes? Twenty minutes? How long would it take him to return?

The pain in her stomach worsened, and sweat broke out across her forehead. Still, she couldn't stop herself from leaning toward the window, peering down below.

She waited for what felt like an eternity.

But no matter how long she waited, Gavin never came back.

He hadn't planned on returning at all.

A knock on the door startled her. A moment later, the assistant walked in, holding a bowl of chicken soup in one hand and a bottle of Burberry perfume in the other.

"Ms. Chapman," the assistant said softly, "Mr. Hartley had to attend an urgent meeting and couldn't make it up."

He handed her the perfume. "This is the gift he got for you."

Margaret stared blankly at the bottle, a soft "Thanks" slipping from her lips as she took it from him.

Suddenly, she stood up, pushing past the assistant and rushing toward the stairs.

Margaret saw her again.

Marjorie.

She lived in a villa on the south side of the city, a place isolated from the world. Apart from the few people who took care of her and Gavin, no one ever came by.

But Margaret had been here before. She had studied the villa completely.

She knew where people could be concealed.

Marjorie looked surprisingly well, wearing a long white dress and draped in Gavin's coat.

Margaret felt like a thief.

She had rushed out in such a hurry earlier, running so fast that she lost one of her shoes. Now, barefoot, she stood in the muddy earth, feeling the cold sting of dirt and the tiny crawl of ants against the soles of her feet.

But she wasn't frightened. She was numb, standing still as she watched Gavin and Marjorie's happiness unfold.

Marjorie was barefoot too, but she had her feet resting on Gavin's legs, her pale toes curling up.

She smiled brightly and asked, "Gavin, where's the gift you promised me?"

Gavin pulled out a Burberry handbag.

"Here you go. Do you like it?" Gavin asked softly, running his fingers through her hair.

Marjorie eagerly took the bag, inspecting it, then pouted. "You didn't buy me a fake one, did you? This bag comes with a free perfume! Where is it?"

Margaret froze. She suddenly realized—Gavin hadn't brought her any gift at all.

That bottle of perfume? It was the freebie from Marjorie's gift.

Gavin paused, then shrugged. "I figured it wasn't worth anything, so I tossed it in the trash."

The sharp pain in Margaret's stomach grew, and she slowly sank to her knees. Beads of sweat trickled down her face as her vision blurred.

She had promised herself she wouldn't cry…

But here she was, unable to help herself.

She wiped away the tears that had fallen from her eyes, her body trembling.

The man she thought would always protect her, the one she believed only cared for her… He'd only ever seen her as a trash bin.

Margaret had thought she would be above it, that she could handle the heartbreak with grace. But she was wrong.

Once you've loved with everything you've got, you can't just let go like it's nothing.

And that was why Gavin couldn't just let go of Marjorie.

He had protected her for so many years, kept her within his sights, held on stubbornly.

Marjorie took the bag from Gavin, excitedly slinging it over her shoulder.

"You're the best, Gavin," she beamed. "You always remember what I like. Do you remember when we got engaged? You had yellow roses, and I was carrying my Burberry bag. And you also gave me…

"No, wait…" Marjorie's voice suddenly faltered, and her eyes filled with panic. "You didn't propose to me, did you? Gavin, why haven't you proposed to me? Don't you love me anymore?

"Gavin, we're not married yet, are we?"

Marjorie dropped to the floor suddenly, screaming as she struggled to get up.

Gavin rushed to pull her into his arms, but she slapped him several times in a frenzy.

"Why won't you marry her?!" Marjorie screamed, throwing a picture frame to the ground with a crash.

In an instant, shards of glass flew across the room, cutting Gavin's arms in several places.

A photo, spinning wildly, floated out from the wreckage of the frame.

Margaret could see it clearly.

It was a photo of her and Gavin, taken the first time she had appeared in public as his fiancée.

That day, she had been wearing a Burberry crossbody bag.

"Shh, it's okay." Gavin reached for her, letting Marjorie bite down on his arm, nearly tearing a chunk of flesh from him. "Calm down. I promised you I'd marry her, so I will…"

Margaret couldn't bear to watch any longer.

She turned and fled, almost stumbling in her rush to leave.

Barefoot, she walked over the cold concrete, the night stretching endlessly into the early morning.

And no one even noticed.

Margaret kept walking until noon the next day.

She had wandered in a daze, and when she saw the villa, it felt like she was in a different world.

Her feet were so sore and raw that she could hardly feel them anymore. She furrowed her brow, took a deep breath, and barely managed to calm herself down.

But when she pushed open the door, it slammed shut with a loud bang, as if something had exploded around her.

As she looked around, she saw colorful streamers hanging everywhere.

Nearby, someone was filming, and it looked like they were livestreaming the event.

Soon, a crowd of onlookers gathered, their faces full of envy as they gossiped excitedly.

"I heard Mr. Hartley has been planning this proposal for a long time!"

"Margaret must be the luckiest woman in the world to be with Mr. Hartley! I'm envious!"

Margaret stared at Gavin as he made his way through the crowd. It took a moment, but then it hit her—Gavin was going to propose to her.

The streamers, the balloons, the flowers, the gifts.

And all the friends and family they knew.

If she hadn't just come from Marjorie's place, Margaret would have been swept up in the fantasy once again.

She was pushed by the crowd into the center of the room.

The pain in her feet was like needles stabbing through her entire body. Yet not a single person noticed she was barefoot.

Her feet were bruised and bloodied. But all eyes were on Gavin's romantic proposal.

Someone handed Margaret a bag—a Burberry bag.

Gavin made his way through the crowd, holding a bouquet of yellow roses.

Margaret remembered telling him once that she only liked red roses—vivid, bold, and free-spirited.

Yellow roses, though, were Marjorie's favorite.

In that moment, Margaret realized the truth.

She understood now why Gavin loved Marjorie so much, and yet chose her as a stand-in.

She was a replacement in Marjorie's eyes. Marjorie had transferred all of her hopes for happiness onto Margaret.

It wasn't that Gavin needed her—Marjorie did.

So now, she was playing along with Gavin's charade, fulfilling Marjorie's fantasies.

Margaret couldn't stop herself from letting out a small, hollow laugh.

To everyone else, it looked like she was overwhelmed with happiness. But to her, all the cheers and shouts felt like they were coming from another world. None of it was hers.

Gavin kneeled in front of her, his eyes full of passion. "Maggie, will you marry me?"

Margaret looked down at him, her voice soft but sharp. "Gavin, are you sure you want to marry me?"

Gavin's brow furrowed slightly. He sensed something wasn't right.

After all, this was the second time in two days that Margaret had spoken to him with such doubt.

A nervous flutter ran through him as he tightened his grip on the yellow roses, lowering his voice. "Margaret, why would you ask that?"

He almost stood up in his haste, grabbing her hand, and began to explain.

"Are you mad at me for not being with you last night? There were some important matters I had to take care of. I didn't mean to stay out. Don't be upset, okay?"

The great Gavin Hartley, pleading like this in front of so many people.

Anyone who saw it would have to admit, he was truly a man in love.

So, naturally, everyone around them supported him, isolating Margaret.

"Ms. Chapman, stop being so difficult. Mr. Hartley had urgent matters to attend to. You can't just use his love for you as an excuse to act spoiled, can you?"

"Yeah, Gavin's the most eligible bachelor in our town. You should count your blessings!"

"You wouldn't believe what kind of engagement gift he has prepared for you!"

Someone squeezed through the crowd, holding up an iPad.

On the screen, a shining star was spinning slowly.

The corner of the screen read that it was a satellite software.

Gavin spoke softly, "Maggie, this is the engagement gift I got for you. Will you marry me?"

Margaret stared at the screen, the noise of the crowd fading in and out.

"Is that… a little asteroid?"

"It's a little asteroid! And Mr. Hartley even named it 'Maggie', a symbol of how much he treasures Margaret. I swear, if I could meet a man like Mr. Hartley in my life, I'd give up ten years of my life just to be with him!"

-

They all cheered and laughed.

Margaret smiled, too.

She lightly tapped the iPad screen, her thoughts circling around the name "Maggie".

This wasn't about Margaret.

It was about his one true love—Marjorie.

Margaret felt the wetness of tears on her cheeks.

They all thought she was moved to tears.

And she was. She was deeply moved.

She was moved by the fact that her fiancé loved another woman this much.