The three of them stepped back into the club.

Just then, a waiter pushed in a massive bouquet of red roses. "Mr. Hardy, here are the 999 roses you ordered for Miss Seraphine Cox."

In that instant, the atmosphere shifted.

Luke's expression darkened first.

Nine hundred ninety-nine roses symbolized an all-consuming love—anyone witnessing such a grand gesture would read into it. He stole a glance at Daphne, a flicker of unease in his eyes, but she remained unfazed.

"Daphne, don't misunderstand. This is just to welcome Seraphine back—"

"I know. You don't have to explain." Daphne smiled. Her reaction was so calm that even Luke hesitated, momentarily thrown off.

Lately, he'd felt something off about Daphne—she was too serene, so at ease it was as if she had stopped caring altogether.

Her gaze drifted to the enormous bouquet, then she recalled the flowers Luke had casually bought her at a roadside stall a few days ago. One was exquisite and luxurious; the other, careless and perfunctory.

Just like in his heart—Daphne and Seraphine were worlds apart.

She had once come across a handwritten letter from Luke on Seraphine's Instagram.

In it, he had written how relieved he was that they had never been together. That back then, he had nothing to his name and would have only given her a life of hardship.

On the other hand, Daphne had stayed by his side through those years of struggle, never wavering, never leaving. Yet he had never once given her a gift he had truly put thought into.

What he did give her were things Seraphine had rejected.

In Luke's eyes, she had always been just a substitute, something to pass the time while Seraphine wasn't around.

At that moment, the towering building outside the window lit up, massive glowing words flashing across its surface: "Luke & Seraphine—Be Each Other's Light."

Luke saw them, and his face instantly drained of color.

"I—I can explain..."

Panicked, Luke grabbed Daphne's wrist.

Seraphine let out a soft cry, "Daphne! Please don't get the wrong idea! Luke and I are just really good friends!"

But something inside Daphne cracked. A sharp, dull pain pressed against her chest, so suffocating she couldn't even force a smile.

They were each other's light.

Then what was she?

An obstacle? An eyesore?

She had thought she was past this, that nothing he did could hurt her anymore. But clearly, she had been wrong.

Luke had never been a romantic man. He was even a little reserved.

Once, all she had wanted was to hold his hand while walking down the street. But even that had been too much for him. "There are too many people. It wouldn't look good," he had said.

Yet for Seraphine, he had been willing to spend a fortune, to make a grand confession in the heart of the city for all to see.

In this story of love between them, Daphne was nothing but an unwanted third party.

"Excuse me." Daphne picked up her bag and turned to leave.

Luke immediately followed. "Daphne, listen to me—I have no feelings for Seraphine."

"I know. It's fine." Her voice was calm, effortlessly cutting off every excuse he tried to give.

Again, that unbearable feeling—the push and pull, the endless cycle of distance and false closeness.

Luke's brows furrowed.

As Daphne stepped away, Seraphine hurried after her, her voice laced with grievance. "Daphne, please, don't misunderstand—"

She reached out, catching Daphne's hand.

Before Daphne could react, the sharp sound of a slap rang through the air.

Seraphine staggered backward, hitting the ground hard.

Her hand flew to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock. "Daphne, why did you hit me?"

Daphne froze, momentarily stunned by the sheer theatricality of it. Then, in the next breath, she understood exactly what Seraphine was doing.

Luke rushed over.

Daphne turned her head, meeting his gaze just as his face twisted into something unreadable—his expression shifting to one of cold fury.

Instinctively, she reached for his hand, desperate to explain. "No—Luke, I didn't—"

She had assumed he wouldn't fall for such an obvious trick.

But there wasn't the slightest doubt in his eyes.

He simply looked at her, then violently shook off her hand.

The force of it sent her stumbling backward. The world spun for a moment before she hit the ground.

Stunned, she stared up at him. In all their years together, he had never once laid a hand on her.

And now, for Seraphine, he had.

Tears blurred her vision before she could stop them.

And then she laughed.

Laughed at herself, at the absurdity of it all.

Even if she was hurt, would it matter?

His entire world, at this moment, revolved around Seraphine.

He bent down, carefully helping Seraphine up. He gently pried her hand away from her cheek to check for any signs of injury.

Only after a long moment did he finally exhale in relief. His voice was gentle. "Seraphine, don't cry. There's no mark. No one at the party will be able to tell."

Then he turned to Daphne. His tone, now cold and sharp, cut through the air. "Daphne, you've gone too far. Apologize to Seraphine!"

Daphne sat frozen, as if her soul had drifted out of her body, watching the perfect couple across from her.

Yes, a perfect couple.

How ridiculous. Her boyfriend was confessing his love to another woman, and somehow, she—the one being framed—was expected to apologize.

"What?"

Luke didn't seem to hear her, maybe because her voice was too soft.

She clenched her teeth, forcing back the tears threatening to spill over, and repeated, "I didn't… hit her."

She hated how her voice trembled and how weak she sounded in front of him. But even if she showed her vulnerability, it was pathetic—because no one here would feel sorry for her.

Seraphine sobbed pitifully. "I don't know what I did to upset you, Daphne. If it's because Luke threw me a welcome party, you could've just told me. I would've knelt and apologized. But today's gathering was organized by our friends, and yet, you still slapped me. I really…"

Daphne shot up. "Drop the act!"

Her glare was sharp. "You're wasting your talent not going into acting. You grabbed my hand and hit yourself—there should be security cameras here. Should I pull up the footage to expose you?"

Seraphine froze for a split second, as if she hadn't expected her to mention surveillance cameras. Then, she started crying even harder. "Luke, you have to believe me. I'm not lying, I swear."

The staff at the club stood hesitantly by the door, too frightened by the scene to step in.

Daphne turned to one of them. "Go. Pull up the footage."

But the staffer didn't move. Instead, she shifted her gaze toward Luke, hesitated, and then lowered her head.

Daphne realized it then.

Of course. Luke and Seraphine were the actual guests here.

And she? To the staff, she was probably just a lunatic ruining someone else's good day.

So naturally, they wouldn't listen to her.

She turned to Luke. He was her last hope. "Luke, I didn't hit her. You know that. You saw her grabbing me…"

If they checked the footage, he would see the truth. He would see Seraphine for who she really was.

"No need."

"What?" This time, she was the one who couldn't believe what she'd heard.

"No need to check. I believe Seraphine."

The staff let out a quiet sigh of relief. Before leaving, one of them even shot her a look—disgusted, contemptuous.

That look stripped her bare, as if she'd been thrown, naked, into the middle of a crowded street. Humiliation crawled over her skin.

A strange numbness took over her mind. Her throat was parched, as if it didn't belong to her anymore.

"You believe her… which means you don't believe me?"

Luke didn't look at her. "You shouldn't have come today. Go home."

And suddenly, she understood.

Of course, he knew the truth. He was smart—too smart not to see through Seraphine's act.

But he didn't want to. He didn't want to call Seraphine out.

Even if it meant letting her bear all the blame.

Was this love? Was this what it meant to love someone deeply?

Did Luke love Seraphine that much?

She turned to Seraphine, who was smiling again—a victorious, gleeful smile.

It stung. The sight of it made her eyes ache.

At that moment, she wanted to cry. But no matter how hard she tried, the tears wouldn't come.

She wasn't even sure how she left. She vaguely remembered the driver offering to take her home. She had refused.

She wandered aimlessly for what felt like forever, until pain shot up from the soles of her feet.

A raindrop struck her cheek.

The downpour came fast, too fast for her to find shelter. In seconds, she was drenched.

The sky turned misty, and the streets became empty.

Cars rushed past, sending waves of water splashing against her.

The scent of damp earth filled her nose. Her stomach churned.

She crouched down in the rain, dry-heaving.

Thankfully, the rain was heavy.

No one could see just how pathetic she looked.

That night, Luke didn't come home.

Daphne's phone was flooded with messages from him. Not a single one showed concern—only blame.

[Daphne, Seraphine was admitted to the hospital with angina because of you. Get a gift and apologize now!]

[Daphne, you're not an unreasonable or selfish girl. Don't make me disappointed in you!]

[Daphne, answer me! I'll wait until tonight. Don't make me come back and drag you here myself!]

Luke came home at ten.

He stormed in, his expression dark, and yanked Daphne off the bed with a rough grip. His face was ice cold.

"Why didn't you reply?" His voice was sharp, demanding. "Get up. You're coming with me to the hospital to apologize."

"I'm not going. I didn't hit her."

Daphne struggled, trying to pull her hand free, but the difference in strength between them was too great. There was no way she could break away.

"You never used to treat me like this… But ever since Seraphine came back, you've changed."

No matter what happened before, he had always taken her side. If she made mistakes, he took the blame for her. He couldn't even bear to scold her. But now? Everything was different.

Luke hesitated, just for a second. Deep down, he knew he had changed. He knew he shouldn't be treating her this way. But when it came to Seraphine, he couldn't control himself.

He didn't want Seraphine to suffer—not even a little.

That evening at the hospital, he had listened to Seraphine recount the hardships she had endured overseas. It had been too much, too painful.

And this time, Daphne was undeniably in the wrong.

"I get that you're jealous," he said, "but since you hit her, you have to apologize."

"I didn't. She grabbed my hand and hit herself with it."

Luke frowned, thinking back to what he had seen. "Daphne, I was right there. I saw it with my own eyes. Even if I called your brother right now, he'd tell you to apologize. Now, come with me."

In the end, Daphne was dragged into the car and taken to Seraphine's hospital room.

Inside, Seraphine was lying on the hospital bed, casually scrolling through her phone. When she saw Daphne, a triumphant smirk flickered across her lips.

"Apologize."

Daphne turned her head away, lips pressed into a tight line. Stubborn. Silent.

Seraphine sighed. "It's alright, Luke, it's not that big of a deal. Don't scare Daphne."

Daphne didn't want to see their little display of affection. She turned to leave, but before she could take a step, dizziness overtook her. The world spun.

She collapsed.

…

When Daphne woke up, she was still in the hospital. A doctor stood at her bedside.

She had suffered a miscarriage.

So… she had been pregnant with Luke's child?

But in that moment, all she felt was relief.

…

She was discharged two days later.

Maybe out of guilt, Luke never mentioned the apology again.

During her recovery, he barely left her side. He even put work on hold, sticking to her like a shadow.

It was something Daphne never could have imagined before.

One evening, he asked if there was anywhere she wanted to go.

She hesitated for a moment, then said, "I want to go hiking. You promised me a proper confession."

Back when they first got together, he had vowed to give her a real confession of love—standing at the highest point in the city, declaring it to the world.

But after they got together, he always found an excuse to put it off.

Too busy. Too much work.

She had always known the truth. It wasn't that he didn't want to say it. He just didn't want to say it to anyone but Seraphine.

Now, before she left, she wanted to hear it—just once. A late confession, fulfilling the dream of her twenty-year-old self.

Luke agreed immediately.

They packed their bags and drove to the base of the mountain.

Just as they were about to start their ascent, his phone rang.

He answered, listening for only a few seconds before his expression changed. Hesitation flashed across his face.

Then, he turned to her and said, "Sorry, Daphne…"

"You're not going, are you?" she cut in, her voice eerily calm.

Luke clenched his jaw, fighting off an inexplicable sense of unease, then gave a small nod.

And just like that, he left, headed somewhere far away, chasing after a love he had never let go of.

"Luke," she called out suddenly.

He paused for the briefest moment.

"Do you really have to go?"

He hesitated, but he didn't turn around.

Instead, he walked away, like a man rushing toward his destiny.