I couldn't wait to see Adrian's face when he came home and found the house transformed.

When he finally returned, he froze at the doorway, his brows immediately furrowing.

"Juliana, I don't care if this amnesia is real or fake. You're thirty years old. Can you stop acting like you're still twenty? How childish."

He didn't even step inside. He slammed the door and left.

One of the porcelain figurines I'd carefully picked out toppled from the cabinet and shattered across the floor. I knelt, gathering the pieces, fitting them back together. The jagged cracks looked like badly sewn scars.

Stroking its tiny head, I whispered, "Little porcelain man, you know Adrian's always like this. Don't cry. Don't cry…"

Once again, I comforted myself.

In the days that followed, I tried every trick in the book to cross paths with him.

When it rained, I showed up under his office with an umbrella. Unfortunately, he drove off in his luxury car with Vanessa by his side. When they passed me, he didn't even lower the window, and the splash from the wheels soaked me through.

When I heard he'd be at the golf course, I went early and even crammed in a quick lesson with a coach just to impress him.

The second he spotted me, he turned without a word and headed for another green, leaving me stranded and humiliated.

Still, I brushed it off. I would keep trying. Alas, Adrian never spared me a real glance.

On the sixth day, he finally came home. I'd been working in the kitchen all morning, my hands blistered, just to put a feast together.

He rubbed his temple, then swept the plates straight into the trash. "Juliana, could you stop with these little acts of self-pity? It's exhausting."

I hadn't meant to cry, but the weariness in his voice cut deep. His dark eyes fixed on me dismissively, like everything I'd poured out was worthless.

Tears spilled fast, hitting the floor one by one like broken pearls.

Adrian went quiet, then let out a sharp laugh. "What are you pretending for? Haven't you been used to this for years?"

On one's own lips, those words tasted like bitter humor. On someone else’s, they stripped you of all dignity.

After he left, I sat staring at the food in the trash, staring at the emptiness of this house filled with nothing but loneliness.

I thought, 'Do I really not understand why my thirty-year-old self wanted a divorce? Or do I just refuse to understand?'

That night, I sat at my desk, staring at the journal and the unsigned divorce agreement.

My best friend, Hannah Price, had once asked me on the phone, "What exactly is so special about Adrian Halloway? What's made you love him for fifteen years straight?"

I could never put it into words.

When we first met, I could list a hundred things I admired about him, but the more I loved him, the less I could explain why.

Isn't that what a teenage crush was? No rhyme or reason, just hurling every ounce of love at someone until you hit a wall and can't turn back.

I closed the journal again.

Maybe the thirty-year-old me had been too proud, too unsure of how to act, so she left it to the version of me with only twenty years of memories to choose for her.

Even if it was the last chance.

I sent Adrian a message: "Adrian, today was my fault. I'm sorry. Will you come home tomorrow? Please."

Adrian really did come home, but he brought Vanessa with him.

The confetti I'd prepared for my "proposal" showered down, circling both of them instead. Once again, I became the joke.

Adrian's face darkened, his jaw tight as he brushed the confetti angrily from his shoulders. "Juliana! I must be insane. I knew you weren't right in the head, and I still agreed to come back!"

He turned, taking Vanessa by the hand, ready to leave.

Watching his retreating back, a thought struck me: was it the same ten years ago?

That night when I knelt on one knee and asked him to marry me, did he wear the same cold expression, the same look of annoyance, as he walked away and left me standing there alone?

I ran ahead, arms stretched wide to block his path. "No! You can't leave!"

His eyes filled with irritation. "Move. Haven't you made enough of a scene? Do you want Vanessa to laugh at you forever?"

Sure enough, Vanessa smiled at me, mockery glinting beneath her sweetness.

Shaking, I locked eyes with Adrian, emotions surging so hard I could barely breathe. "I don't care about Vanessa! I just want to know, do you love me or not? If you don't, then why marry me?

"And if you don't love me, Adrian, then why have you worn the bracelet I gave you for ten years?"

I pointed at the strip of warm, wood-brown peeking from his wrist.

When I was nineteen, I'd polished those beads by hand, climbed a thousand temple steps, begged the abbot to bless them. I'd given them to him as a birthday gift.

Adrian froze.

Vanessa let out a soft "Oh?" and tilted her head. "You gave him that bracelet? Adrian, wasn't that the one I brought back from overseas for you?"

The crash inside me was deafening.

I stared at Adrian, horrified. "What did she just say? That's my bracelet. Mine. Isn't it?"

His eyes flickered away, unable to meet mine. He even shifted his right hand behind him, as though to hide it. "Jules… don't make a scene…"

"I'm not making a scene! Let me see. Show me!"

Clutching his wrist, clinging to my last shred of hope, I turned the beads one by one.

Where our names should have been engraved—Adrian Halloway and Juliana Rowe—the letters had been altered. They spelled Vanessa Grant.

In that instant, I felt like the biggest fool alive. All my stubborn love, all my desperate persistence—it had been nothing but my own delusion.

I dropped to the ground, bawling like a child whose candy had been snatched away.

A crack split through Adrian's expression, panic flashing across his face. Instinctively, he took a step toward me. Then his eyes landed on something on the floor, and he stopped cold.

It was the "ring" I'd planned to propose with.

The last clear fragment of my twenty-year-old self was me slipping a soda can pull-tab onto his finger and grinning as I said, "Adrian Halloway, if you wear my ring, you're mine. So, will you marry me?"

Back then, his dark eyes had held nothing but me.

Maybe Adrian remembered it, too. His fingers twitched. His gaze fixed on that simple "ring" and lingered, unmoving.

I don't know when Adrian and Vanessa left, or how long I cried.

Later, sitting at my desk in the wash of moonlight, I finally opened the Pandora's box of a journal.

May 21, 2015. Not only did I propose, but I also married Adrian Halloway! I want the whole world to know! I, Juliana Rowe, am no longer a lovesick fool. I'm Mrs. Halloway!

March 9, 2017. Two years married. Adrian ate dinner at home for the first time. He said my cooking was good! Finally, my new skills are useful.

August 31, 2018. While cooking today, Adrian actually asked me to add chili and cilantro. He said, since we're married, I shouldn't always be the one to compromise, and that he should change for me too. I'm so touched I could cry! But seriously, how hard is it to just say you love me, Adrian, you stubborn man?

May 21, 2019. Fourth anniversary! Adrian took me to the movies and even prepared a gift. The way he kissed me under the streetlight… He's so handsome. No, no, we're old married folks now. I have to play it cool.

May 21, 2020. Lately, Adrian's been coming home more often. I asked him why. He said… because he missed me.

October 20, 2022. Vanessa Grant is back. Adrian didn't come home all night.

February 1, 2023. Adrian threw out all the couple sets in the house. He called them childish.

May 21, 2024. Adrian carries more and more of Vanessa's scent.

December 31, 2024. We fought. He swore nothing happened with Vanessa, that they're innocent. He said he's already married me, so what more could I possibly want?

March 26, 2025. Today, Adrian looked at me and sighed. He said, "Jules, if you keep being like this, what's the point of going on?"

A journal. Hundreds of pages. Tracing the arc of our love from burning bright, to cracking apart piece by piece until it froze.

And then, the memories I had lost came crashing back.

I remembered the day I drafted the divorce agreement.

I'd overheard Adrian drinking with his friends.

"Adrian, your wife's stuck by you all these years. What's so special about Vanessa that you still can't let her go?"

Adrian had gone quiet for a long time. Finally, he said, "There's no reason. I just… can't forget her."

I had seen Adrian at his most loving, and I finally understood that his love was never whole.

That night, I crouched on the balcony and cried until the moon sank and the sun rose.

-

When Adrian came home, I had just finished signing my name at the bottom of the divorce agreement.

He stood in the doorway, staring silently. In his palm, two rings pressed into his skin, sharp enough to sting. He couldn't explain why he'd gone into that jewelry store.

Why, without hesitation, he'd reported the exact size of my ring finger to the clerk.

Why he'd bought a pair of wedding bands as if making a decision he'd put off for years.

He stepped toward me, his Adam's apple shifting, like the words were caught in his throat. "Jules, we—"

His hand lifted, the rings catching the light, just before I thrust the divorce papers into it.

"Adrian, the thirty-year-old me doesn't want you. And neither does the twenty-year-old me. We're done. Let's get divorced."