Grayson Harmon's childhood friend, Sophia Lexton, got into a car accident. She didn't just lose her memory—she came away with some post-traumatic stress disorder, too. That's what the doctors called it.

They said we had to keep her calm, avoid anything that might upset her. So, for the sake of her recovery, Grayson asked me not to argue with her. To let her have her way, no matter what.

She took my engagement necklace and moved into the little love nest Grayson and I had made our own.

And on our wedding day, she threatened to kill herself, forcing Grayson to take her to the hospital.

He looked at her bleeding out and said to me, calm as ever, "Brianna, I'll make it up to you after the wedding. I'll throw you an even grander one. Sophia is dying."

Then he picked her up and walked away, never once looking back.

If he had—just once—he might have seen something was wrong.

He might have seen the blood soaking into my wedding dress.

Today was supposed to be my wedding day with Grayson Harmon. But the moment I opened my eyes that morning, my heart wouldn't stop racing. I couldn't explain it, just had a sinking feeling something was going to go wrong.

And sure enough, it did—right as we stepped onto the stage.

Sophia Lexton showed up.

She stood there, holding a scalpel. A real surgical scalpel. Sharp enough to slice skin clean.

Her hand shook as she held it to her own neck, crying like her world was ending.

"Grayson," she screamed, "why did you lie to me? You swore—you said it'd be you and me, forever! It's me and you who are meant to be! How could you not marry me? I'm the only one who should be standing here as your bride. Who is she, anyway?"

It was always like this. Anyone with half a brain could see through her act. But Grayson never could. He always fell for it. Always ended up letting her take him away.

One blind. One heartless.

And this time, he was already giving in again.

He stepped toward her, his voice soft in a way I'd never heard before, trying to calm her down. That look on his face—it tore something in my chest.

The guests had started whispering now, murmurs moving through the crowd like smoke.

I stood frozen, watching the man I loved hold another woman in his arms, feeling my heart drop to the bottom of the earth.

But Sophia wasn't finished. She raised the scalpel again, ready to slash.

Grayson closed his eyes, thinking for a second, then looked at me. "Brianna, we'll have to call off the wedding—for now. I'm taking Sophia to the hospital. Once she's discharged, I'll give you an even grander ceremony."

I looked at the man I'd loved for five years. "Grayson, if you walk away today, what am I supposed to do? I'll be the laughingstock of all of Panembria. How am I supposed to face anyone? If she's in danger, someone else can take her to the hospital. The doctors will do their job. You're not a doctor. Today is our wedding—are you really going to leave me here, alone?"

His eyes darkened, the warmth gone. Just frustration now.

"Brianna, what's more important—her life, or your pride? You never used to be like this. When did you become so unreasonable?"

"Unreasonable?" I laughed helplessly. "If I were really unreasonable, I wouldn't have tolerated everything until today. Grayson, even the most patient person has a breaking point."

Something in my voice must've gotten through—he hesitated. He looked at me, like he finally saw something wasn't right.

But Sophia made her move. She drove the scalpel into her neck.

"Grayson, why are you abandoning me? Is it because of that woman? You told me—she drugged you, forced you to be with her! Brianna, you shameless woman—why did you seduce him? Why? He loves me, he always has!"

Blood spilled from her pale neck, staining the white collar of her shirt. And just like that, Grayson's expression turned cold again.

I said quietly, "Grayson, I already called for an ambulance. The paramedics are on their way. If you're worried about her, you can see her after the wedding."

When she heard I'd called for an ambulance, Sophia cried even harder. "Grayson, I'm not going to the hospital alone. I'm scared. I don't want to go by myself. If you make me go alone, I'd rather die. I won't ride in an ambulance—I can't. I'm scared. Owen died in an ambulance after the car crash. That feeling—it terrifies me. I won't go. I won't."

"Alright, alright," Grayson said quickly. "You won't. I'll take you myself. I'll stay with you. No wedding today, okay? Just listen to me." He tore off his tie and began wrapping the wound on her neck, then lifted her into his arms.

He started walking away with her.

"No. You're not going anywhere." I stepped in front of him, giving both of us one last chance.

"Brianna, stop it. Move aside. This is about saving a life—do you want her to die?"

"Grayson, if you walk out that door today, it's over between us."

"Brianna, don't be ridiculous. We can have a wedding anytime. But Sophia only has one life."

"So that's your choice—you're really going to leave me here alone to clean up this mess?"

"Grayson... Grayson... I... I..." Sophia clutched her chest, moaning in pain.

"Move!" Grayson shoved me aside and walked out with her in his arms.

I fell to the ground, hitting my lower abdomen hard on the floor.

Clutching my stomach, I called out his name. But he didn't look back. Not even once.

In that moment, I knew—whatever we had was truly over.

The wedding, of course, was ruined after everything Sophia had pulled. The ambulance I'd called for her ended up taking me away instead. Blood had soaked through the lower half of my wedding gown, staining it crimson.

A few familiar faces from the wedding came along, worried for me.

At the hospital, the doctor came in with a grim look. My baby was gone. The bleeding was severe, and my life was in danger. I needed surgery. A family member had to sign the consent form.

But in all of Panembria, I had no one. No family. Just Grayson.

Out of options, I asked the doctor to call him. Again. And again. But no one ever picked up.

Left with nothing else, I sent him a text—one last attempt. I asked him to come to the hospital and sign the form. I told him I wouldn't bother him again. I begged him to help me this once. To save my life.

This time, he replied quickly.

But his words hit me like ice water down my spine: [What, you've got depression now too? If you want to die, then die. I don't care. You're impossible.]

I stared at that message, numb. Something in me cracked. Or maybe it just went quiet.

That was the moment I understood: some people, some things... they're not worth holding on to.

All my expectations, all the dependence I'd built up, collapsed in that second.

We all had to live with our mistakes.

So, I signed the form myself. And went into surgery alone.

Three days later, I was discharged.

When I walked into the apartment, it was exactly how we'd left it on the wedding day. Even the half-eaten bag of spicy chips I'd opened that morning was still sitting on the coffee table.

Clearly, Grayson hadn't come back once. He'd been at the hospital, playing the dutiful companion to his precious childhood sweetheart.

That afternoon, he finally walked in. When he saw me there, he visibly exhaled in relief—then returned to his usual cold self.

"I'm hungry. Make me a sandwich. And coffee too. I'll rest a bit before I head back to the hospital."

I was sitting on the couch, motionless. He didn't realize I'd just sat down from exhaustion after packing my things.

When I didn't move, his tone sharpened. "Brianna, what's your problem? I told you—I'll give you a proper wedding. Isn't that enough for you? How long are you going to keep acting out?"

In Grayson's memory, whenever he said he was tired, I'd run to him without hesitation—massaging his shoulders, rubbing his legs. Maybe it was that same blind devotion, that "good wife" image, that made him think he could do whatever he pleased.

"Grayson, what I said at the wedding wasn't a joke. Let's set a time to get the papers." I meant divorce papers.

He'd dragged me to get the marriage license as soon as he learned I was pregnant. But these past few days, I've had time to think things through. I don't want to keep dragging out this love triangle. I'm done being entangled with either of them.

His hand shook as he lit a cigarette. "Brianna, what now? You're starting with me too? I'm already exhausted dealing with Sophia. Can't you just be a little more reasonable? Try to understand me for once? I didn't want things to happen that way either, but I couldn't just watch her die. You're always so understanding. You get it, don't you?"

He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world—like it was my fault. Like he was the one abandoned at the altar, not me.

I stared at that handsome face. It was that very face that once blinded me, made me do pathetic things. But that was over now.

"Watch her die? Grayson, is your brain made of mush? Think about it—how many times has she 'tried' to kill herself? Has she ever really died?"

Grayson smoked furiously, saying nothing.

"If you really wanted what's best for her, you'd take her to a hospital. If they can't treat her here, send her abroad. As long as it's not terminal, there's always hope for treatment."

"But she's afraid of hospitals. The doctors said as long as we don't trigger her, she'll gradually get better. Brianna, let's just hang on a little longer. Things will get better."

I laughed bitterly. "And what if she never gets better? Are we just never getting married? Maybe you're willing to wait your whole life, but I'm not. I don't have that kind of time to waste on you two."

If Sophia ever truly wanted to die, really meant it, maybe I'd respect her for it. But she never did. She knew exactly how much medication to take, just enough to get her rushed to the ER, never enough to actually die.

Six months ago, she was in a car crash. When she woke up, she claimed to remember nothing—except Grayson. She told everyone she was his fiancée, and that I was the other woman, the one intruding on their love.

I argued with Grayson. And what did he say?

He said that as long as he believed me, that was enough. Sophia was ill, and we shouldn't upset her. Once she recovered, he'd go public with our relationship and explain everything.

And so she moved in with us. On our anniversary, she faked a suicide attempt. On Valentine's Day, she forbade Grayson from celebrating with me. He bought me a bracelet—she took it, saying he'd betrayed her by "cheating."

When others told her I was his real girlfriend, not her, she said I'd bribed them to lie. In the end, she climbed to the rooftop and shouted that Grayson was a heartless bastard, and she didn't want to live anymore.

Grayson had no choice but to give her the bracelet he bought me. He even took her to a hotel that night—to "comfort" her.

I spent that night alone, staring at the ceiling.

At first, Grayson would still explain things. He even felt a little guilty. The next day, after sending Sophia off, he secretly bought me a necklace.

He said, "Brianna, you're such a kind, understanding girl. You wouldn't get upset over something like this, right?"

One year. The doctors said her condition would improve in a year. After that, she'd leave, and we could finally have our life together.

I believed him. I believed in us.

I even promised him I'd treat Sophia like a younger sister.