I have to go to the police station to bail two people out at 2:00 am.

The young woman this time is different compared to the others in the past. She keeps her head hung and is as docile as a rabbit.

Melvin Norton, my boyfriend, says with a smile, "I've just won her heart over. This is your junior colleague, Stacy Decker.

"I joked about wanting to try having car sex with her. She dared not do that, so she grabbed the steering wheel from me. That's how we ended up crashing into the greenbelt."

Stacy raises her head to glare at Melvin with red-rimmed eyes. But that's when the hickey on her neck is revealed.

I just nod with a blank expression. Then, I begin the procedures fluently.

The police officer in charge of the fine is already used to seeing me at this point. He asks casually, "How many times have you done this so far?"

I'm temporarily taken aback by the question, resulting in me pausing in my actions.

Last year, Melvin had cheated on me with a saleswoman. The year before, it was a nurse. The year before that year was the gym trainer…

Suddenly, I lose all interest in this stupid game.

"This is the ninth and the final time."

Jocelyn's POV

It was 2:00 am when we finally left the police station.

Melvin Norton walked ahead, his arm slung around Stacy Decker's waist. I walked behind them, rain streaming down my pants.

Stacy was basically clinging to him like a koala, her chin resting on his shoulder.

"Melvie… Did you know how fiercely that officer was glaring at me just now?"

Melvin pinched her on her cheek and chuckled. "Who told you to grab the steering wheel, you little minx?"

She then cocked her head and looked coquettishly at him with her big doe eyes, showing off the bright red-and-purple hickey on her neck. Melvin glanced back at me, not in guilt, but to gloat.

This was the ninth time.

Every woman he went out with would always look at me smugly that way whenever they got "caught", as if to tell me that I'd lost.

It took a long time for us to finally hail a cab. I pulled open the backseat door. However, Melvin shoved me aside and pushed Stacy into the door instead.

"I'm sending her back home first, Jocelyn. She got a huge fright."

Stacy stuck her head out of the window and called out to me. "Wanna hitch a ride home with us, Joyce?"

Melvin frowned and said, "Forget about it. She's just a killjoy."

They shut the door in my face and left, the taillight of the cab disappearing in the rainy night while I was left behind on the sidewalk, completely drenched in the rain.

My phone buzzed just then. It was a notification from the hospital, informing us of our shift schedules.

I stared at the screen and suddenly felt exhausted. It wasn't from having to work overtime, but rather, it was the kind of exhaustion that had long seeped into my bones from a while ago.

I scrolled down my contacts and finally dialed a number that I hadn't called in three years.

"Dad, does what you said about that guy from three years ago still count?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

"You mean the one from the Vaughan family?"

"Yeah. I'll marry him," I said.

The rain intensified. Dad didn't press for more information and simply said that it was good that I was coming back.

It wasn't for another 40 minutes that I finally managed to flag down another cab, and it was 3:00 am by the time I got back to the apartment.

I turned the key in the door, but it wouldn't open. As it turned out, it was bolted from the inside.

After rapping on the door for about a dozen times, the bolt was finally slid back, and the door was opened by a crack.

Melvin appeared in his underwear, his neck boasting fresh new hickeys that exactly matched the ones on Stacy's neck.

"What are you doing back here, Jocelyn Bloomberg?"

Stacy's voice could be heard from the bedroom. "Melvie… It's so cold here… Come back…"

Melvin told me in a low voice, "Go spend the night at a hotel." He then produced a 50-dollar bill and stuffed it into my palm.

50 dollars.

Just a couple of hours ago, he'd treated Stacy to a fine-dining dinner that cost 300 dollars per head. And now, he was telling me to find a hotel room for 50 dollars for the night.

The door then slammed shut in my face, and I heard it being locked and bolted again from the inside.

The lights in the corridor were out. I stood in the darkness, holding the bill in my hand, letting the rainwater soak into the paper.

My phone lit up then. It was a text message from Dad.

"Adrian Vaughan said the date would be set on the same day as it was three years ago. He hasn't made any changes."

I'd run away from the wedding three years ago, leaving Adrian at the altar waiting all day for me to appear.

I stuffed the 50-dollar bill back into the door crevice and texted Dad a reply.

"Okay."

The next day, I returned to the apartment after work. I found a note on the coffee table with a pink rabbit drawn on it in pink highlighter. Stacy's handwriting was on the note.

It read, "Hey Joyce, Melvie said that he's taking me to look at apartments this weekend to be our marital home. We're going to Orville Towers. Wanna tag along?"

Orville Towers was a luxury high-rise development that Dad built.

When Melvin told me he wanted to buy an apartment there, I said I knew someone and offered him a 30,000-dollar discount. He asked me who I knew, and I just said that it was a friend. He never pressed for more information after that and simply continued gaming.

I crumpled up the notepaper and threw it into the trash. However, when I popped the lid open, I saw some things lying inside.

There were three used condoms in it, the specialty minty kind that cost a small fortune.

In the past three years I'd been with Melvin, we never bought condoms that cost more than 12 dollars. I once bought a slightly more expensive one, but he chided me for wasting money instead.

I went to the bathroom to wash my hands. While scrolling idly on Instagram, I suddenly came across a photo Stacy posted of her in the sales office at Orville Towers, holding up a purchase contract and revealing a corner of Melvin's name on it.

There was also a new, brightly dazzling diamond ring on her ring finger in the photo.

My hands began trembling again, but it wasn't because I was upset. Rather, it was a habit of mine. I would always tremble like this whenever I got extremely angry.

I pumped more liquid soap onto my palm and scrubbed my hands thoroughly. It wasn't until the fifth time I scrubbed them that my hands finally stopped trembling.

I pushed the bathroom door open and suddenly caught sight of Stacy in the living room. I didn't know when or how she got there, but she was sitting cross-legged on the couch with a notebook in her lap.

It was my diary.

The one that I hid away in the depths of my wardrobe drawers and padlocked with a lock.

But now, the lock was picked and lying askew on the couch with white scratches on its surface.

Stacy then looked up at me, smiling widely and said, "Your handwriting is really neat, Joyce."

Then, she flipped to a page and began reading out loud.

"February 14th. Melvin's out on a business trip again, so I'm spending Valentine's Day by myself again. It's fine. I understand that he's busy."

She purposely slowed down when she read the part "by myself again", then looked back up at me with a grin. "You're such a kind and considerate person, Joyce!"

Then, she flipped to another page and continued reading. "March 15th. I edited three of his proposals and stayed up till 4:00 am today…

"Wow, can you help me with my proposals too, Joyce? Please? Melvie threatened to cut my bonus if I didn't improve…"

I snatched the diary back from her hands, the pages making a ruffling sound. After flipping through the diary, I noticed that she'd cat-eared a number of pages where I'd described how Melvin had treated me over the years.

So, she'd been going through every line I wrote and cat-earing the parts she found amusing like she was collecting a bunch of jokes where she could laugh at my expense again next time.

Melvin came out of the bedroom just then, glancing at the diary in my hand.

"Why were you going through her things?"

Stacy immediately threw herself at him and hooked arms with him. "It's not like that, Melvie. I was the one who wanted to read it. Joyce's handwriting is really neat and beautiful!"

Melvin didn't speak anymore and went back into the bedroom.

Stacy then retrieved her phone, tapped into the photo gallery, and showed me a few photos of her in a few different wedding dresses.

"Which one do you think looks the best on me, Joyce? The mermaid tail or the princess gown? Melvie said that the mermaid gown was better because it showed off my curves better…"

She kept glancing at me with every word she said, waiting for me to lose my cool, or break down in tears, or throw a temper tantrum.

"The mermaid tail, then," I replied.

She was stunned at my reply.

"You look nicer in the mermaid tail. You've got a slender waist."

She opened her mouth again like a goldfish, obviously not expecting this response from me. She just stood there with her phone in her hand, not knowing whether to continue staying with me in the living room or to leave.

Ultimately, she slinked back into the bedroom.

Melvin appeared in the living room again just then, his phone pressed against his ear. He was speaking in a low voice, but the apartment was very small, and I could hear everything he was saying.

"Yes, yes. The Four-Clover Hotel. I want a corner room with a view over the lake."

After hanging up, he turned to me and said, "Go buy me an LV bag. Should be around 10,000 dollars. It's for Stacy's birthday gift. I'll pay you back later."

I didn't say a word and just transferred the money to him.

He read the notification on his phone before sliding the phone back into his pocket without even a "thank you". He took a few more steps forward, paused, and looked at me like he wanted to say something. However, he ended up saying nothing and just left.

I could then hear his voice coming from the bedroom again, this time much louder than before. Maybe he was just too excited that he couldn't hold back anymore.

"Guess what, Stacy baby, I just booked a room for us at the Four-Clover Hotel! I've got another surprise for you too, but I'm not telling you yet!"

A surprise?

I was paying for it, but he turned it into a surprise for her.

…

I never went back on the day of Stacy's birthday. There was an emergency operation at the hospital, and I stood for the entire four hours.

After the surgery, I went to change out of my scrubs and scrolled a little on Instagram, noticing that Stacy had posted a whole carousel of photos on her account.

There was a photo of the 99 roses that filled up the entirety of Melvin's car trunk, a photo of the brand-new LV bag with the tags still on, a photo of the lake view from their Four-Closer Hotel room, and their reflection against the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The caption was simple. It read, "It's so nice to be chosen."

Someone in the comments asked, "What about Melvin's girlfriend? The one who'd been with him for years?"

Stacy replied immediately, "Joyce said that she wishes us the best and gives us all her blessings! She's really nice about it."

I never said anything to them. And I certainly never gave them any blessings of the sort.

I just placed my phone back in the locker as the bright fluorescent lights hummed above me.

On Thursday afternoon, I left work early to go home and pack up my things.

When I pushed open the apartment door, I saw someone standing in front of the full-length mirror in the living room.

It was Stacy, and she was wearing a wedding dress, but it wasn't hers. It was mine.

I had carefully kept that wedding dress folded at the bottom of my suitcase, wrapped in silk.

Mom loved to sew, and this was something she'd made for me on her sickbed, embroidering the fabric with my favorite cherry blossoms, stitch by stitch.

A week before she passed away, she held my hand and said, "Even if I'm not around when you get married, I'll still be there to witness it as long as you wear this."

It had been eight years since she passed, and I had never been able to wear it ever since.

But now, Stacy was wearing it, twirling in front of the mirror as the hem trailed on the floor, picking up a layer of dust.

"Your wedding dress is so beautiful, Joyce! You won't get angry at me for trying it on just this once, would you?"

She was smiling very sweetly at me as she caressed the embroidery on the dress like she was admiring a spoil she'd looted.

"Take it off."

"Why are you so petty, Joyce? It's not like I'm going to ruin it just by trying it on—"

"I said, take it off!"

I didn't shout at her. However, Stacy was stunned. She'd never seen me like this before.

Melvin immediately rushed out of the bedroom, shielding her behind him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Jocelyn? So what if she wanted to try on your dress? What's the big deal about it? Must you do this to her?"

Stacy hid behind him as fat tears splashed down her face. "Melvie… It's all my fault… Don't blame it on Joyce…"

"I need to discuss something with you," Melvin said, speaking to me as if he were just addressing a tenant in his apartment.

"I've already booked the apartment in Orville Towers. Stacy's side is paying the down payment for that, and this apartment lease is ending next month. You should move out next week."

He wasn't even looking at me when he said that, instead fetching some paper towels and dabbing the tears off Stacy's face the entire time.

He then got his phone and transferred 1,000 dollars to me.

"That's your compensation. It should be enough for you to rent a place for a month. We'll forget about everything else I owed you in the past."

Forget about it?

He was planning to wipe out all of the 70,000 dollars he owed me over the years?

I glanced at my phone transfer notification and transferred the money back to him.

He got the notification on his phone this time, and he was stunned. "You…"

"I don't want a single penny of your filthy money."

I then walked into the bedroom, crouched down, and picked up the badly trampled wedding dress on the floor, cradling the dress in my arms.

Then, I went back into the living room, took something out from the depths of my bag, and placed it on the coffee table.

It was a cream envelope with gold edges stamped around it, written in calligraphy that Dad penned himself.

Melvin was still engrossed with his phone, probably still trying to understand why I returned the money to him.

"What's that?"

"Open it," I said.

He tore open the envelope impatiently, muttering under his breath.

Then, he froze.

"The groom, Mr. Adrian Vaughan, and the bride, Ms. Jocelyn Bloomberg, cordially invite you to witness their matrimony…"

The date was set for next Saturday, and the venue was at the third-floor ballroom at Orville Towers.

Melvin's phone slid from his hand to the ground, the screen cracking right across Stacy's face on his wallpaper.

"Orville Towers? B-But that's where I…"

"That's where you're holding your wedding too. You're on the first floor. I'm on the third," I replied.

His lips began trembling. "W-Who's Adrian Vaughan?"

"Your biggest old-time client. The one where even your CEO has to mind his P's and Q's when he sees him. The one whose level you'll never reach even if you worked yourself to the bone for the next hundred years."

I then slammed down a piece of paper on the table.

"This is a bill of everything you owe me over the course of the past three years. It's a total of 270,000 dollars. It includes rent, personal loans, your mother's hospital deposit, and every penny I paid for you that you claimed you'd pay me back later.

"Transfer the full amount to my card by next week. If even a single penny is short, I will be seeing you in court."

Melvin's face turned as white as a sheet.

Stacy's eyes were still wet and moist behind him. However, the expression on her face had changed.

She stared at the name "Adrian Vaughan" on the invitation for a long time, looking like she'd just been slapped in the face.

"W-Wait… Your last name is Bloomberg?" she asked, her voice turning shrill. "Orville Towers belongs to the Bloombergs—you're William Bloomberg's daughter?"

"Nice to meet you too, Ms. Decker," I said with a chuckle. "What did you think you were stealing away from me? A gigolo? A decent salary? Or an apartment in my dad's building?

"I don't want any of those anyway."

I then reached for the invitation and yanked it out of Melvin's hands, placing it on the table. His fingers were clenched around it, and I had to use a bit of force. His nails scratched the back of my hand, and it stung a little, but I didn't flinch.

"My wedding is next Saturday, at the third-floor ballroom. Bring the invitation with you if you intend to attend. If not, then you can remain at the shabby first-floor ballroom. It's none of my business."

Then, I turned and pulled the door open.

Stacy's sobbing rang out from behind me. But this time, she was crying for real. She wasn't putting on an act anymore.

Melvin kept calling my name, louder and louder each time. I could even hear them fighting afterward, but I never looked back.