So, over the past three years, I hadn't just been a shield for the two of them; I'd been the silent vessel carrying the weight of their so-called love.

Footsteps echoed quickly from the hallway. I folded the design sketch without hesitation and slipped it into the hidden compartment of the suitcase.

Moments later, the door creaked open. Isabella's eyes flicked toward the suitcase, anxiety flashing across her face.

"Hubby, you didn't see anything, did you?"

I looked at her calmly, wearing a mask of confusion.

"See what?"

She gave a sheepish laugh, trying too hard to sound light.

"Oh, nothing. Let me help you pack."

Once the luggage was zipped shut, she clung to me at the doorway like a child afraid of the dark, dragging out the farewell with misty eyes and soft pleas. Only after her tearful performance did she finally walk away.

As soon as the door closed behind her, I slipped off the ring and placed it gently into its box. The pale impression it left on my finger stared back at me like a quiet wound.

It's alright, I told myself. All scars fade with time, some slower than others.

Not long after Isabella left, her mother showed up unannounced.

The moment she spoke, her words knocked the breath out of me.

"River, are you suddenly planning to leave because of Dash?"

I couldn't bring myself to say yes, but I didn't have it in me to say no either.

My silence seemed to weigh heavier than any words could. Her sigh, long and weary, sounded even more burdened than Vincent's had ever been.

"To be honest," she began softly, "we owe you an apology."

She looked away, her voice laced with guilt.

"Three years ago, her father and I started noticing how close Isabella and Dash had become. It is too close, closer than siblings should be. So we thought, maybe if someone else came into the picture, it'd shift things back to where they should've been."

She paused for a breath as though the memory itself drained her.

"They're not blood-related, but they grew up under the same roof. And if we'd allowed those feelings to fester, forget the Moore Family's name, the rumours alone would've destroyed them. They were too young to understand what love really means."

"That's why we pushed you to marry Isabella. Even when Dash ran off in anger, we let him go. We thought it was the only way to help them let go of those feelings."

She looked at me then, eyes rimmed with regret.

"These past three years, watching you and Isabella, seeing how you treated her like she was your whole world, we really believed we'd made the right choice. But now Dash is back and it's like everything we tried to bury is clawing its way up again."

As she spoke, she reached out and gently took my hand. Her palm was warm and steady as if trying to comfort both of us.

"River, you claim you never had feelings for Isabella. That might fool her father, but it doesn't fool me. The way you look at her, those eyes don't lie."

Her thumb brushed over the back of my hand and her voice dropped to something more tender.

"I honestly believe Isabella has feelings for you too. If she didn't, would she have treated you the way she did these past three years? Always shielding you, always thinking of you first? That kind of devotion doesn't come from nothing."

Just then, my phone buzzed twice, cutting through the stillness like a stone tossed into calm water.

I glanced at the screen. A message from Isabella lit it up like a flame that refused to die.

[Hubby, have you eaten? I miss you so much. Do you miss me?]

Samantha's eyes sparkled as she caught a glimpse. Her smile widened.

"See? Didn't I tell you? She does care for you more than you think."

Before her voice even faded into silence, a notification lit up my screen.

It was a social media post, an update from Dash's alternate account.

[Damn weather! I finally got to take my beloved sister to see the cherry blossoms. What happened? The sky tricks them into blooming early, only for them to fall within three days. We missed it completely. So heartbroken!]

The photo attached stung more than the words: two hands intertwined beneath a rain-kissed cherry blossom tree, its petals already scattered like broken promises.

Samantha's face darkened the moment she saw it. Her eyes locked onto the screen and froze on the delicate watch and wedding ring wrapped around Isabella's wrist.

"This wicked girl…"

I didn't speak. What was the point? Scenes like these had become a routine, repeated enough to numb me.

She let out a sigh that carried the weight of too many regrets.

"River, if you truly want to leave. I won't stand in your way. But at least give Isabella and yourself one last chance."

I stayed quiet. But somewhere deep in my mind, a memory stirred.

The first spring of our marriage, Isabella had once taken me across provinces, just to chase the cherry blossoms.

She once told me that people online believed that if you truly loved someone, you should take them to see the most breathtaking cherry blossoms. That way, the image of that person beneath the blooms would be etched into your heart forever, never to fade, never to be replaced.

That day, the skies were clear, the breeze just right. She stood under the blossoming canopy, her hand reaching out to me, her smile brighter than spring itself.

My heart skipped a beat. I reached out without thinking, drawn to her as naturally as breath to lungs.

I didn't know if I'd ever made it into her heart that day. But she had already carved herself deep into mine.

While I stood adrift in the memory, Samantha's voice kept echoing at the edge of my awareness. Her words blurred until suddenly, a sentence yanked me back to the present.

"In the face of life and death, true feelings always surface. Your father-in-law and I are planning a little trip at sea for the four of you. There'll be a staged accident, just a brief moment where you and Dash fall overboard. But don't worry, we'll have professional divers standing by. No one will actually get hurt."

"If Isabella chooses to save you, then you stay. Become the cherished son-in-law of our family. But if she chooses Dash, our divers will pull you out quietly. From that moment on, she'll believe you drowned and we'll bless her and Dash."

I stood there for a long moment, frozen like stone, before finally giving a slow nod.

After Samantha left, I drifted into the bedroom. My hand reached for a book on the shelf, worn from years of rereading. Slipped between the pages was an old photo, one I hadn't dared look at in a while.

In it, Isabella tilted her head toward me, her smile as radiant as spring sunshine. Her eyes sparkled with joy, unaware of the storm that would someday come.

As for me, I looked straight into the lens. A stiff smile tugged at my lips, but my eyes betrayed me. There was fear in them, nerves I hadn't known how to hide.

My gaze lowered to the quote printed faintly in the corner, once my favorite line:

"Anyone standing under the cherry tree looks beautiful; my love burns brightly for whoever stands there."

But now, that line felt like a cruel joke written just for me.

I picked up the photo, closed the book with quiet finality and stepped into the study. The shredder whirred to life. I let the photo slip from my fingers, watching it vanish into ribbons.

Ten days later, Isabella was called home under the guise of a family dinner.

To keep things discreet, she and Dash didn't even arrive together; they slipped into the house separately, like strangers pretending they weren't bound by secrets.

The moment she laid eyes on me, Isabella rushed into my arms without a second's hesitation.

"Honey, I missed you so much. These days apart on that business trip were unbearable."

I lifted a hand between us, quietly stopping her. "Be more proper. Mom and Dad are watching."

Only then did she reluctantly loosen her grip, though her fingers still clung to mine like a lifeline.

Only God knew how long Dash had been standing by the door. He finally walked in, eyes sharp with cold disdain. He brushed past us with a scoff, his presence colder than the sea breeze.

Isabella frowned. "Honey, don't mind him. My brother's just childish."

I nodded with a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.

Of course, I didn't take it seriously. I didn't need to, not anymore.

During dinner, Vincent casually brought up the idea of a boat trip after the meal. Neither Isabella nor Dash had any objections.

As we stood on the pier, right before stepping aboard the yacht, I looked down at Isabella's hand in mine. That question, the one I'd buried deep, finally rose to the surface.

"If Dash and I both fell into the sea," I asked softly, "who would you save first?"

She turned back with a playful smile and tapped the tip of my nose.

"Of course, I'd save my husband. My brother can swim just fine."

I smiled, though something inside me tightened.

Isabella, liars always paid the price.

The yacht sailed steadily into deeper waters, its wake vanishing beneath the endless blue.

On the first level, Vincent and Isabella were fishing, their laughter occasionally drifting up with the sea breeze. I made my way to the second deck, letting the wind brush across my face as I stared into the vast, shimmering horizon. Our destination was getting closer.

Then came a voice behind me, sharp as a knife.

"River, that question you asked Isabella before we boarded. I wanted to know the answer, too. So, go to hell!"

I had barely turned around before a force slammed into my back.

He shoved me hard over the railing.

The sea swallowed me whole.

Moments later, I heard a splash; he had jumped in after me.

"Help!" Dash's voice pierced the air as he surfaced first, shouting toward the yacht.

I barely managed to break through the surface, coughing and flailing in the waves, only to be met with a brutal kick straight to my chest.

The saltwater burned my throat. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs.

The moment pain seared through my chest, my mouth opened against my will and seawater rushed in like punishment. I choked and coughed, but it only dragged me deeper into the abyss.

Just as I fought to rise, another weight pressed down and someone stepped on my shoulder, shoving me farther beneath the surface. My limbs flailed weakly. By the time I managed to break through the waves again, I had already drifted far from the yacht.

From above, I vaguely heard Samantha's panicked voice ring out.

"Isabella! Hurry! Save River, he can't swim!"

I saw her dive into the water without hesitation.

But she swam straight toward Dash.

He clung to her shoulder like a lifeline, panic smeared across his face.

"Isabella, my leg is cramped! Please, save me first, okay?"

She glanced toward me just once, her eyes flickering with hesitation.

Then she gritted her teeth and turned away, dragging Dash back to the boat.

"River, hold on! I'll save my brother first, then I'll come back for you!"

But I had already gulped down too much water. My limbs were heavy and numb. The strength to hold on was slipping through my fingers like wet sand.

After hauling Dash aboard, she didn't dive back in right away.

Instead, Dash clung tightly to her hand, refusing to let go.

"Isabella, don't leave me. I'm scared."

Watching the two of them wrestle on deck, I felt my limbs turn to lead. I couldn't move. The cold wrapped around me like chains, dragging me downward.

As the seawater crept over my lips, a strange, ridiculous thought floated to the surface of my fading mind:

‘If someone saves me now, I'll marry into her family, willingly, as their live-in son-in-law.’

And just like that, a wave slammed into me, silencing the thought.

The tide carried me farther and my vision blurred as the sea swallowed me whole.