Chelsea's POV

I spent three years chasing after Philbert Brown. And now, he’d finally agreed to marry me.

The night before our wedding, at his bachelor party, all our friends were congratulating me, saying I’d finally gotten what I wanted. But then I overheard Philbert laughing as he told his friends, “There’s no such thing as a perfect ending in this world. Since I can’t marry the one I love most, I’ll just settle for someone who loves me.”

His words hit me hard. After thinking it through, I hesitated but eventually spoke up, “You might be right. How about we just cancel the wedding?”

——

“What did you say?” Philbert’s face darkened as he slammed his glass on the table.

Seeing that I had no intention of explaining myself, he let out a cold laugh. “Fine. You’d better mean it.”

Then he turned and left without looking back.

The people around us immediately tried to smooth things over.

“Chelsea, the wedding’s the day after tomorrow—why say something like that out of anger?”

“Philbert’s upset. You should go apologize to him.”

Their eyes were full of disapproval as if I were the one in the wrong.

But I stood there, a bit stunned, not even thinking about chasing after him. It wasn’t until someone nudged me that I snapped out of it.

“Alright, you all go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

I set down my glass and left the private room.

Behind me, I could hear someone reassuring the group.

“Don’t worry, they’ll make up soon. Chelsea never stays mad for more than ten minutes before running after him to apologize.”

But instead of chasing after Philbert like everyone expected, I went home. I took a long, relaxing shower and climbed into bed. For the first time, I realized how freeing it felt not to worry about appeasing someone, not to constantly think about how to keep the peace, and not to tiptoe around someone else’s emotions.

The next morning I woke up, my Instagram was flooded with missed calls and messages. But not one of them was from Philbert.

I scrolled through the messages and saw some defended him.

[Chelsea, Philbert was drunk last night. Don’t take his words to heart.]

Others even tried to persuade me, as read: [Chelsea, you know how things are. Don’t make a lifelong mistake over a moment of anger.]

As I kept scrolling, I accidentally clicked the Stories, which happened to be Philbert's. It was a photo of his car window, seemingly heading to the airport, and was taken at 5 a.m., with a caption: [It’s been a while.]

It suddenly hit me. Someone had casually mentioned last night that Shana Austin was returning to the country today. No wonder Philbert had agreed to cancel the wedding so easily. His first love was back.

While I was lost in thought, that Story suddenly disappeared. He must have deleted it or hidden it from me.

Either way, unlike before, I didn’t feel the urge to refresh his profile, write him a long message, or analyze his emotions. If the wedding was off, I had plenty to take care of.

First things first: delete my ex-fiancé’s contact info.

With a few quick taps, I'd already blocked him. Funny how I’d once spent hours stalking his account, reading into every little post, and replying to his messages with my hands still wet from the shower. Yet now, deleting him felt effortless.

Without dwelling on it, I quickly got to work. I called the wedding planner to cancel everything—getting refunds where I could and transferring or canceling the rest. Once that was done, I drafted apology notes for the guests, explaining the wedding was off.

Expectedly, as the messages went out, my phone began ringing non-stop. But I silently turned it off, pulled my keys from my bag, and headed back to the home I’d carefully decorated.

This apartment was in a location I’d chosen with great care—quiet but not too far from the city center. Even more importantly, the neighborhood was full of scholars and intellectuals. I’d once imagined raising a child with Philbert here, thinking it would be the perfect environment for a family.

Chelsea's POV

I went through a lot of trouble to get this place. I pulled every string I could and spent a small fortune to secure it. Then I hired a renowned designer from France to perfect every detail. But after pouring all my energy into decorating this home, Philbert and I didn’t even make it two weeks of living here together before things fell apart.

As I entered the code on the keypad, the lock beeped softly, and the door clicked open. Almost immediately, I heard a woman’s delicate sobs.

“Philberti, what should I do…”

Through the decorative screen in the entryway, I could just make out a petite figure leaning against Philbert’s broad shoulders, crying. Neither of them even noticed I’d come in.

I hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. Keeping my tone polite, I asked, “What’s going on here?”

After all, I was only here to grab some of my things. Besides, this house—if I remember correctly—was paid for by me.

Shana startled at the sound of my voice and looked up, her tear-streaked face soft and pitiful. The kind of look that could make anyone feel protective of her.

Philbert, however, raised an eyebrow at me before his expression darkened. “Why are you here?”

For a second, I wasn’t sure how to respond. Isn’t this my house? I could already imagine how angry he’d look if I pointed that out. But before I could say anything, he snapped again.

“Don’t think you can be forgiven that easily.”

Forgiven? For what?

I didn’t even have time to process his words before Shana wiped her tears and forced a calm smile.

“I’m sorry, Chelsea. I got too emotional and caused trouble for you two.” She turned to Philbert, glancing at the damp patch on his shoulder where her tears had soaked his shirt. “You should talk to Chelsea. I’ll leave now.”

Then she hesitated, her voice trembling slightly as her eyes reddened again. “I really shouldn’t have come today, especially with your wedding tomorrow, but…”

Philbert’s gaze shifted back to her, softening. “What’s the rush? There are plenty of rooms here. Just stay tonight.”

“But… won’t Chelsea mind?” Shana’s eyes darted between me and the decorations in the room.

The apartment had already been prepped for the wedding—red streamers hung on the walls, colorful balloons were scattered across the floor, and a large red “Congratulations!” was displayed prominently in the center. The festive atmosphere filled every corner.

That’s when it clicked. Philbert was doing this on purpose. Maybe because I didn’t apologize like I usually did, or maybe he wanted to push my buttons. After all, he owned plenty of properties—there was no reason to bring Shana to the one meant for our new life together.

Still, I didn’t hesitate. I smiled and said, “Sure, why not?”

It’s just one night, after all.

Philbert froze for a moment, clearly not expecting me to agree so quickly. His expression hardened, and his tone turned cold as he explained, “Shana’s aunt was in a car accident and is in the hospital. She doesn’t have anyone else to help her right now. Let’s postpone the wedding for a few days.”

He knew perfectly well that I’d carefully chosen the wedding date after consulting an expert. I’d told him once, full of hope, “The expert said if we get married on this day, our life together will go smoothly.”

At the time, he’d scoffed and called it superstition. But he’d still agreed.

Now, I just nodded calmly. “Okay.”

I couldn’t help but find it odd, though. Wasn’t he the one who told me to cancel the wedding? Now he wanted to just delay it instead? But I was smart enough not to ask.

As such, the room fell into an awkward silence, but I could see Philbert’s face had darkened further, a storm brewing in his eyes.

Soon, Shana forced an uneasy smile. “It’s fine. I’ll take care of my aunt on my own. As for the driver who hit her, we can track them down later. I don’t want to disrupt your plans.”

“Since she agreed, we’ll go with her decision,” Philbert said, his tone icy as he looked straight at me.

It was almost laughable. He was the one who brought it up, but somehow it felt like I was the one in the wrong again.

Even though I prided myself on knowing Philbert well, I couldn’t help but sigh at how unpredictable and infuriating he could be.

Chelsea's POV

“Well, you two carry on. I’ll just grab a few things and head out,” I excused myself.

I didn’t want to see Philbert’s cold face any longer, so I slipped into the bedroom. Opening the closet, I pulled out my important documents and tucked them into my bag.

But as I turned to leave, my eyes fell on the framed photo sitting on the nightstand.

It was taken in front of a snowy mountain. In it, the handsome man wore a stiff, indifferent expression, while the woman beside him smiled radiantly, full of happiness. Though we were both in the same picture, we looked like we’d been awkwardly pasted together.

Without hesitation, I walked over, picked up the photo, and tossed it into the trash.

I remember begging him for so long just to take that picture, but now, looking at it only made me feel bitter.

Once I’d gathered everything I needed, I left without a second thought.

As I shut the door behind me, I vaguely heard the sound of something shattering inside.

But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore. Everything in that apartment was as good as gone to me. I’d just let an agent handle it later.

When I got home, my parents’ faces were heavy with worry.

Well, I hadn’t asked for their opinion before canceling the engagement, after all.

Thinking of that, guilt bubbled up in my chest. But, thankfully, they didn’t say anything about it.

“Chelsea, come here for a minute,” my sister, Talia Hunt, said with a stern face.

Shrugging, I followed her into the study.

Once the door closed behind us, she turned to me with a serious look. “What’s going on this time? Did Philbert do something to you again?”

I thought about it. Did this count as him bullying me?

In the context of our history, though, this was hardly worth mentioning, so I shook my head and replied, “Not really.”

“Then why did you suddenly call off the wedding?” she pried.

“Maybe... I’m just tired?”

I didn’t have a proper answer. The words tumbled out of my mouth without much thought.

After chasing Philbert for over a decade, I’d never once said I was tired. But after just three months of planning a wedding, it was as if all my fighting spirit had been drained from me.

“Chelsea, you’re not a child anymore. You need to think carefully before making decisions.” Talia’s tone was calm but firm. “You’ve said so many times before that you were going to give up, but every time you ended up running back to him. Now, you’re finally getting what you’ve wanted all these years. I’m worried you’ll regret this.”

Her voice trembled slightly toward the end.

In her shimmering eyes, I saw a reflection of myself—lost and hollow.

Our families had been close for generations. I grew up following Philbert around like a shadow.

Compared to my obedient, well-behaved self, he was rebellious and untamed, always doing whatever he pleased.

Maybe it was because of that contrast that my eyes were always drawn to him. I even worked up the courage to confess my feelings once.

A fleeting crush might be dismissed as hormones, but liking someone for years? That became an obsession.

To Philbert, though, my feelings were nothing more than childish infatuation.

He had laughed lightly and said, “Chelsea, you’re still too young. Besides, I already have someone I like.”

He was three years older than me.

When I was in elementary school, he was in middle school. By the time I transferred to his middle school, he had moved on to high school.

After years of waiting, I finally graduated high school and mustered the courage to confess again, only to find out he was already dating someone in college.

That night, I ripped apart the diary I’d filled with years of secret longing and sobbed into Talia’s arms. “I’ll never like Philbert again!”

But barely a week later, I found myself sneaking over to Philbert's family home, whispering to his family, “Has Philbert broken up yet?”

He’d date someone, break up, then date someone else.

On the road of Philbert’s life, there was never a place for me.

At twenty, I cried over his careless indifference. At twenty-two, I believed that sincerity could win him over and that the timing just wasn’t right. And at twenty-four, thanks to our families’ efforts, I finally stood beside him—not as his shadow, but as his fiancée.

For the first time, I felt a look from him that was peaceful—not as if he were looking at a little sister, but at a woman.

But this relationship was doomed to be bittersweet, filled with caution and restraint.

At thirty, Philbert finally decided to follow his family’s arrangement and get married. At twenty-seven, I decided to let go of the boy I had secretly loved for fourteen years and cancel the wedding.

Maybe some people were just never meant to be.

I turned to Talia. “Sis, I’m serious this time.”