I studied fashion design in college—it had always been my dream.

I'd won the Young Designer Award and had job offers lined up.

But breast cancer treatment turned everything to dust.

Now I plan to return to design.

Travis might be waiting to see me cry for him, so he moved up the wedding date.

He took me to look at wedding dresses.

Staring at the dazzling array of gowns, I once thought marrying for love, wearing a dress I designed myself, would make me truly happy.

But that was too much of a luxury now.

At this point, the dress didn't matter—after all, I was marrying Travis.

Meanwhile, Travis fussed over everything, taking forever to choose.

"This one looks good, but it's too revealing. Do you like a train? The sleeves on this one are too big, you wouldn't like it. Bring out all your haute couture pieces..."

"Sarah, what should I wear? How about this one?"

The way he was putting effort into the wedding, you'd think he genuinely wanted to marry me.

"You look handsome in anything," I said, both dismissive and truthful.

Perhaps noticing my low spirits, he turned to look at me.

"Are you nervous about getting married? Don't worry, pre-wedding anxiety is normal. I'll be with you through it."

Just as Travis finished speaking, a woman walked in.

She gazed at Travis with longing, her wavy blonde hair cascading down to her waist.

I loved long hair too, but mine had only grown to my shoulders.

The atmosphere turned strange, with Travis constantly checking my reaction.

"Travis, why didn't you tell me about getting married? Don't you even have the courage to tell me yourself that you're marrying someone else?"

Elaine looked quite hurt, and Travis couldn't bear to see her pain.

"Elaine, why are you here? It's windy today, and aren't you running a fever?"

Travis took off his jacket and draped it over Elaine's shoulders.

Terrified the wind might knock over the love of his life.

"It's just a fever. What could be more painful than finding out the man you love is marrying someone else?"

At this moment, Travis suddenly remembered me.

He held Elaine's hand tightly, reluctant to let go, and said to me, "Sarah, keep looking at dresses. She's upset, so I'll take her home and be right back to help you."

Travis didn't even wait for my response before grabbing Elaine's hand and leaving.

He was just informing me, not asking.

Travis rushed back just as the bridal shop was closing.

By then, I'd already chosen a dress.

Travis asked me, "Don't you dislike this style?"

I replied flatly, "It's just for one day. If I don't like it, I can return it."

I wasn't just talking about the dress.

Travis held my hand and apologized.

"She's my ex-girlfriend. I was worried she might say something to make you misunderstand, so I took her aside to resolve things. Don't be angry.

"Sarah, no matter what I do, you're the one I'm marrying. I want to give you security through marriage."

I smiled and nodded.

Travis finally relaxed and continued choosing his wedding attire.

He took his time, being meticulous.

As if he really wanted to build a life together.

But if he hadn't said, "If she had just died, problem solved. But she didn't."

I might have believed him.

Maybe he saved me at first, but he used my pain to get what he wanted.

So we're even now.

He deceived my feelings and played with my dignity, so my revenge is perfectly justified.

I wrote in my diary:

[Today a woman called him Travis in that special way. I felt a bit jealous, but Travis was honest with me. I forgive him and I'm looking forward to our wedding.]

—

That night, Travis's phone kept ringing while he was in the shower.

"Sarah, can you answer my phone?"

I picked it up to see Elaine Henderson calling.

Without hesitation, I answered.

Elaine's voice came through, “I’ve been thinking, and you made a good point today. If you truly loved her, you wouldn't fake your death at the wedding."

"Travis, can I come to the wedding to watch this little show of yours?"

My hand trembled, and the phone slipped to the floor.

"Sarah, who was that?" Travis called out loudly.

Elaine must have heard him and realized I had answered. She hung up immediately.

When Travis came out and saw my hurt expression, he knew something was wrong.

Guilty, he checked the call history and saw it was Elaine.

"Sarah, don't misunderstand. There's nothing between us, I swear. I'll block her right now."

He proceeded to add Elaine to his blacklist.

When he tried to take my hand, I pulled away.

Travis looked wounded.

He handed me his phone, "From now on, you can check my phone anytime. I'll never keep secrets from you."

"Travis, Elaine said—"

Travis cut me off at the mention of her name, "Don't believe anything she says. She's just trying to drive a wedge between us."

I looked him in the eyes, "Elaine said you're planning to leave me at the altar."

The moment I said it, Travis froze.

His hand holding mine trembled slightly as he tried to avoid my gaze.

Then he looked up with determination.

"That's not true, Sarah. I really want to marry you."

He gazed at me with eyes like the first time we met, seemingly filled with a galaxy of stars.

Travis, why can't you just admit you're playing me?

I have no value to Travis anymore.

Yet he still chooses to humiliate and hurt me when leaving, just to satisfy his twisted sense of fun.

That night, I took out my diary and wrote:

[Elaine called Travis and said he's planning to fake his death at our wedding. She wants to come watch the spectacle. I'm sad, but I believe Travis would never do something so hurtful. He's a good person!]

After putting away the diary, Travis embraced me from behind.

He pressed against my neck, his breath heavy.

"Sarah, let's..."

Every touch from him made me feel sick to my stomach.

"Travis, it's not a good time for me today."

He wrapped his arms around my waist but didn't push further, just leaning against me.

"Okay. Don't leave me. Just stay by my side like this, will you?"

I once wanted to stay with him forever, but he destroyed that future with his own hands.

Since the wedding was approaching, Travis and I started living separately.

This made it easier for me to prepare for Milan.

Just a few days ago, I passed an online interview, submitted my design drafts, and received an invitation from a Milan design company.

On our wedding day, during their livestream, I would fake my suicide out of love for him—then head straight to Milan.

Let the farce between Travis and me end with such an absurd finale.

—

But the night before the wedding, I went to Travis's bachelor party.

Rain poured outside. I only wanted to bring an umbrella to my fiancé but ended up overhearing everything in the private room.

Inside, Travis was surrounded by friends, the man of the hour at tonight's party.

"It's not like we're actually getting married, so why all this fuss?" Despite his annoyed tone, his eyes gave away his amusement.

His buddies poured him drinks, pretending to be hurt.

"Come on, Travis, you've been MIA since that yacht party. We've missed you, man. We just needed an excuse to drag you out for some fun."

Since that day, Travis had been glued to my side, never letting me out of his sight.

Travis smirked like he'd heard a joke.

"If I don't make it convincing, how else will she break down crying for me at the wedding?

"What do they call it—withdrawal symptoms? Before I bail, might as well give her some sweet memories to cling to."

Everyone roared with laughter.

To them, I was nothing but entertainment.

Only when Elaine came up did they watch their words.

"I heard the famous Elaine is coming to the wedding too. She's not planning to steal the show, is she?"

Travis raised an eyebrow, playing coy.

"No, she's just coming to watch. Elaine knows she's the only one that matters to me.

"Getting close to Sarah was just to help her get into character, right? Lucky break that Sarah happened to have breast cancer."

So that's why Travis seemed so worn out lately.

He could play the loving fiancé while using me at the same time.

Oddly enough, hearing Travis say these things didn't hurt as much anymore.

I left the umbrella by the door—the one with the little rabbit Travis had drawn on it.

That should be enough to make him sweat.

On our wedding day, Travis blew up my phone.

I didn't answer a single call.

When I wouldn't pick up, he bombarded me with texts.

"Sarah, did you come by last night? Did you hear something?

"Whatever it is, I can explain. There's an explanation for everything. No matter what you heard, please don't jump to conclusions.

"Sarah, I'm sorry. I know it's too late, but I never planned to leave you at the altar. I really do want to marry you."

...

After I ignored every message, he sent one final text.

"Will you come to our wedding? It can't happen without a bride. I'll wait for you and explain everything face to face."

What's that saying? Too little, too late.

I'm sick of Travis's performance. The show's over.

I grabbed my diary and wrote on the last page: [Brought Travis an umbrella, but accidentally overheard a truth I didn't want to believe. He was supposed to be a good person, the only light during my darkest days. I...]

I splashed some water from my glass onto the diary—if you're going to fake it, make it believable. Travis taught me that much.

After packing my suitcase, I looked around the empty apartment and at the diary I'd left in plain sight.

Everything was set.

Under the surveillance cameras along my route, I made my way to the bridge.

Finding a blind spot near the shore, I left my shoes behind, changed my clothes, and walked away.

After today, my history with Travis would disappear into thin air.