After all, whether the wedding would happen or not was still uncertain.

Alyssa kept this thought to herself.

The atmosphere turned cold, but Ivan didn’t seem to notice. He casually draped his arm over her shoulder and smiled. "Mom, something this important should be given on the wedding day. It’ll make it more ceremonial."

On the way back, Alyssa leaned back in her seat with her eyes closed. She wasn’t tired; she just found it suffocating to be in the same space as Ivan. They used to talk about everything, but now, they had nothing left to say.

She could feel his gaze on her from time to time but chose to ignore it.

Before long, his phone started ringing. He rejected the call at first, but the persistent ringing continued.

Ivan glanced at her before pulling over to the side of the road.

He adjusted her seat position and retrieved a blanket from the backseat to cover her. Only then did he step out of the car with his phone in hand.

Alyssa stayed awake the entire time, though she kept her eyes closed.

She wasn’t sure if he stepped out to avoid disturbing her or if he was guilty and didn’t want to take the call in front of her.

Turning to look out the window, she saw Ivan standing a short distance away, a sweet smile on his face.

Then, it seemed there was something that had been said on the other end which made his brows furrow slightly. He glanced toward her direction and moved even farther away.

It was half an hour before he returned. Seeing that she was awake, his expression flickered briefly with unease before he quickly masked it.

"There was an urgent matter at work," he explained. "I was worried the call might disturb you, so I stepped out."

"Are you uncomfortable? Don’t worry, we’re almost home."

Alyssa shook her head but didn’t close her eyes again.

Ivan tried to start a conversation, but she only gave perfunctory responses, her disinterest evident.

"Oh, right," he said suddenly. "I forgot to mention—there was an issue with the custom rings. They might be delayed by a few days."

"This company is really unreliable," he added with a tone of frustration, carefully observing her reaction. When he saw her calm expression, he let out a subtle sigh of relief.

But Alyssa’s calm was merely a facade. Without hesitation, she opened Monica’s social media feed.

The latest photo was of a large diamond ring on her finger, with a caption, [A little sweet talk, and it’s mine.]

Even through the screen, Alyssa could sense the smugness radiating from Monica as she flaunted her victory.

Alyssa's face turned pale as waves of grief washed over her.

This ring had been her design for their wedding, one she had eagerly anticipated wearing herself. But now, it had been handed over to someone else.

'Ivan, you’re a liar,' she muttered mentally. She no longer wanted the ring—or him.

In her heart, she silently noted. [This is the third time I’ve forgiven him.]

When they arrived home, Alyssa got out of the car without looking back. She hadn’t walked far when Ivan caught up and pulled her into an embrace.

"Alyssa, have I done something to upset you recently?" he asked. "I feel like you’ve been different lately."

He feigned innocence, but his eyes betrayed his probing intent.

Alyssa met his gaze directly. Unwilling to tangle with him any further, she countered with a question of her own.

"Do you understand your father better now?"

Seeing his confusion, she elaborated, "Three years ago, your father left everything behind to divorce your mother for another woman. You were furious then, unable to comprehend how he could betray your mom despite treating her so well. But now?"

The hand resting on her shoulder stiffened abruptly.

Ivan was silent for a long time before he finally replied, "He only saw my mother as family. His care for her came from a sense of responsibility, not love. Leaving was a form of liberation for both of them."

"What about us? Will we end up like that?" Alyssa asked and stared directly into Ivan's face, determined not to miss even the slightest change in his expression.

Deep down, though, she already knew the answer.

"No, we won’t. I’m not my father. I will always love you, Alyssa." Ivan denied the possibility without hesitation, his expression one of wounded pride, tinged with faint sorrow.

'But Ivan, you already have,' she answered inwardly.

Alyssa swallowed her sadness. She knew she wouldn’t get the truth from him, so she chose not to press further.

After taking her back to the bedroom, Ivan left, saying he needed to work in the study. What he was really doing, Alyssa neither knew nor cared.

She lay in bed, closing her eyes in a futile attempt to sleep. But no matter how hard she tried, rest wouldn’t come.

The place that once brought her security and happiness now felt suffocating.

She heard the bedroom door open softly. Ivan approached, placing a light kiss on her forehead before tucking her in. Then, he left.

Moments later, the sound of a car engine outside completely shattered her hopes of sleep.

Sitting up in bed, she stared blankly at her phone. Ten minutes passed before her screen lit up with an incessant stream of notifications—not from social media this time, but from direct messages.

Her fingers hovered over a photo for a long while. She knew opening it would reveal something she didn’t want to face, but she forced herself to tap it anyway.

One glance, and her stomach churned violently. She rushed to the bathroom, vomiting in anguish.

But the images were seared into her mind, refusing to leave.

As if the photos weren’t enough, messages continued to flood in, now including videos.

The sound in the videos was even more damning than the pictures.

Ivan’s voice, laced with excitement, and the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple left no room for denial.

Alyssa couldn’t bear to listen any longer. She exited the app, trembling.

It took her a long time to lift her head and face the mirror, staring at her pale and gaunt reflection.

She couldn’t reconcile the man with strange desires in the videos with the gentle, considerate person she thought she knew.

A memory from early in their relationship suddenly surfaced.

One time, Ivan had taken her to a party at a bar. During the evening, a drunken man, completely out of control, began causing a scene. His aggressive behavior startled her, and she wanted to leave, but the man blocked her path.

His lecherous eyes roamed over her as he sneered, "You’re a pretty one, but too uptight. Let me teach you how to loosen up."

That was the moment Ivan returned. Hearing the man’s words, he immediately stepped between them, shielding her and glaring at the offender.

When the man refused to back down, Ivan grabbed a bottle from the table and smashed it over his head.

The scene was terrifying. Alyssa had to intervene, fearing things would escalate further.

As they left the bar, the man shouted after them, "Ivan, stop pretending you’re different! You’re just like us—if anything, you’re worse!"

Alyssa had heard every word, and the ride home was marked by an unsettling silence.

Sensing her discomfort, Ivan had repeatedly apologized and assured her, "Alyssa, trust me. I’m not like that. I would never do such things."

"I didn’t know he was that kind of person. I promise I’ll never associate with him again."

Though her instincts told her something was off, his sincerity eventually softened her heart.

But now, in the dead of night, she could no longer ignore the truth staring back at her.

After that incident, Ivan indeed stopped associating with those people and was very respectful of her boundaries in their relationship. Over time, Alyssa gradually forgot about it.

Looking back now, the rumors of his playboy past didn’t come out of nowhere. Perhaps he hadn’t directed those tendencies toward her, but what about others? Was Monica the first?

A wave of nausea washed over her, goosebumps prickling her skin. Ivan had lied to her yet again—this time not just with empty promises, but with something filthy.

Returning to her bedside, Alyssa pulled out her diary and carefully recorded the third and fourth betrayals.

Monica’s messages had stopped coming. No doubt the two of them were too engrossed in their games to bother with her.

Closing her diary, she opened an app on her phone to manage her daily messages. One private message stood out.

[Congratulations on your upcoming wedding with the person you love! But I have to ask, will you still update your relationship series?]

Alyssa didn’t respond. Scrolling down, she found more messages asking the same question.

Years ago, when online storytelling began to surge in popularity, Alyssa had seized the opportunity to share her and Ivan’s love story. The serialized posts chronicled every detail of their journey together.

The stark contrast between their backgrounds—an ordinary girl and a man from a wealthy family—had captivated readers. Early on, some skeptics mocked her, calling it “a Cinderella fantasy written on her deathbed.”

But when their relationship became public, and she confirmed the story was autobiographical, the derision transformed into widespread admiration. When she announced her engagement recently, her comment section had been flooded with heartfelt congratulations from fans.

Now, though, the praise felt hollow.

She knew her fans cherished the raw sincerity of her story. But now, she couldn’t bring herself to perpetuate the lie.

After a long moment of hesitation, she posted an announcement.

[This account will cease updates permanently starting today. All previous content will be deleted soon. Thank you to everyone who supported and enjoyed my work. Perhaps we’ll meet again someday, somewhere.]

Ignoring the immediate influx of private messages asking for an explanation, she began deleting the posts one by one. There were thousands.

With each deletion, scenes from her relationship with Ivan replayed in her mind. Once, his love for her had been real. Now, his infidelity was just as real.

Midway through her task, the door suddenly burst open.

Ivan stormed in, his presence cold and intense, his whole body trembling. "Alyssa, why are you deleting the content from that account?"

Alyssa froze. She had never told Ivan about the account. How did he know?

Looking him straight in the eye, she asked calmly, “When did you find out about this account?”

His face went pale, his gaze faltering. After a long pause, he finally admitted, “I found it while I was pursuing you.”

“But that’s not important,” he quickly added, his voice tinged with grievance. “What matters is that this account records our love story. It’s precious. Why are you deleting it?”

There was something in his tone—a mix of hurt and indignation—that made her uneasy.

So he had known about the account while he was chasing her. That meant he had seen all her vulnerabilities and doubts laid bare.

Had everything he’d done after that been genuine? Or carefully calculated?

Alyssa didn’t dare delve too deeply into the truth.

Swallowing her pain, she suppressed her emotions and looked at him again, her expression calm and composed.

“There’s no special reason,” she said evenly. “I’ve been too busy to keep up with it, and it’s been weighing on my mind. Deleting it will be one less thing to worry about.”