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."