I glanced at Damien’s collar and murmured, “Blueberry jam. From the café.”

He instinctively brushed at the stain, then froze. “You…”

“Calla’s bag is pretty,” I added, my voice calm.

Color rose in his cheeks, not from embarrassment but from anger. “You were following me? Seriously? She only came to me because she was upset. You know her family situation—she has no one else but me.” His voice sharpened. “Serena, can’t you be more generous? Why make a scene over something so pointless?”

A laugh slipped out of me, sharp and humorless. “What a coincidence then… I only happened to be there because of my follow-up appointment.”

Damien faltered, stammering, as though my words had struck a nerve. “She’s different. You—you have someone who cares about you.”

Before I could reply, his phone buzzed. Calla’s name lit the screen. He answered instantly.

“Damien,” she whimpered between choked sobs, “I fell. It hurts…”

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and strode toward the door. Halfway out, he hesitated, looking back at me. “Reflect on yourself first. I’ll take you to the souvenir shop tomorrow. And stop following me—you look like a clown.”

The door shut behind him, but the word echoed in my mind. Clown.

He was right. I only realized it now. I had been blind for far too long.

The next day, the drive to the shop was thick with silence. I slipped in my headphones, pretending to sleep. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, restless.

“The weather’s perfect for the beach lately,” he said, glancing at me. When I didn’t respond, he raised his voice. “I heard the Golden Coast Hotel’s really popular right now. A lot of celebrities are holding their weddings there.”

I hummed faintly without opening my eyes.

“Serena, are you even listening to me?” he snapped, irritation creeping in.

I cracked my eyes open. “Yes. So what?”

He faltered, forcing a laugh. “…Nothing. Just talking.”

A breeze blew in through the window, carrying the chill of the mountains. I turned to him, my tone quiet but firm. “Damien, is there anything you want to tell me about the wedding?”

It was the only time I asked—and it would be the last.

He avoided my gaze, offering a weak smile. “Leave it all to you. I trust you.”

I lowered my eyes. He was still acting. Still pretending. Even now, if he’d confessed, maybe… maybe I could have— No. Not anymore. Trust had already been wasted.

Inside the shop, I examined the custom molds for the pastries I had ordered. The snow-capped mountain design was exquisite, delicate enough to bring tears to my eyes. Just as I reached to taste one, a familiar laugh rang behind me.

“Damien? You came to buy me cream puffs?”

My chest tightened. Her. Again.

Calla spotted me and covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh—Serena? I didn’t see you there.” She glanced at the counter, all sweetness. “Are you picking souvenirs too? This place has the best cream puffs. Damien brings me here all the time.”

My fingers curled against my palm. So that was it. The place I’d heard about from a friend, the shop I’d thought I’d discovered—he had already shared it with her, over and over.

Calla picked up a new dress, her voice light and coaxing. “Amara, would you like to try this? It’s perfect for the beach, and goes beautifully with champagne.”

I stepped back, shaking my head. “No. I’ve already chosen. Take your time.”

She faltered, her expression turning soft with wounded innocence. “Are you upset because I’m upset? Then… I’ll just leave first.”

Before she could turn, Victor caught her wrist. “Amara, that’s not what I meant. She doesn’t need to go.” His gaze fixed sharply on me. “Calla will be your bridesmaid. Don’t be so aggressive—you’ll only scare her.”

I froze. Bridesmaid? Since when was that decided? Shouldn’t I be the one to choose? But then, he had already changed the wedding venue without asking. Why would this be any different?

Expressionless, I said, “That’s just how I am. Whether you like it or not is your choice.”

Both of them stared at me, startled by my seriousness. Calla’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Forget it. I’ll leave. Better if I disappear from your sight.”

But Victor Hale only tightened his grip, interlocking his fingers with hers. “Amara, you’re about to be married. Why are you still acting so childish? Ever since the date was set, you’ve been sulking nonstop—do you find that fun?”

“Victor, don’t be like that…” Calla murmured, leaning closer as if to soothe him.

He pulled away, his voice rising. “Don’t try to persuade me. I’ve had enough! Amara, throw your tantrums if you want—but don’t say I didn’t try. You’ve cried yourself blind with jealousy!”

The store fell silent. Even the clerk bowed his head awkwardly.

Cold seeped into my chest. So in his eyes, my blindness was nothing more than jealousy.

I had hoped he’d remember the meaning of our snowy mountain wedding. But every time Calla claimed “low blood sugar” or “headache,” he abandoned me to rush to her side. When I burned with a 39-degree fever, he told me, Drink hot water, I’ll come later, and never showed up—because he was out shopping with her.

When I dared to complain, he scolded me. Why are you so naïve? Calla really needs me.

On our anniversary, he promised to watch the sunrise with me. I prepared a gift. He forgot. It’s just a date. Why make such a fuss?

But for Calla’s birthday, he reserved a restaurant a month in advance, bought a gift, and posted online: Happy birthday to the person who matters most to me.

Looking back, I realized I should have left long ago.

I turned to go. Behind me, Victor muttered, “She’s probably just suffering from pre-wedding anxiety. Don’t argue with a patient.”

Through the glass, I saw him feed Calla a cream puff, their hands still entwined. They looked perfect together.

That evening, his voice message came: Amara, don’t be angry. I’m busy with work, and I still have to care for both of you. Please try to understand. We’ll be husband and wife soon—I hope you’ll be more considerate.

His words were slurred, a little drunk, a little self-pitying.

I didn’t want to listen anymore. In his world, he was always the one who suffered most.

Fine. I would grant his wish—and lighten his burden completely.

The day before the wedding, Victor finally lost his temper and called me.

“Amara, have you confirmed the wedding procedures…?”

I hummed softly, folding clothes into my suitcase for the flight to the snowy mountains. “Yeah. I’ve checked everything.”

Victor let out a breath, visibly relieved. “That’s good… that’s good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

The next morning, I slipped into my wedding dress. Not the one he had chosen for me—mine.

A car engine roared outside, followed by the shrill ring of my phone. Victor’s voice came hurried and anxious.

“Amara, Calla twisted her ankle. I’m taking her to the hospital, so I can’t pick you up. Just head to the venue first—it’s just a formality. I’ll be there later.”

“Okay,” I answered calmly.

He hesitated, sensing something strange in my tone. “You… aren’t angry?”

“No. Go ahead.”

When the call ended, he exhaled in relief and reached over to Calla in the passenger seat. “Does it hurt? Hold on, we’ll be at the hospital soon.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’m sorry… it’s my fault. I made you leave your bride waiting.”

“Don’t say that.” He clasped her hand. “You’re hurt. How could I just ignore you?”

But unease pricked at him. My voice had been too calm. Maybe Amara has finally come around, he reassured himself. I’ll make it up to her during the honeymoon.

At the Golden Coast beach, the Hale family’s guests filled the seats. But none of my family or friends were present.

Victor arrived with Calla and froze at the sight. Panic struck. “No… Amara didn’t realize the venue had changed…”

He called me. No answer. Again and again, checking his watch, his face darkening. Finally, I picked up.

“Amara! Why aren’t you here yet? Everyone’s waiting!”

I gazed through the church window, where snowflakes swirled in the wind. “I’ve been here for a while.”