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."

I scanned the code again, but the parking garage gate remained stubbornly closed. Through the barrier, I saw a sleek, unfamiliar car parked in my designated spot.

Recognition struck me instantly. It was the car Jonah had promised to give me two months ago.

But now, the person stepping out of it wasn't me. It was Nadia.

She saw me immediately, her gaze flickering in my direction. But instead of acknowledging my presence, she put on a deliberate act—lifting a bright red marriage certificate and waving it in front of Jonah.

"Jonah," she said, "as soon as the City Hall opens tomorrow, I'll go with you to apply for a divorce. That way, I won't delay your wedding with Arabelle."

The only thing redder than the marriage certificate was Nadia's teary eyes.

Jonah reached out, rubbing her head with an affectionate indulgence. His voice was low, coaxing.

"Silly girl," he murmured. "Just wait a little longer. Arabelle won't marry anyone but me. She'd wait years if she had to."

They turned away, walking hand in hand toward our—no, their—home. I stood still, watching their retreating figures, but I felt no pain. Just a quiet, simmering exhaustion.

Without hesitation, I booked myself a hotel.

But the air in the room felt suffocating, so I changed into my running gear and headed to a nearby park.

The rhythmic pounding of my footsteps against the pavement was grounding, but the tightness in my chest refused to ease. I pushed forward, completing one lap, then another, letting the motion carry me through the hollow ache of betrayal.

And then I saw them.

Jonah and Nadia, fingers interlocked, strolling through the park.

Jonah had never liked night runs. But there he was, indulging her, listening as she whispered sweet nothings, her laughter like a delicate chime in the night air.

I had no interest in their love-struck performance.

Slipping on my headphones, I turned in the opposite direction, increasing my pace. My mind was already elsewhere—so much so that I didn't notice I was being followed.

Until it was too late.

A hand clamped over my mouth, yanking me backward with brutal force. My body slammed against something solid—a car.

I thrashed wildly, trying to break free, but the grip was unrelenting. Through the reflection in the window, I caught a glimpse of my assailant.

A woman. A face eerily similar to Nadia's.

Not an exact match—but close enough.

"If you dare to steal my daughter's man," she hissed into my ear, "you deserve to die!"

Panic surged through me. My eyes darted around, desperately searching for help.

And then I saw Zane. He stood not far away, phone pressed to his ear. Our eyes met for a fleeting second.

I pleaded silently, frantically waving my free hand. But he merely turned his back, taking a slow step away. The two bodyguards beside him followed suit, like they had seen nothing.

The woman behind me was shockingly strong—nothing like someone supposedly dying from a terminal illness.

Before I could react further, a sharp pain bloomed at the back of my skull. My vision blurred. My body gave out.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

***

When I came to, my limbs were leaden, my breath shallow. A metallic taste coated my tongue.

Something was wrong.

Blinking rapidly, I tried to focus. The air was thick with the scent of blood. I was in some kind of cheap motel room.

And then I saw her. Nadia's mother lay crumpled on the floor, pale and motionless, blood pooling beneath her.

Before I could even process the scene, the door burst open with a violent kick.

Jonah stormed in, his face contorted in fury. His men followed closely behind.

A scream shattered the silence.

"Mom!"

Nadia shoved past them, her wail piercing. She collapsed beside her mother's limp body, hands shaking as she tried to rouse her.

"Mom, what happened to you? Don't scare me like this!"

Her cries were raw, filled with hysteria. Then, as if suddenly remembering my presence, she turned on me, her eyes blazing with accusation.

"Arabelle!" she shrieked. "What have I ever done to you? How could you be so cruel? My mom barely has any time left to live and you—"

She choked on a sob, her body trembling.

Jonah stood frozen, his usual composure cracking at the sight of so much blood. His hemophobia was well-known—he could hardly look, yet he forced himself to act.

Jaw clenched, he grabbed his phone, dialing emergency services. But that didn't stop him from lashing out. With unbridled fury, he sent a vicious kick to my chest. Pain exploded through me, knocking the breath from my lungs.

"Arabelle, you've really disappointed me!" he spat.

As I struggled to breathe, Nadia latched onto his arm, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Jonah, forget it," she pleaded. "This is all my fault. I never should have asked for your help. Right now, I just want my mom to be safe..."

Her voice broke on the last word.

Jonah's anger flared anew. He turned sharply to Zane, his glare lethal.

"Didn't I tell you to keep an eye on her? To make sure she didn't cause trouble?"

Zane and the two bodyguards stiffened, exchanging quick glances before responding in unison.

"Miss Arabelle was driving too fast. We couldn't keep up."

It was a well-crafted excuse and Jonah didn't even question it. After all, before I met him, I had a reputation for street racing. It was enough to make their lie believable.

Suppressing his discomfort, Jonah crouched down beside Nadia, his attention fully on her.

"Nadia, your mom's strong. She'll be okay."

The woman on the ground trembled slightly. But she didn't dare to open her eyes.

I let out a bitter laugh, the taste of blood thick on my tongue.

"Stop crying already," I muttered, voice hoarse. "Or your mom won't be able to keep up the act."

The moment the words left my mouth, Nadia snapped.

With a wild, furious cry, she grabbed the blood-stained knife from the floor and lunged at me.

"Arabelle! I'll give Jonah back to you, okay? Why did you hurt my mom and then slander her? Do you even have a conscience?"

Her grip on the knife was unsteady, her rage blinding.

Jonah moved in an instant, seizing her wrist before the blade could reach me. With a swift motion, he pried the weapon from her grasp.

Then, without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms, holding her shaking body tightly against his own.