I felt Irvin's gaze and lifted my head to meet it, only to catch his eyes sliding over to Selena instead. They were both smiling.

A sharp, miserable ache twisted through my chest.

I stood and turned to my friends. "I'm not feeling well, so I'll head out first. You all enjoy yourselves."

"Cut the cake first. I ordered it just for you. Have a bite before you go."

Irvin stopped me, his expression urgent.

Something occurred to me then—those prank-style birthday surprises that had gone viral online, where they make one person feel completely wronged first, then hit them with an overwhelming surprise.

I reset myself. Maybe the roses were for me. Maybe Irvin and Selena had been overacting this whole time, putting on a show. Maybe today was the day he'd propose.

The corners of my mouth lifted before I could stop them. I watched Irvin lift the cake and carry it toward me, step by step, until he stood right in front of me.

Then, under my hopeful gaze, he walked straight past me to Selena's side.

"You cut the cake first. Then cut a slice for Layla."

The smile froze on my face.

"Get the lights."

A click, and the lights went out.

In the dark, the tears wouldn't stop. I was scared. I was scared of the dark.

"Happy birthday to you!"

Irvin started the song. He sang off-key, and he'd never been willing to sing it with me even in private. Now here he was, singing it for Selena in front of everyone.

"Make a wish!"

The lights came back on. The door opened too. I was still standing the way I'd been when the lights went out, my back to all the celebration.

It was my parents and Irvin's parents. They'd heard the news too—that he might propose today—so they'd all rushed over together.

His mother leaned in close to me. "Did he propose? Did you say yes, Layla?"

My throat had gone dry. I couldn't speak.

Behind me, Irvin's voice came fast and urgent.

"I never intended to propose to her!"

Thunder out of a clear sky.

I laughed. It was a laugh of release.

I stumbled toward the exit, not noticing the courier rushing in, and he slammed right into me.

He threw out a hand to catch me, but the things he was carrying tumbled out of his grip and onto the floor.

A white dress, and a red one.

The white pure, the red one sultry—satin, spaghetti straps, backless. Irvin had never once bought me clothes like these. But he'd bought them for Selena.

"Are you all right, miss? I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry."

I shook my head. "I'm fine."

Then I turned and pointed at Selena. "The owner of those dresses is over there. Go give them to her."

And I walked out without looking back.

Selena's face flushed red. She'd seen that red dress. Irvin probably liked the idea of seeing her in it, she thought—and if that was the case, then she'd wear it today.

Irvin made to chase after me, but Selena caught his arm and held him back.

"Where are you going? We've still got karaoke after this."

The elders from both families watched the two of them pulling at each other, disgust flooding their faces in an instant. My mother and father went out to find their daughter.

Irvin's parents started laying into their son. "You're thirty years old, and you still won't get married. What are you trying to do? Today is Layla's birthday—who are these ridiculous gifts even for? Go find Layla right now! Or don't blame me for not letting this go."

Irvin took out his phone and stepped off to the side.

He started making a call.

He wanted to explain that the red dress wasn't for Selena, but the call was hung up on, again and again.

Irvin stared out the window at the flickering lights, the streams of cars passing by, and his temper rose.

He was exhausted. A surgery that had run more than ten hours. He'd finally gotten a chance to relax, to eat a meal and sing a little and rest, so why did Layla have to throw a fit and make everything this tense?

He figured a child's tantrum shouldn't be indulged.

So he sent a message: 【The red dress is the one I bought for you. I'll bring it home later. Happy birthday.】

The notification chimed. I stared at the words, at the background photo of the two of us, and felt nothing. Who the dress was for, whether any of it was true—I no longer had the heart to sort it out.

This birthday, I hadn't enjoyed a single moment of it.

I returned my parents' call and told them not to worry, that everything would be fine.

On the other end, my mother's voice was sharp with anger. "Sweetheart, why don't you just break up with him? I'll set you up with someone far better! Why should my baby girl put up with this kind of insult? Childhood sweetheart, so what? He's not the only boy you've known since you were little."

I said nothing. After hanging up, I went home alone and turned on every light in the house—including the dozen-odd little night lights Irvin had given me.

A complication from my surgery: I'm afraid of the dark, afraid to sleep alone, because I always feel that if I do, I won't wake up again.

So whenever Irvin worked late, I never let myself stay up waiting for him—though sometimes I ended up awake all night anyway.

Irvin hated seeing me like that, and a heart transplant patient truly can't afford to overexert herself, so to coax me to sleep he'd bought more than a dozen night lights, one after another.

Now I switched them all on, flooding the bedroom with light, and started packing. In a forgotten corner, I found the love letter Irvin had written me when he was eighteen.

【I love Layla Sutton. She has a heart condition, so I'll study medicine. I'll cure her, and she'll live a long, long life. Before the surgery, I'll marry her, and whether it succeeds or not, she will be the only wife I ever have in this life.】

Beneath his bold, forceful handwriting, I had written one word: Okay. And you'll be the only husband I ever have.

Tears fell onto the paper before I could stop them.

Irvin had kept his word. Before the surgery, he really had wanted to marry me. It was me who refused, not wanting to hold him back. I never imagined that one refusal would mean I'd never get the chance again.

I didn't own much, but I packed slowly, on purpose, because after more than twenty years together, I truly couldn't bear to let go.

Since Irvin had said the dress was mine, I wanted to hear what else he'd say.

It wasn't until three in the morning that my phone finally rang.

It was Irvin. I picked up within a second. He sounded resigned. "I knew you wouldn't be asleep."

Then his voice turned urgent.

"Go to sleep first. Something came up at the hospital, I have to head back. Make sure you sleep, or your body won't hold up. I'm always here. Don't be scared of the dark."

His concern warmed something in my chest.

But the next moment, a single sentence drifting from somewhere far off in the call dropped me straight into ice.

"Patient Selena Sherwood. Intercourse too rough, ruptured corpus luteum, internal bleeding. Prep for surgery."

My phone hit the floor.

The call ended.

My heart couldn't take any more. The pain was vicious. I slipped a fast-acting heart pill under my tongue, but it did nothing. I was drenched in sweat, in agony beyond bearing, my breathing growing harder and harder.

My hands shaking, I reached for my phone and found Irvin's name. A second before I pressed the call button, I coughed up a mouthful of blood.

It hurt so much. My heart hurt as badly as my body.

In the end, I switched numbers and dialed 911.

The ambulance came fast, and once they had me hooked up to the emergency equipment, my condition stabilized.

Two nurses started chatting.

"God, I never would've guessed Dr. Sherwood and Dr. Stephens were that wild, that rough? Ended up in the hospital over it—tsk, tsk, tsk."

The other laughed softly. "Dr. Sherwood in that red dress, skin like snow, curves in all the right places—of course Dr. Stephens fell for it. He'd have to be crazy not to."

So the red dress really wasn't for me.

Tears blurred my eyes.

I stared at the ceiling of the car for a long time, then called my mother.

"I'll do the matchmaking meeting. The sooner I can get married, the better."

Irvin had broken the promise he made at eighteen. So I wasn't going to wait anymore.