One week before our wedding, my fiance, Ashton Fraser, suddenly cancels the world-tour wedding trip that I've been preparing for the past two years.

Thinking that he's misclicked something, I turn on my tablet and am about to ask the wedding planner what's going on when I see the WhatsApp on the tablet syncing with the version Ashton has on his phone. That's when numerous text messages from one of Ashton's friends begin popping up.

"Wait, did you seriously cancel your fiancee's world-tour wedding trip just because you wanted to fulfill Mariah's wish? You even entrusted the authority to organize your wedding to Mariah?

"I'm not exaggerating when I say this wedding is practically your fiancee's life's work! Everyone knows that she went so far as to force herself to continue planning the wedding even when she relapsed from her cardiac arrest! Aren't you worried that she might not marry you at all once she finds out about this?"

With a trembling finger, I tap on the notification.

Ashton replies to the friend nonchalantly, "Laura has already given her life to me; why would she care about how her wedding goes? Mariah wants to try her hand at organizing a wedding. This is her dream.

"Don't worry. Laura cares more about this wedding than anyone else in this world. She's even willing to cut half of her heart just for me. Clearly, she loves me to the moon and back. Even if she finds out about this matter, she will never have the heart to leave me. At most, she'll only throw a tantrum that lasts for a few days. I'll make sure to coax her properly when the time comes."

I take a deep breath to suppress the irregular rate at which my heart is beating at the moment. Then, I tell another man, "Are you interested in getting married? I still need a groom for my wedding."

I had been planning that world-tour wedding trip for two years.

From Glaciera's glass house under the aurora to Solmare's glowing beaches, every detail had been carefully designed and refined again and again.

It wasn't just a wedding. It was a promise for the rest of my life with my fiance, Ashton Fraser, paid for with half my heart.

Now, it had all become a joke.

I stood outside the study, trembling all over.

Ashton's sister, Yvonne Fraser, was inside. "Ashton, are you out of your mind? That wedding trip is Laura's dream! You can't just cancel it!"

Ashton sounded annoyed. "A world tour is exhausting. Laura's body can't handle it. A hotel wedding is simpler. Mariah was just helping out of kindness."

"Kindness? More like a hidden agenda. You canceled the wedding for her sake. Did you even stop to consider how Laura would feel?"

"How would she feel?" He paused for a second before saying, "She’s madly in love with me. She's already given me half her heart. What's a wedding compared to that?"

He said it so casually, like it meant nothing.

Yvonne went quiet for a moment, then she let out a scoff. "Are you doing this for Laura's sake, or just to make Mariah happy? You should be honest with yourself."

"Yvonne, what are you trying to say?"

"That stone on Mariah's hand is worth over a million dollars, right? She didn't even blink at spending that kind of money. And Laura? If I hadn't come back yesterday, I wouldn't have known the future Mrs. Fraser was living worse than a maid."

I slipped back into my bedroom and listened as Yvonne stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Ashton left right after her.

Only then did I finally relax and curl up on the bed.

I stared at the star bracelet on my wrist, which I had worn for five years without ever taking off.

I thought about my birthday this year, when Ashton came home late and tossed me a cheap five-dollar cake from a convenience store.

"I forgot. Just eat this. And seriously, why didn't you remind me?"

However, last month, he threw Mariah Beasley a surprise birthday party.

He rented an entire yacht, flew in fresh flowers, and set off custom fireworks. The whole thing cost over a million dollars.

Back then, I even made excuses for him, telling myself he was just too busy with work.

How ridiculous that was.

He wasn't bad at romance. He wasn't incapable of effort. He simply never reserved any of it for me.

It had been five years. It was only now that I finally saw it clearly. What I had given half of my life for wasn't love that lasted forever. It was nothing more than a heartbreaking illusion I had built for myself.

The scar on my chest started to ache again, and even breathing felt difficult.

The doctor had warned me before that emotional stress could trigger rejection in my transplanted heart.

I quickly swallowed my pills and leaned on the couch, drenched in cold sweat.

The whole house seemed to echo my uneven breathing, and my tears spilled again.

I remembered three years ago, right after the proposal in Glaciera, I came down with a high fever the next day.

Ashton stayed up all night by my side, clumsily making soup and carefully blowing on each spoonful to cool it before feeding me.

He had said, "Laura, from now on, I'm putting you first for every single minute of every day."

When he said it, his eyes were full of me. I had gotten shy and hid under the blanket, refusing to come out.

I thought back even further, to when we first met at a famous overseas cathedral that tourists often checked off their lists.

White doves scattered into the sky, and he walked straight into my camera frame.

The medication finally kicked in, and my heartbeat slowed a little.

Just as sleep started to pull me under, my phone vibrated and woke me up.

It was a message from Ashton. "Laura, my buddy just got dumped. I need to go drink with him tonight. I won't be home. You should go to bed early."

He didn't even bother to come up with a new excuse.

Last week it was a work dinner. The week before that, something about his parents.

I stared at the screen. My chest was tightening like something had grabbed hold of my heart.

At 1:00 am, the pain kept me awake.

Then, a video came from Mariah. The frame was shaky, and the bar lights dim and hazy.

Ashton was slumped in a booth, drunk and half-conscious. The camera was aimed at him.

Mariah's voice came from behind the lens. "Ashton, didn't you just say Laura is too good to you? So good it's suffocating you?"

His face was flushed, and he slurred something incomprehensible.

However, Mariah kept talking. "Actually, Laura just loves you too much. That's why she uses her life to hold on to you, Ashton. Don't be upset."

The moment she finished, the people around them burst into crude, ear-grating discussion.

"Damn, didn't expect that. She always seemed generous. Turns out she's pretty cunning."

"Using half of her life to trap someone forever? That's terrifying."

"Poor Ashton. He's been guilt-tripped for so long…"

"Yeah, poor guy."

"That kind of debt is the worst kind."

Ashton only waved a hand weakly and mumbled, "Don't say that."

He didn't say a single word in my defense.

The video cut off there.

A sharp pain tore through my chest, almost knocking me unconscious.

I bit down on my lip until it bled. The sharp sting forced a momentary flicker of clarity through the haze as I struggled to dial 911.

By the time I was discharged from the emergency room, it was already the following afternoon.

I walked out of the hospital alone, holding my medical file. I felt completely drained.

As I passed through the city center, I saw Ashton and Mariah walking out of a hotel.

Mariah's arm was naturally looped through his. Ashton looked down at her with a gentle ease I hadn't seen in a long time.

They walked straight toward a nearby cinema, like any ordinary couple.

I stood there watching until they disappeared from view.

I didn't even know how I made it back home.

The moment I pushed the door open, Ashton was sitting on the couch.

He frowned as soon as he saw me. "Where were you last night? You didn't answer my calls."

My voice came out hoarse. "Hospital. Emergency treatment."

He froze for a second, then looked slightly uneasy. "What happened? You're sick again?"

I said calmly, "I saw Mariah's video."

His tone immediately turned impatient. "What now? Mariah just speaks her mind. She meant no harm. Those people didn't know the situation anyway. Why are you making a big deal out of it?"

"She said I'm using my life to hold on to you. That's 'no harm'?"

"Then, what do you want me to do?"

He suddenly snapped, "Beat everyone up? Laura Jordan, can you grow up? She was just worried about me!"

"Worried about what?" I asked.

"Worried… Worried that I'm under too much pressure!" His face had turned red.

Silence stretched between us.

I forced myself to stay steady even as my chest clenched in pain. "Ashton, so I gave you half of my heart just so you can join the rest of them in mocking me for guilt-tripping?"

He froze. Panic flashed across his eyes. "That's not what I meant—"

"Then, what did you mean?"

My voice cracked as tears came again. "Are Mariah's tears innocent, while mine are just a way to force your hand?"

He exploded. "There you go again! Always the same story! Yes, you're noble! You saved me! So what, I'm supposed to worship you for the rest of my life? Am I not allowed to have any feelings of my own?"

He pointed at me, and his gaze was full of undisguised exhaustion and disgust.

Then, he slammed the door and left.

Ten minutes later, Mariah posted a photo of her and Ashton playing games in her living room with the caption, "With me, Ashton is always free!"

He liked it immediately.

I gazed at that profile. This was the man I had once loved for half of my life.

Yet, to him, my love and sacrifice had long turned into the burden he most wanted to escape.

Ashton thought I was giving him the silent treatment and left me alone for two days.

However, when he finally noticed how unusually quiet I had become, he even came home for dinner for once. Acting casual, he said, "By the way, for the wedding, I checked a few hotel options. They look pretty grand."

I kept eating without responding.

Ashton looked awkward and cleared his throat. "I mean, holding it here in Stroana is actually easier, right?"

I put down my cutlery. "What are you trying to say?"

He froze, a little embarrassed. "Nothing. Just chatting."

The air turned stiff. Suddenly, I asked, "Ashton, do you remember the gear list we made for Glaciera? Time really flies. We'll be needing it soon."

His gaze flickered, then he forced a smile. "Why are you bringing that up all of a sudden? Laura, those places are too far. It'll be too much for your body. Why don't we just do it at a top hotel in the city? Easy, and still impressive."

Ashton quickly pulled out his phone. "Look at the plan Mariah made. A star-lit ceiling, walls of fresh flowers—"

I glanced at it. That overly flashy, extravagant style had nothing to do with what I liked.

I cut him off. "Fine. You decide. I'm fine with anything."

Ashton froze. He was clearly not used to me agreeing so easily. Then, he quickly became cheerful. "Finally, you've come around!"

He was visibly happier after that. He even offered to go wedding dress shopping with me.

At the bridal boutique, I had just stepped out in a strapless gown when the curtain was suddenly pulled open.

Mariah rushed in, holding a tablet, excitedly leaning toward Ashton. "Ashton, the redesigned main gown is here! Laura will love it!"

She picked up an overly dramatic jeweled crown. "Look at this, Laura! Ashton and I picked it instantly. It really suits your noble vibe."

Ashton didn't even find it odd. "Mariah has really good taste."

Mariah then pulled out a gemstone necklace and handed it to him. "Ashton, go ahead and put it on Laura. You picked this one yourself!"

He took it and awkwardly tried to fasten it around my neck.

I had actually seen that exact necklace on Mariah's Instagram just last week. She had been wearing it herself.

The consultant hesitated. "That piece is meant for deep V-neck gowns. The strapless one Mrs. Fraser chose might not—"

"Change it," Ashton said flatly. "Just do as Mariah says."

The consultant looked at me, unsure. Only then did he remember to ask, "Do you like it?"

"No need."

All three of them froze.

I looked at Ashton and said calmly, "I'm allergic to that kind of alloy. Don't you remember? Two years ago, on my birthday, you gave me something similar. I wore it for three days, and my neck broke out in a rash. You were the one who noticed and took me to the hospital."

I turned my gaze to Mariah. Her face went pale.

"Looks like you didn't tell her."

Ashton stood there holding the necklace, frozen. His expression darkened.

Mariah's eyes turned red instantly as she grabbed his sleeve. "Ashton, I didn't mean to…"

Ashton immediately pulled her behind him. Then, he snapped at me. "Can you stop being so passive-aggressive? Mariah's been running around, doing everything for you! It's just a necklace. If you don't like it, just forget it. Why say such a mood-killing thing? Can't you be a little more understanding?"

I watched him protect another woman so instinctively and found it almost ridiculous.

"Ashton, you have a lot of demands for me whenever you want me to be understanding."

That hit a nerve. He shoved my hand away. "Yes! I'm sick of this attitude of yours!"

Mariah wrapped her arm around his, leaning in softly. "Ashton, don't…"

He let out a cold laugh, then raised his voice. "Stay out of this! I've had enough! It's because you're always nitpicking, getting paranoid, and making a big deal out of nothing that your heart has become this fragile.

"Now you're struggling for breath every other minute. Who else is there to blame but yourself? You always have an excuse! Isn't it just because I owe you half of your life?"

The boutique fell completely silent. The consultant quickly looked away and pretended to be busy.

My heart sank.

So in Ashton's eyes, the life I had risked everything to give him was just a weapon I used to guilt him.

And I had actually been pathetic enough to still believe he would remember that world-tour wedding-trip promise.

I looked at his face, which was twisted in anger, and suddenly remembered when I first got my heart transplant.

He used to wake up at night, always reaching out to check if I was still breathing.

His hands shook back then. His eyes were full of fear.

It turned out that fear and resentment had always been separated by the thinnest line.

I didn't say another word. I just looked at them quietly, then turned and walked away.