In the final moments before I lost consciousness, I heard Sherina’s voice blaring from the restaurant’s broadcast system.

“I told you to keep an eye on Preston! What do you mean you ‘don’t know where he went’?”

“Useless fools! Get out of my way—I’ll find him myself!”

Half an hour later, after searching through hundreds of rooms, she finally found me.

The moment she opened the storage cabinet and saw my body—frozen purple and barely breathing—someone burst in, breathless with excitement.

“President Andrews! We found Mr. Welch! He rear-ended an Audi at an intersectio...”

Before the sentence was finished, Sherina had already turned and bolted out the door—without even a backward glance.

—

At the hospital.

When I opened my eyes, Sherina was standing beside my bed, adjusting the IV drip.

The moment she noticed I was awake, a flicker of uncertainty flashed in her eyes.

“Do you feel short of breath?” she asked gently. “The doctors said you just had a rib removed—some side effects are normal.”

My gaze stayed blank.

“...Why did I have a rib removed?”

After a pause, she cautiously explained, “Kervin injured his nose in the car crash... He kept crying, saying he was disfigured. So I... I used your rib to reconstruct his nasal bridge.”

I closed my eyes, exhaled deeply, and spoke slowly and clearly. “Sherina, let’s break up. From this moment on, I never want to see you again.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples with a look of forced patience. “Preston, you’re already thirty. Can you stop throwing these childish tantrums?”

Then, as if offering a peace treaty, she added, “Didn’t you always nag me about going on a honeymoon? Fine—I promise, once work settles down, I’ll make time for it.”

"Satisfied?”

Just then, her phone buzzed with a new voice message.

Kervin’s rich, honeyed voice rang out.

“Sherina~ My passport finally came through. Are you really taking me to Barcelona? I heard that’s where you and Preston’s parents first met and fell in love...”

Without hesitation, she replied, “Of course. Pack your things—we’re leaving tonight.”

While hurrying toward the exit, she announced flatly, “Preston, I have an urgent business trip. The wedding in seven days will have to be postponed. We’ll set a new date when I return.”

No argument. No apology. No explanation.

As her figure vanished from the room, I slowly unclenched my fist—my palm bloodied from my own fingernails.

Late that night, at the international airport.

Standing in the waiting area, I received a text from Sherina.

[It’s gotten chilly these past couple of days, so I ordered a new scarf for you. Minette will drop it off at your place tomorrow.]

I remembered Kervin’s designer overcoat he bragged about earlier, it was missing a scarf.

Without replying, I turned off my phone.

At that moment, I felt a soft pair of arms wrapped around me from behind.

“Preston,” a familiar voice whispered, “I’m back.”

I turned around to speak—only to see Sherina and Kervin not far away, fingers tightly interlocked, heading into the VIP lounge.

I turned my gaze back and gently kissed my fiancée on the forehead.

Then we walked out of the airport hand in hand.

'Goodbye, Sherina. I wish you safe travels and true love fulfilled. And as for me—cheers to my new marriage, to a life of joy and growing old together.'

—

Barcelona. Presidential Suite.

“Sherina, are you still feeling dizzy? Should we go to the hospital?” Kervin asked softly, his concern genuine.

Sherina squeezed his hand and smiled tenderly. “I’m fine. I just haven’t been sleeping well lately. Don’t worry—wherever you want to go these next few days, I’ll be right there with you.”

Kervin beamed with delight and cooed, “Then let me sing you a lullaby. Help you fall asleep nice and fast, my dear Sherina...”

When Sherina heard the words “lullaby,” she couldn’t help but recall an old childhood nursery rhyme.

She had long forgotten how it went.

All she could remember was the little boy who used to hum it softly to her as she fell asleep—his eyes as gentle as starlight.

That memory, faint yet vivid, made the dizziness and unease she had been feeling ever since she landed in Barcelona spike sharply.

She knew full well the root of her discomfort.

It all stemmed from the tall silhouette she glimpsed at the airport—that familiar back turned away, an arm wrapped protectively around a petite girl as they exited the terminal.

For a brief, breathless moment, she had truly thought that man was Preston.

Later that night, while Kervin was in the shower, Sherina opened Instagram.

Preston hadn’t replied to her message about the scarf.

What was that supposed to mean?

Was he giving her silent treatment?

With a cold smirk tugging at her lips, she scoffed, tossed her phone aside, and joined Kervin in the shower, indulging in a steamy lovers' bath.

For the next three full days, Sherina abandoned all her work and devoted herself entirely to accompanying Kervin as they toured nearly every corner of the city.

On the fourth night abroad, Kervin clutching a handful of postcards, wrapped his arms around Sherina with giddy excitement.

Grinning from ear to ear, he began writing exaggerated letters to his buddies back in America—eager to show off.

After Kervin fell asleep, Sherina—bored and restless—took a blank postcard for herself.

Her hand moved almost on its own, and wrote a name.

Preston.

She stared at the word in silence.

A second later, her face darkened. She crushed the card into a tight ball and tossed it in the trash.

Early morning of day six, Sherina made a casual call to a subordinate back in New York.

Trying to sound nonchalant, she asked, “Has Preston caused any scenes at the company lately? Like before—storming in just because he couldn’t reach me?”

There was an awkward pause on the other end.

“President Andrews... Mr. Silva hasn’t been to the office at all.”

Her grip on the phone tightened.

“Really?” she sneered. “At least he knows how to behave.”

She hung up and dove straight into the infinity pool, swimming furiously until her limbs gave out.

Only then did she drag herself back to the room.

Day seven.

Strolling through a foreign alleyway with Kervin’s hand in hers, they looked like the perfect honeymoon couple—laughing, carefree, radiant with sweetness.

They caught the eye of every street vendor they passed.

That was, until a man in an olive-green military coat appeared across the street.

Sherina’s eyes narrowed.

“Tch. So that’s why you’ve been so quiet lately, Preston. You actually bought a ticket and followed me here?”

Sneering, she stormed across the road, shoved her way up behind the man, and spun him around—only to freeze in place.

She had the wrong person.

This man looked nothing like Preston.

But the coat was the same one he used to wear all the time—the one she always claimed to hate.

That was enough to throw her into chaos.

Ignoring oncoming traffic, she dashed across the street recklessly, chasing after a shadow that had already disappeared.

Breathless, stunned, she suddenly realized her phone had been vibrating nonstop.

It was her Instagram girls’ group chat. Messages pouring in like a flood.

Irritated, she tapped in, ready to leave the group altogether—only to see a photo that made her vision go red with fury.