Three days before we were supposed to get our marriage license, he was stranded in a conflict zone. His flight went down. No survivors.

I couldn't accept it. Every night I clutched his clothes and sobbed until I couldn't breathe. More than once, I nearly followed him into the dark.

Four years. Everyone told me to move on.

I refused. I was terrified that if I let go, no one would remember how deeply we'd loved each other.

Then, on April Fool's Day, I got a rush order. A private villa needed organizing, plus a home-cooked dinner. Triple my usual rate.

The next day, after finishing the organizing, I stepped into the kitchen to prep the ingredients and felt the air leave my lungs.

Every single item was something he used to love.

My chest clenched. My eyes burned. But he would never taste my cooking again.

Half an hour later, I pushed open the kitchen door. A voice drifted toward me, dripping with tenderness.

"Hey, sweetheart. Did the baby give you any trouble today?"

"Look what I brought you."

I froze where I stood.

Because the man in front of me was Julian Weiss. My boyfriend. The one who'd been dead for four years.

——

Our eyes locked, and I saw it clearly: the guilt and the shock that flashed across his face.

My heart seized like a fist had closed around it and squeezed. The pain was suffocating, radiating through every nerve, stinging my nose and scalding my eyes.

I opened my mouth, tried to make a sound, but Julian's gaze dropped to Grace Barnes's swollen belly, and he shot me a look. A warning.

Grace noticed him go still. She turned, curious, and when she saw me, a blush crept across her cheeks. She gently pushed Julian away.

Her voice was soft, explanatory.

"The housekeeper's on vacation, so I found an organizer online."

"Miss Harding can organize and cook. Two birds, one stone."

Then she turned to me, beaming with unmistakable happiness.

"Miss Harding, this is my husband, Julian Weiss. CEO of the Weiss Group."

"Sorry about the PDA." She let out a shy little laugh. "That's just how we are. He's always surprising me with sweet little gestures."

I forced my face into something that was supposed to be a smile. It probably looked worse than crying. I swallowed the lump in my throat and fought to keep my voice steady.

"Mr. Weiss treats you so well."

The words had barely left my mouth when Julian spoke, his tone flat and cold.

"Miss Harding, there's a storm rolling in. It's hard to get a cab out here in the suburbs."

I stared at the ice in his eyes and went blank for a moment.

Before I could respond, Grace shot him an annoyed glare.

"Don't be rude!"

She turned back to me, her voice warm with apology.

"Don't mind him, Miss Harding. He was born with that scowl. Too used to playing the big boss at the office."

"But with me? He's honestly the sweetest man alive."

"Sometimes I think I must have saved the galaxy in a past life to deserve someone like him."

As she spoke, she rolled up her sleeve, revealing a faint scar across her wrist.

"Four years ago, my company sent me overseas on assignment. The region was unstable."

"He didn't hesitate. Flew out to be with me for two weeks. But when it was time to leave, fighting broke out. He threw himself over me, shielded me with his body, and we missed the last flight home."

"He was in a coma for a full week before he woke up. After we were finally evacuated, we found out that the flight we'd missed had crashed."

"After surviving something like that, we both knew. We were meant to be. We got married without a second thought."

The ache in my chest deepened until it was unbearable. I had never felt so pathetic in my entire life.

So while I'd been glued to the news back home, sleepless and sick with dread, crying until I had nothing left, he'd been overseas. With her. By her side the whole time.

When the news of his death reached me, grief tore me apart. I passed out from crying, again and again.

I'd been clutching his clothes, burying my face in the fading scent of him, ready to end my own life—and all that time, he'd already found someone else. Already chosen her. Already planning a wedding.

"When we first got together, I had a falling-out with my roommate. I was going to rent some cheap place in the old quarter, but he took every penny he'd saved and bought me an apartment near work. Put it in my name."

The memory surfaced without warning.

When we were looking for a place to rent, the sun-facing rooms cost two hundred dollars more a month. I couldn't bring myself to spend it, so I lived in a room with no sunlight for two years.

My clothes never dried properly. I got a urinary tract infection.

One night I woke up at 2 a.m. passing blood, drenched in cold sweat from the pain.

Julian panicked. He scooped me up and ran to the hospital like a man possessed.

In the corridor, he crouched in front of me and gripped my hands, his eyes full of guilt and anguish.

"Gertie, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I'm useless—I let you suffer like this."

"I swear I'll work harder. I'll buy you a place with a big balcony."

"He always said every single day we were together was an anniversary. He'd surprise me out of nowhere."

Grace's voice pulled me back. She held up her phone, beaming.

"This is my account—just for documenting our life together."

Her slender, manicured fingers scrolled down. Every post dripped with luxury. Jewelry, fresh flowers, designer goods, and a postnatal recovery center that cost tens of thousands a month.

And the pinned post at the very top—two crimson marriage certificates.

The date.

It was the day I tried to kill myself for him.

I stood frozen. A high-pitched ringing flooded my ears. My whole body shook, and my nails dug so hard into my palms I could feel the skin split.

At that exact moment, thunder cracked across the sky, its flash sweeping over the massive villa.

It lit up Julian's face. His expression was unreadable—dark and impenetrable.

Grace snapped back to the present and turned to me.

"Miss Harding, it looks like there's going to be a terrible downpour. Why don't you stay and have dinner with us?"

I choked down the nausea rising with the grief, and forced a smile.

"No, thank you. I have another job nearby, and I'm running behind."

I fled the villa. Fat raindrops crashed down the second I stepped outside.

I pried open my rusted umbrella and stood alone at the curb, hands shaking as I lit up my phone screen. The wallpaper stared back at me, and I let out a bitter laugh.

It was a photo of Julian and me against a red backdrop, taken on our third anniversary. We'd planned to use it for our wedding portrait.

Tears burned at the edges of my eyes. A gust of wind ripped through, and the umbrella was torn from my grip.

Without its shelter, the rain hit me full force. My foot slipped. I went down hard, sprawling on the ground.

Ice-cold mud soaked through every layer. Humiliation and despair crashed over me at once, and I collapsed forward, sobbing so hard no sound came out at first—then all of it came pouring out.

A tall figure stepped in front of me, blocking the rain.

I looked up through blurred, tear-soaked eyes and met Julian's face. His brows were drawn tight, and buried deep in his gaze was a flicker of pain he almost managed to hide.

"Gertie, is this how you've been taking care of yourself while I was gone?"

I shoved him back with both hands.

"How dare you. How dare you say that to me."

"Why couldn't you have actually died? Was it fun—lying to me?"

"You faked your own death for that woman. What does that make me? Something worthless you could just throw away?"

"Enough!"

Julian's face went black with rage.

"All of it was my fault. Leave Grace out of this."

A laugh scraped out of my throat—raw, mocking.

"Mr. Weiss really does love his wife."

The words barely left my mouth before my hand swung up, and I slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

My wrist throbbed from the impact, and my heart ached so badly I could barely breathe.

He turned his head away, his Adam's apple bobbing, both fists clenched white-knuckle tight.

When he finally spoke, his voice came out raw.

"Gertie, I'm sorry..."

I listened to those words, raised my hand, and swung another slap across his face.

But before it could land, he pulled me into his arms.

That was when Grace's voice rang out behind us.

"Julian... what is this?"

"Grace, it's pouring out here. Why did you come outside?"

Julian shoved me away in a panic, turning to face those reddened eyes of hers.

Grace stared at him in disbelief, her voice hoarse and cracking.

"You lied to me. Told me you had business at the office. And all this time you were out here wrapped around this tramp?"

"If I hadn't noticed you left your phone behind, I never would've known what kind of man you really are!"

She lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and slapped me hard across the face.

"Miss Harding, I was kind enough to invite you to dinner, and this is how you repay me? Throwing yourself at someone else's husband?"

Julian pulled her into his arms, his voice dropping low and soothing.

"Grace, stop. Don't do this. You still have the baby to think about."

That only made her spiral further. She screamed until her voice broke.

"Oh, so NOW you remember I'm carrying your child?!"

"And you go and do THIS to me!"

"You know the one thing I hate most in this world is a homewrecker!"

My scalp burned. My cheek stung like fire. I looked at Julian, at the guilt carved across his face, and my voice came out strangled.

"Julian. Tell her. Between the two of us, who's really the other woman?"

His gaze dropped. His lips pressed into a hard line. He didn't say a single word.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh and took out my phone, unlocking my private album.

"Since he won't say it, I will."

"Take a good look, Miss Barnes. Between the two of us, who is the third wheel?"

Grace's entire body went rigid. Her head snapped up, eyes flooding with disbelief as she turned to Julian.

"You told me I was your first love. You lied to me!"

She screamed, stumbling backward.

Her foot slipped, and she crashed against the edge of a planter.

Julian's face drained of color. He lunged forward, catching Grace before she hit the ground, her face white as paper.

She shoved at him wildly. "Get away from me! Don't touch me!"

"I'll get rid of this baby. I won't let my child be a homewrecker's child!"

Julian's eyes rimmed red. He scooped her up, arms locked tight around her waist, his voice thick with anguish.

"Don't talk like that. You're my wife. You and this baby are my whole world."

I reached out instinctively to stop him, but his shoulder slammed into me and sent me sprawling to the ground. He looked down at me, his expression dark as a storm.

"You knew Grace was pregnant, and you still said those things to provoke her!"

"If anything happens to her or the baby, I will never forgive you."

I lay on the wet ground. A shard of broken glass on the pavement had driven itself into my arm, and blood soaked through my sleeve in seconds.

I watched his retreating back, that unwavering, merciless back, and it felt like a fist had closed around my heart and was crushing it to pulp.

But Julian... I gave you a daughter too.

I drifted into a strange, fractured dream.

The sky blazed with fireworks, brilliant and blinding, and Julian knelt before me on one knee, a simple ring cradled in his palms, his eyes full of reverence.

"Gertie, the luckiest thing that ever happened to me was meeting you. Falling in love with you."

"Will you marry me?"

The scene shattered. In its place was Julian holding Grace, walking away without a backward glance, and the image seared into my eyes like staring into the sun.

I sobbed, crying out through the haze.

"Julian, don't leave me..."