"Willard, about the house. Do you have something to tell me?"

I stared at his profile, giving him one last chance. Unfortunately, he avoided my gaze and replied flatly, "No, isn't it all up to you?"

I lowered my eyes, my heart sinking completely.

He was still pretending and unwilling to tell me even a single truth. Even at this point, if he were willing to tell the truth, I might still ... no, it's impossible now.

I clenched my fists. So, this was the ruthless trampling I had fought so desperately to earn.

Willard seemed to notice something, rubbing his nose guiltily. He must be thinking that I must have found out and was giving him the cold shoulder on purpose. Then, he would coax me a bit after we got married.

Right next to the flower shop was a furniture store. I walked straight inside and saw that the walnut dining table I had ordered was ready.

Just as I was about to pay, a sweet, high-pitched voice sounded from behind me. "Willard? Didn't you say you'd come with me today to pick out a crystal chandelier?"

Why was she again?

Jolene saw me and exaggeratedly covered her mouth. "Oh, Cynthia? I'm so sorry, I have bad eyesight, I didn't see you."

"Wait, are you here for furniture, too? By the way, this store's crystal chandeliers are gorgeous, perfect for a big flat! Willard even mentioned wanting to install one in my new place last time!"

My fingers curled inward one by one. Willard had already found Jolene a new place, while I, foolishly clinging to an empty shell he had long sold off, was still waiting for an explanation.

Jolene picked up a brochure. "Cynthia, look at this one. It's imported from Italy. It would look amazing in the entryway!"

I took a step back, avoiding the brochure she was offering me. "No, thanks. I've already made my choice. You two take your time."

That girl froze for a second, her eyes instantly welling up with tears as if she had been deeply wronged. "Do you ... not want me here? Then I'll just leave."

Willard grabbed Jolene's hand as he said, "Why are you leaving? This has nothing to do with her."

He turned and glared at me. "Cynthia, Jolene will be our family from now on. Can you please be more polite to her? Don't bring your outside attitude home!"

I was stunned. Family? What kind of family? How did I, the lady of the house, not know about this?

Then I thought about it. If Willard could sell our shared home without a second thought, why would he need my permission for anything else?

"She's only good at playing those little mind games with you. If you want to leave, just leave. Why make such a big scene out of it?"

They both froze, clearly not expecting my bluntness. Jolene looked so hurt that she was on the verge of tears. "Fine, I'll leave now. I won't bother you anymore."

But Willard held her even tighter. "Cynthia, we're about to get married. Can't you act a little more mature?"

"From the engagement till now, have you ever given me a single day of warmth? And now you're dragging Jolene into this, too?"

Jolene tugged at him softly from the side, yet pressed closer against him. "Willard, don't say anymore."

Alas, Willard's emotions completely exploded.

"I'm going to say it! I've had enough! Cynthia, keep acting up! Don't let this petty nonsense tear open your old wounds again. Don't blame me for not warning you when it happens!"

The store fell silent instantly. Those sales assistants awkwardly lowered their heads to tidy merchandise.

My heart felt like it had been tossed into an ice cave. Hence, in Willard's eyes, my scar was just a tool for attention-seeking tantrums.

How could I foolishly hope he'd kept his old promises close to his heart? Just as the scar remained etched on my skin.

How many times had Jolene called, saying she was "in a bad mood" or "couldn't sleep," and Willard would drop everything to be with her?

Meanwhile, when my wound became infected and I had a high fever, Willard was busy accompanying Jolene to a midnight movie and he only replied, "Drink more hot water. I'll be there after I finish." However, he never showed up that entire night.

Whenever I complained, Willard would frown and say, "Why are you so unreasonable? Jolene is all alone. She needs me!"

On our third anniversary, Willard promised to take me back to the small town where we first met.

I joyfully planned the trip, but he completely forgot about it. He even said lightly, "It's just an anniversary. We can celebrate next time, right?"

Yet for Jolene's birthdays, Willard started planning half a month in advance. Started with booking the most expensive restaurants, giving limited-edition gifts and even flaunting it on social media with a caption, [Happy birthday to the most important little princess in my life.]

The memories of the past blended with the scene in front of me, leaving me utterly exhausted. I should have let go a long time ago.

I turned and walked away, but Willard's gentle voice followed me from behind. "She's probably just dealing with pre-wedding jitters. You're above this, don't stoop to her level."

How considerate of him, even preparing excuses for me.

Through the glass display window, I saw him tenderly holding Jolene's hand, leading her to that exorbitantly priced crystal chandelier. The sight was so blinding I couldn't bear to watch.

That evening, Willard sent me a voice message. "Cynthia, stop throwing a tantrum. I'm out here working hard every day, only to come home to your cold shoulder. This really hurts me."

"We're about to become family. I hope you can understand."

His voice sounded slightly slurred and he kept rambling on afterward, but I didn't want to listen anymore.

He was the hardest-working, the one most in need of understanding. So, I'd make him happy by granting his wish.

The day before the wedding, Willard probably couldn't hold it in any longer and finally called me. "Cynthia, have you confirmed all the procedures before and after the wedding? Tomorrow we'll go to the City Hall first, then to the wedding venue. You know the exact schedule, right?"

I nodded in agreement while stuffing the last item into my suitcase. "Yes, I know everything."

Willard looked visibly relaxed. "Good, that's good. I'll pick you up tomorrow."

The next day, I changed into a simple white shirt instead of the $800 wedding dress he thought was too expensive.

A car horn blared downstairs and my phone buzzed simultaneously.

Willard's voice sounded urgent. "Cynthia, Jolene is having some trouble with her move, so I need to go help her and I won't have time to pick you up."

"Just take a taxi to the City Hall first. It's just for the marriage certificate, anyway. I'll head over later."

I calmly replied, "Okay."

That man paused, as if he sensed something was off. "You're … not upset, are you?"

"No, you go ahead."

After that, he hung up and let out a sigh of relief. He turned to Jolene in the passenger seat. "All set. Let's finish moving your stuff first."

Jolene pouted, her face full of grievances. "I'm sorry, Willard, it's all my fault for delaying you getting married."

Willard reached out and ruffled her hair. "Silly girl, your matters are more important than anything else."

Yet deep down, a vague unease lingered. My calmness just then felt unusually strange.

Willard thought inwardly, "Forget it, maybe he's figured it out and knows I have feelings for her. I'll make it up to her after we get married."

Outside City Hall, all the relatives and friends had arrived, but neither the bride nor any of her family members showed up.

Willard arrived late with Jolene and his heart sank at the sight. "How could this happen. Did Cynthia get lost or forget?"

He dared not think further. Willard immediately dialed my number repeatedly, but no one answered. He tugged at his tie in frustration, his expression darkening by the second.

Finally, the call connected. Willard practically screamed into the phone. "Cynthia, where the hell are you? The whole family's waiting!"

I stared out the window at the familiar streetscape. "I already got married and came home a while ago."