After six years of being in love, just when Jonah and I were discussing marriage, he suddenly told me to wait a little longer. His reason? He had to hold a grand wedding with his first love before he could marry me—because it was his first love's dying mother's final wish.

He couldn't bear to let the elderly woman pass away with regret, so he tearfully made a promise by her hospital bed, swearing that he would give her daughter a home.

But he forgot that my mother had also been longing for my wedding for a long time.

I stood there, stunned, my chest tightening with disbelief. "What about me?"

Jonah exhaled sharply, his brows knitting together in frustration. "Can't you have a little empathy? It's just a two-month delay—are you that desperate to get married?"

His words struck like a slap.

I swallowed hard and tried again, my voice quieter. "Jonah... my mother has a heart condition. She's been waiting for this for years. She—"

Before I could finish, he took out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly. Right in front of me, he booked his marriage registration appointment with Nadia.

I felt the blood drain from my face.

He didn't even hesitate.

"Either way, Nadia will be the bride for this wedding. Your mother has to wait, even if she's on her deathbed, for all I care."

I stared at him, barely recognizing the man in front of me. The same Jonah who had once held my hand and vowed to love me forever was now casting me aside like I was nothing more than a trivial inconvenience.

As he turned on his heel and walked away, I felt something inside me snap. My fingers clenched around my phone as I dialed a familiar number.

"Ronan," I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. "I need a new groom for the wedding in ten days. Can you help me find one?"

——

Silence. Then, my brother's incredulous voice. "Arabelle, what the hell is going on? You're replacing the groom? Marriage isn't a joke! Mom will be devastated if she finds out!"

It was precisely because I knew my mother couldn't handle the shock that I turned to my brother for help. For six years, Jonah had refused to meet my parents. So, even though my mother knew I had a boyfriend, she had never seen his face.

"Ronan, I'm serious. I can't marry him."

I had no intention of committing bigamy.

I expected my brother to lecture me, to tell me I was acting recklessly. Instead, after a beat of silence, he let out a heavy sigh.

"I told you to be careful with him when he started seeing you behind my back. If you hadn't been so damn crazy about him, I wouldn't have even bothered acknowledging him." His voice lowered, almost contemplative. "But honestly? This is probably for the best."

He hesitated, then added, "You know, before Mom and Dad even knew about you and Jonah, they already picked out someone for you. Remember that guy who always stared at you like he was hypnotized? Turns out, he's been waiting for you to break up. Just the other day, he was joking about crashing your wedding if he thought Jonah wasn't good enough..."

At his words, an old memory resurfaced—one I had buried long ago.

Back then, my parents had indeed mentioned another suitor, but Jonah and I had already been secretly dating for two years.

I was devoted to Jonah. How could I have even considered marrying a stranger?

I still remembered the way Jonah had reacted when I told him.

He was furious.

The moment I hung up the phone, he had pinned me against the wall, his kisses burning with possessiveness, as if he could erase the mere thought of another man.

"Arabelle, you can only marry me—no one else!"

His voice had trembled, his eyes red with emotion. That night, he had held me so tightly, whispering over and over that I was his forever.

He had even finally admitted to my brother that he had been dating me, confessing that we had already made a lifelong commitment to each other.

Ronan had scolded him for sneaking around behind his back, but in the end, he let it go—on one condition.

"Promise me," my brother had demanded, "that you'll love and cherish her more than I ever could."

Jonah had knelt right then and there, swearing without hesitation.

"In my life, I will only love Arabelle."

His "life" turned out to be incredibly short.

The wedding was just ten days away and I had no time to waste.

I cut my brother off before he could say anything else. My voice was calm, but my decision was already set in stone.

"Then let him be my groom. He doesn't need to crash my wedding."

As soon as I finished speaking, movement by the doorway caught my eye.

Jonah.

He had returned—probably to grab the ID card he had forgotten—but now, he stood frozen in place, staring at me as if I were a stranger.

"Crashing the wedding?" His voice was sharp, laced with suspicion. "Who's crashing a wedding?"

His expression darkened as he took a step closer, his gaze locking onto mine.

"Arabelle, I said I'm marrying you and I mean it! If you still want to be my wife, then stop playing games! If you dare to ruin my wedding with Nadia, don't blame me for leaving you!"

The absurdity of his words nearly made me laugh.

He was the one marrying someone else. And yet, in his twisted mind, I was the villain.

For six years, on every birthday, he had promised, "We'll get married next year."

But every "next year," he had always come up with an excuse. A delay. A reason to avoid meeting my parents. A reason to postpone the wedding.

And now, he had found the perfect excuse. His first love's mother's dying wish. How poetic.

I met his gaze, my heart eerily calm. For the first time in six years, I didn't feel the urge to cry.

I only felt exhausted.

Jonah always had a reason to delay our wedding.

At first, he said I was too young and he didn't want to tie me down with marriage. Then, he claimed he wanted to start a business first to provide me with a better life and put my family at ease. Every excuse sounded noble, as if everything he did was for my sake.

I loved Jonah, so I believed him. I truly thought he had my best interests at heart. Whenever my brother grumbled about wanting to beat Jonah to a pulp, I defended him.

I waited for six years. My friends even joked that if I didn't get married soon, the relationship would fall apart before I ever became a bride.

Finally, Jonah proposed.

The wedding date was set, the preparations were underway—but he still refused to meet my parents. He claimed he wanted to surprise them at the wedding.

Then, just like that, Nadia returned with her terminally ill mother.

That was when I realized—I had been a joke all along.

I let out a self-deprecating laugh and pulled Jonah's ID card from the drawer, tossing it toward him.

"Relax, I have no interest in marrying a second-hand husband."

The words seemed to hit him hard. His brows furrowed and he said,

"How many times do I have to explain this before you get it? What I'm giving her is just a show, a wedding in name only. Once it's over, I'm completely yours. Why can't you be satisfied with that?"

"Right, of course. Go ahead and get your marriage certificate then."

Jonah's fingers trembled slightly as he took the ID card.

Maybe he felt guilty, or maybe he was just trying to convince himself, but he hastily added, "Look, I'm not actually going to register the marriage with Nadia. We're just going through the motions at the City Hall..."

If it was just for show, why did he need his ID?

I responded with a simple "oh," my expression indifferent. Jonah seemed momentarily thrown off by my lack of reaction.

He hesitated, then stepped forward, trying to kiss me as if to soothe me—but before he could, Nadia, who had been eavesdropping at the door for who knew how long, suddenly barged in.

She lunged between us, using just enough force to knock me backward.

I lost my balance, stumbling onto the floor. At the same time, she flung herself dramatically into Jonah's arms.

He caught her instinctively, but the momentum sent them both toppling over.

I sat on the cold floor and watched as Nadia ended up straddling Jonah. Her cheeks flushed, her breath shallow and then—she murmured in a voice just loud enough for me to hear,

"Jonah, your abs are still as hard as they used to be..."

Jonah stiffened, coughing awkwardly. He looked uncomfortable, but he didn't push her away. His hands remained firmly on her waist.

Nadia turned her gaze toward me, her eyes welling up with tears. She bit her lip, as if on the verge of sobbing.

"Arabelle, I'm so sorry! Please, you can yell at me, hit me, do whatever you need to—just don't take it out on Jonah! If he gets hurt..."

Disgusted by their pathetic act, I pushed myself up from the floor and walked straight out of the room.

"If you're so worried, then go ahead and check him out. Want me to give you some privacy?"

Jonah's expression twisted. His face, already tinged with lust, darkened instantly. I wasn't sure if he was holding something back or just furious.

"Arabelle! That's disgusting."

Disgusting?

It hadn't even been thirty seconds and he was already reminiscing about old times with Nadia. Who was being disgusting here?

I turned back and kindly closed the door for them.

As I waited for the elevator, I heard hurried footsteps behind me.

Nadia, her face still glowing, her lips suspiciously moist, rushed over to block my path.

"Arabelle, I'm really sorry! Please don't misunderstand things between Jonah and me. That was truly just an accident! If it weren't for my mother insisting on seeing a marriage certificate, I wouldn't have asked Jonah for this favor. I beg you, please don't cause trouble at the wedding."

She even made a move to kneel before me.

Before she could, Jonah—now looking perfectly composed—grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. His glare was ice-cold.

"Arabelle, I'm warning you—don't take this too far. If things spiral out of control, you won't be able to fix it."

His voice was laced with authority, a command I was supposed to obey.

"From today until the wedding is over, you are to stay at home and behave yourself. I'll arrange for a bodyguard to keep an eye on you."

Jonah didn't even hesitate. He pulled out his phone and called his assistant, instructing him to send someone over to keep an eye on me, making sure I wouldn't "cause trouble."

Then, after glancing at the time, he hurried off with Nadia to the City Hall.

As the elevator doors slid shut, I caught the fleeting smugness in Nadia's eyes—the subtle arch of her brow, the slight tilt of her lips. A silent taunt.

And then, Jonah's voice drifted through just before the doors fully closed.

"Nadia, did you bring your ID?"

It was never about her mother. This whole show was just for me.

Before the bodyguards Jonah arranged could arrive, I grabbed my keys and left. I had something more important to do.

The bridal shop was quiet when I arrived. The familiar scent of fresh flowers and delicate fabrics filled the air, but something felt off. The shop owner, usually warm and welcoming, looked startled to see me.

"Miss Arabelle... you're here?"

I nodded. "I came to pick up my wedding dress."

At that, the owner's face twisted in hesitation. "Oh... Mr. Jonah already picked it up a few days ago."

A cold prickle ran down my spine. "What?"

"He even brought a woman to try it on," the owner added, voice dropping. "I wasn't in the shop at the time, but..."

My expression must have darkened because he immediately turned to the computer.

"Let me pull up the surveillance footage."

On the screen, Nadia stood in front of the mirror, draped in my wedding dress. The ivory silk cascaded down her body, hugging her figure perfectly. She took slow, deliberate steps toward Jonah, who stood frozen, staring at her like she was the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen.

"Jonah, do I look good?"

Jonah's lips parted slightly. Then, a smile broke across his face.

"You're beautiful," he breathed. "Even more stunning than I pictured in my dreams."

Nadia bit her lip, her eyes misting over. "Jonah... pinch me. I need to know if this is real. All this time, I've only been able to picture us like this in my dreams..."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

Jonah, visibly distressed, bent down and brushed his lips against her skin, kissing the tear away.

"Silly girl," he murmured. "It's a good thing you showed up. Or I might have found someone else to marry..."

The owner, standing beside me, looked beyond uncomfortable.

"Miss Arabelle, I—I'm so sorry. This was a mistake by my staff... I'll find an excuse to get the dress back for you."

I let out a slow breath. There was no mistake.

Everyone could see it—I had been played for a fool. Cheated on. And my wedding dress had been stolen right from under me.

The owner, fuming on my behalf, immediately dialed Jonah.

The call barely rang before Jonah's sharp voice came through.

"Did Arabelle ask you to get the dress back? Tell her it'll be returned once we're done with it—no one is stealing from her!"

Shameless. Absolutely shameless.

I didn't even want him anymore. Why would I want a dress Nadia had already worn?

The owner, holding the abruptly disconnected phone, looked at me, visibly mortified. "Miss Arabelle, I... I can compensate you—"

But I wasn't interested in compensation. I knew exactly who should pay for this.

Without hesitation, I sent Jonah a screenshot of the original wedding dress order, complete with the price.

Not even a minute later, my phone rang.

Jonah's voice was laced with irritation. "Arabelle, what do you mean? Just borrowing your dress and you're asking me for money? Shouldn't you be grateful it's getting extra wear?"

I almost laughed.

Yet, the moment Nadia's voice cooed in the background—"Jonah, I want to keep it as a keepsake..."—the line went silent.

Then, a notification popped up on my screen.

[Bank Transfer Received.]

And a second later, Jonah's text followed, [When we get married, just rent a dress from the shop. No need to waste money.]

I stared at the message. Six years together and for the first time, I realized—I never truly knew Jonah.

My gaze flicked to the location tracker in our couple's app. He was still at the City Hall.

I thought it would hurt. But I felt nothing at all.

With a quiet exhale, I disabled our shared location.

Just then, the arrival of Jonah's assistant, Zane, broke the silence. Two bodyguards trailed behind him.

Zane, who had once greeted me with warmth and respect, now looked at me with undisguised contempt. His tone remained polite, but it carried a distant coldness.

"Miss Arabelle, as long as you refrain from causing any problems, we won't interfere with where you go."

A warning.

I couldn't be bothered with fair-weather lackeys. Without another word, I drove straight to my office and resigned from my job.

But when I finally returned home, something else was waiting for me.

At the parking garage, my car slowed as the automatic gate failed to lift. I rolled down my window. The security guard checked the system, his brows furrowing.

"Apologies, Miss. Your usual parking spot is now registered to another car."