Jess didn't seem to notice at all that both she and Sonny had several glaring hickeys on their necks.

"I came back early to celebrate your birthday," I said evenly. "I called you, but you didn't answer."

She immediately grew flustered, rushing to explain, "I had a little too much to drink. Sonny just brought me home, that's all."

Sonny, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He stepped forward and casually draped an arm over my shoulder, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Grayson, you came back without saying a word? I could've thrown you a welcome party," he said with a grin. "What, don't you consider me your bro anymore?"

His other hand dug sharply into my flesh.

The sudden pain made me instinctively try to shove him away—but before I could even touch him, he reacted as if he had anticipated it all along. With exaggerated force, he stumbled backward, crashing straight into the tall glass display cabinet in the living room.

"Sonny!"

Jess's scream and her movement came at the same instant. She rushed forward to catch the swaying Sonny, but her body slammed hard into mine in the process.

The impact sent me staggering backward. I fell, my palm hitting the floor—onto a scatter of shattered glass. Countless sharp fragments drove instantly into my skin, and blood began to pour out. She didn't even spare me a glance.

Instead, she held Sonny tightly, checking him over in panic. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where does it hurt?"

Sonny raised his hand pitifully. A thin cut from a flying shard marked the back of it.

"Grayson suddenly pushed me so hard," he complained. "It scared me to death."

Jess's anger ignited in an instant, ready to lash out at me, until she saw my hands braced on the ground, blood flowing freely.

She froze. The fury on her face was forcibly restrained as she walked over, reluctantly pulling me to my feet.

"I know you're upset I came home late," she said. "But you shouldn't have pushed Sonny like that. You went too far."

Her tone was full of reproach.

I wanted to explain—to tell her this was all Sonny's act.

But right then, Sonny let out a perfectly timed groan. "Ah… it hurts…"

Jess's heart tightened immediately. She snapped at me, "Let's go to the hospital first."

Pain beaded sweat across my forehead. I didn't bother arguing anymore.

Although she supported me as we walked, her gaze kept drifting toward Sonny.

When we reached the underground parking garage, I reached for the front passenger door.

"Hmph."

A soft scoff came from the side—Sonny.

Jess immediately pressed down on my hand and pushed me toward the back seat.

"The back is more spacious. Your hands are injured—sit in the back."

Meanwhile, Sonny naturally opened the front passenger door and slid into the seat. He looked at me, his eyes filled with the smug satisfaction of a victor. With his actions, he was staking his claim.

That was the moment my patience finally snapped.

"Jess, let's break up."

Her body stiffened visibly. She shot me an annoyed glare.

"It's just a seat. Is that really necessary? Grayson, stop throwing a tantrum! Are you getting in the car or not? If you're not, I'm leaving. It's my birthday—are you really going to make me upset today?"

I met her evasive gaze and asked, "Don't you have anything to explain about you and Sonny?"

"I…"

Her eyes darted, her lips trembling.

Sonny called out again, "Jess, my head feels dizzy… my wound really hurts…"

She glared at me, embarrassed and angry. "You're even jealous of your own buddy now? I don't think your hands hurt that much—you still have the energy to spout nonsense! I'm taking Sonny to the hospital first. You stay here and reflect on yourself!"

Even at this point, she still refused to tell the truth.

My hands were bleeding, a small pool of blood already forming on the ground. And yet, she acted as if she couldn't see it at all.

With a sharp press on the gas, the car roared off, tires screeching as it disappeared into the distance.

Jess had left me alone in the cold, empty underground garage.

In that moment, I realized—I didn't want to let them off so easily.

By the time I returned home with my hands bandaged, Jess was already waiting at the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed. The moment she saw me, she rushed forward and threw herself into my arms, holding me tightly.

"I'm sorry, Grayson, I'm so sorry… I was just upset about you calling the police—I lost my head for a moment."

Her warm tears soaked through my shoulder as she sobbed uncontrollably.

"The moment I got your call, I told Sonny to take me there right away. But who knew you had already called the police? It was all just a mix-up, a misunderstanding. Please don't be mad at me, okay?"

She looked at me carefully, gauging my expression. When I didn't react, she leaned into me, her voice soft and coaxing.

"We're about to get married… don't be angry anymore, alright? From now on, I won't go anywhere. I'll stay home and keep you company. Oh, right—I've prepared a surprise for you for Thanksgiving."

I lowered my gaze to her earnest performance, my heart utterly cold.

Forcing a tired smile, I reached out and patted her head.

"Okay. I've prepared a gift for you too."

Life seemed to return to its usual calm—if anything, it grew even sweeter than before.

But I noticed she checked her phone more and more frequently.

Often, when I wasn't looking, her fingers would move rapidly across the screen.

And on Sonny's social feed, more and more melancholic posts began to appear, as if in perfect coordination.

[Some people are destined to be nothing more than supporting characters in someone else's story.]

I looked at those affected words and felt nothing but ridicule.

Thanksgiving arrived quickly.

Both families gathered at a hotel for dinner. Some elders who had watched us grow up and a few close friends were invited as well.

It was, in essence, a small engagement banquet before the wedding.

Throughout the evening, Jess stayed obediently by my side.

From a delicate box, she took out a silver feather brooch.

"Look, I had this custom-made for you. Your favorite feather design—it goes perfectly with your suit today."

She rose onto her tiptoes and carefully pinned it to my chest, her eyes brimming with deep, unwavering affection. In that moment, she looked just like the woman I had loved for ten years—pure and passionate.

Even when she went on stage to give a speech, her gaze remained locked on me the entire time.

Her voice trembled as she spoke about our journey—from campus couple to wedding vows—about how hard those ten years had been.

The elders in the audience wiped away tears. Our friends looked deeply moved. Everyone was immersed in what seemed like our sincere love.

Everyone except Sonny. He stood alone in a corner, watching Jess on stage with a lonely expression.

The atmosphere reached its peak, and someone began to shout, "Propose! Propose!"

"Grayson, what are you waiting for?!"

A flush of excitement spread across Jess's cheeks. She turned to face me, her eyes filled with anticipation.

"Grayson," she said softly, "will you propose to me again?"

All eyes in the room fell on me.

Under their gaze, I smiled and walked onto the stage step by step, taking the microphone from her hand.

I looked at her hopeful face and spoke clearly, "I won't."

The air froze.

The smile on Jess's face stiffened. Thinking she had misheard, she asked again, "What did you say?"

"I said, I won't propose to you again. And I won't marry you."