Late at night, Ethan rushed in carrying the cool night air with him.

When he saw me sitting on the living room couch, he visibly relaxed.

He changed his shoes and walked over, holding out a paper bag with an upbeat tone, looking like he wanted praise.

"Here, weren't you begging for this shop's chestnut cake a few days ago? I drove all the way out to get it. Still warm."

That shop was in the old district, at least forty kilometers round trip from our current apartment.

As he spoke, like he'd done countless times before, he tried to pull me into his embrace.

I stood up, using the motion of placing the chestnut cake on the coffee table to bend down and dodge his descending arm and intimacy.

My throat tightened. I forced out a smile.

"Let's save it for later. I don't have much appetite right now."

Ethan's arm paused in mid-air, then withdrew as if nothing had happened.

He looked me over, his expression unchanged, treating it like I was just throwing a tantrum. Without much concern, he turned toward the bathroom.

"Fine, eat it when you're hungry. I'm going to take a shower."

The water started running.

Just then, his phone screen lit up on the couch where he'd casually tossed it.

Like I was possessed, I picked up his phone.

No password. I'd always known that, but I'd never thought to check before.

The screen lit up, jumping straight to a message thread with Selene.

A photo filled the view.

An extremely exquisite and elaborate cream cake.

The logo on the cake box was from the same shop as the chestnut cake he'd just brought me.

Below it was a line of text.

"The cake is so delicious! Thank you for the recommendation, Ethan~ Being able to eat such amazing dessert before my checkup makes my leg hurt less [cute emoji]"

So that was it.

My supposedly special treat that required a forty-kilometer round trip was just table scraps he'd tossed my way while carefully selecting a cake for someone else.

My heart felt like it had been dunked in a glass of iced lemon water, sour and bitter, clenching painfully.

Ethan emerged from the shower, his hair still dripping, wearing only a towel around his waist.

He approached with humid warmth, trying to embrace me again.

I pushed him away like I'd been electrocuted, scrambling for the clumsiest excuse.

"Don't... I'm on my period. Not feeling well."

The warmth on Ethan's face quickly drained away, replaced by extreme impatience and coldness.

He roughly grabbed his wet hair, his eyes rolling with suppressed rage and irritation.

"Aria Greenwood."

He called me by my full name, his voice cold and hard.

"Do you have to be this relentless and aggressive?"

He raised his voice, as if accusing me of being unreasonable.

"I don't understand. Why do you insist on scheduling our ceremony right when Selene has her checkup? What difference does a day earlier or later make? Did I say I wouldn't complete the marking ceremony with you? Are you really so desperate that you have to throw tantrums over this?"

Each word was like a dull blade, stabbing viciously into my heart.

He remembered everything.

He remembered the promise he'd made at my mother's bedside, remembered that agreement about my twenty-fifth birthday.

But he didn't care.

Just like he didn't care that Selene was my half-sister, didn't care that that woman and her mother's appearance had indirectly driven my mother to her death. He only thought I was being unreasonable, that I was misdirecting my anger.

My heart ached to numbness. I lost all strength to argue, just stood there silently with lowered eyes.

My silence seemed to enrage him further.

He stared at me, his chest heaving violently several times, before finally letting out a cold laugh.

"Fine, you're really something now!"

He spun around, grabbed his jacket and car keys from the couch, and slammed the door as he left.

"BANG—"

The massive sound echoed through the apartment, making my eardrums ring.

I silently watched that door still trembling slightly, watching his resolute departing figure, and suddenly thought of that passionate, spirited young man from before.

When we were at our poorest, we shared a tiny basement apartment together.

He spent his days seeking investors to help build his pack territory, and his nights working odd jobs as a guard for other packs.

On my birthday, he worked three all-nighters to earn four hundred dollars, just to buy me a cake.

Back then, Ethan really, truly loved me.

Every glance, every word was filled with love for me.

I'd seen what it looked like when he loved me.

So his hesitation and wavering now, I could spot it immediately.

Not long after he left, my phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number appeared on the screen, but I recognized that tone instantly.

The photo showed a dimly lit corner of a bar.

Ethan was drinking with his head tilted back, his profile sharp and cold. In one corner of the photo, you could vaguely see a slender hand with nude-colored nail polish resting on his jacket.

"Aria, Ethan seems really unhappy. Looks like you made him angry again. Don't worry, I'll comfort him properly. Want to guess if he'll come back to you this time?"

"Everything you have—Dad, the family home, and Ethan—will all eventually be mine. You'll never beat me."

My fingers trembled, barely able to hold the phone. It took enormous effort to type out a reply, word by word.

"Is that so? Too bad the trash I don't want is only treasured by someone like you, so thrilled to pick up my garbage."

I took a deep breath outside the pack office building before pushing the door open.

This pack had once been all of mine and Ethan's blood, sweat, and dreams.

Back then, though he was the young heir of the Stormwind pack, he stubbornly insisted on carving out his own territory.

The Stormwind family rules were strict. Without proving yourself, you received no support whatsoever.

Those early days were unimaginably difficult.

The funds dried up, we couldn't pay salaries, enemies surrounded us on all sides.

To help him through that crisis, I picked up my paintbrush and painted day and night.

One painting after another, selling them to galleries, to anyone willing to pay, using that meager income to barely keep the pack afloat.

The massive painting at the pack office entrance, "Daybreak," was the first painting I ever sold.

My technique was still immature back then, but it was full of reckless determination.

After the pack's situation improved, the first thing Ethan did was track down that buyer by any means necessary, buying it back at ten times the price.

I remember how carefully he hung it there himself, then gently and proudly ruffled my hair amid all the pack members' teasing, his eyes shining brilliantly.

"Aria, look, it's come home. Later, when we're even more successful, I'll buy back every single painting you sold for me and fill our home with them!"

His words back then were a burning promise.

And I believed him.

But he only recovered this one.

After that, he encountered Selene again.

This promise, like so many other things, was silently shelved and forgotten, never mentioned again.

The moment I stepped into the pack office, my heart sank.

The most prominent wall by the entrance was empty.

Where "Daybreak" had hung, there was now a saccharine, technically precise commercial floral oil painting.

My heart jumped.

I rushed to the front desk, my voice tight. "What happened to the painting at the entrance? Why was it changed?"

The receptionist looked up and saw me. Her eyes flickered, her smile awkward.

"Alpha Stormwind ordered it changed. Miss Selene said the original painting's tones were too heavy and depressing, so Alpha Stormwind had someone replace it with something brighter."

Selene didn't like it, so he replaced it.

This painting was the pack's origin story, the witness to our love, and his promise to me from years ago.

But now, just because of Selene's casual complaint, he'd removed it from this position symbolizing our beginning and glory, disappeared to who knows where.

My heart felt like it had been struck by a blunt object, a dull, spreading ache bringing a suffocating daze.

As I stood before that empty wall, trying to digest this bone-chilling coldness, the security guard walked in carrying a large rectangular box.

"Miss Greenwood, you're here. You have a delivery that just arrived. I need you to sign for it."

I froze.

"My delivery?"

I hadn't sent anything personal to the pack office in a long time.

The guard checked the name on the receipt.

"Yes, the recipient is definitely you."

Confused, I signed and took the heavy box.

I went to the nearby break area and opened the package.

Beneath layers of protective paper, a pristine white emerged.

When I fully unfolded it, my breathing nearly stopped.

It was a wedding gown.

Classical lace long sleeves, delicate pearl embroidery, an elegant A-line skirt.

Every detail was so familiar it made my heart tremble.

This was the style of the wedding dress from my mother's old photo album, the one she'd worn!

My phone buzzed at that exact moment.

A text from an unknown number appeared.

"The wedding gown recreated from your mother's photo—do you like it?"

Seeing that text, I froze for a few seconds before suddenly remembering who owned this number.

My freshly minted, not-yet-public flash mate-to-be, Caspian Shore.

He was one of the most powerful Alphas in the Northern Territories, and Ethan's most hated rival.

Last month, after Ethan once again abandoned me without hesitation for one of Selene's phone calls, Caspian found me on the roadside.

He didn't offer comfort. He just draped his jacket over my shoulders and asked bluntly.

"Aria Greenwood, watching him treat you like this, do you still plan to continue? Want to consider switching to someone else?"

At that moment, alcohol and fury were burning through my rationality.

The deadline for my mother's dying wish was approaching, yet Ethan kept breaking his promises again and again.

I spoke without thinking.

"Switch to someone else? What's the point of just dating! Caspian Shore, why don't you just marry me?"

The moment the words left my mouth, the cold wind sobered me up considerably.

God, what was I saying?

I'd just proposed to Ethan's mortal enemy?

He'd definitely think I was insane, mock my delusions with the most cutting words.

However, Caspian simply raised an eyebrow slightly.

He agreed without any hesitation.

"Alright. It's a deal."

Now, looking at that line about the wedding gown on my screen, I couldn't control the slight upward curve of my lips.

Did I like it? I more than liked it.

The design for this gown was drawn by my mother's own hand, stroke by stroke, when she was pregnant with me.

She'd said it was a gift for her future daughter, hoping she'd wear this gown and walk toward the happiest moment of her life.

Before she fell ill, my mother was one of the country's top wedding dress designers. The words she said to me most often were:

"Aria, the moment a girl puts on her wedding dress is the most beautiful flash of her entire life. I'll make sure you become the happiest bride."

I'd mentioned it to Ethan more than once, begging him to help me find the best craftspeople to turn my mother's design into reality.

I wasn't greedy. I didn't even dare hope I could actually wear it at a wedding ceremony.

I just wanted to wear it to my mother's grave someday, twirl around for her to see.

Then tell her that her daughter wore the gown she designed, that I was happy, so she could rest in peace.

Ethan always readily agreed.

"Sure, sure, baby, I'll find someone after I finish this project."

"Don't worry, I remember. Next time I'm in Italy, I'll ask the master craftsmen."

But one "next time" followed another. The promise always stayed verbal.

Perhaps in his heart, anything related to me, important or not, always sat at the very bottom of his priority list.

The Plan B that could be delayed or canceled at any time for other people.

Yet this dream I'd anticipated for so long, this wish I couldn't fulfill, had suddenly materialized in an almost dreamlike way through the alliance marriage partner I'd chosen in a fit of spite.

A complex mixture of bittersweet emotion and warmth welled up inside me.

I took a deep breath and reached out, wanting to touch that delicate lace and pearls, to feel this intention from my mother.

Just as my fingertips were about to make contact.

Another well-manicured hand with nude-colored nail polish reached in from the side, getting there first, lightly pinching a corner of the gown's sleeve between her fingers.

The owner of that hand spoke with feigned surprise.

"Oh, what a beautiful wedding gown! Aria, is this for your ceremony with Ethan?"