There's a tradition in the clan called bride heist. The groom has to infiltrate the bride's house in the middle of the night. There, he has to carry her on his back and rush for the exit while overcoming all the obstacles.

I've waited for Nicholas Tanner for three years. Finally, the night when he and his buddies infiltrate the courtyard of my house arrives.

Just as I'm about to bolt toward Nicholas, I hear him murmuring to the others in a low tone.

"When the chaos breaks out, go for Tricia. We can't let her marry that good-for-nothing from the next village. If that happens, she won't be able to leave the mountains ever again.

"As for Charlene, she's a wild and temperamental woman, so she'll definitely fight tooth and nail to stop anyone from abducting her. You all should protect yourselves."

Nicholas' buddies swap glances with each other

"I don't think this is a good idea, Nicholas. You and Charlene have already registered your marriage, after all. If she were to find out the truth, she'd definitely kick up a huge ruckus!"

"Let her be," Nicholas replies casually. "It's way too dark for us to see anything during the bride heist anyway, so it's completely normal if we get the wrong bride. I'll just coax Charlene later if she gets mad at me.

"Besides, y'all know that the marriage certificate is a fake one. I've already promised Tricia that I'll secure a residential slot for her in Capworth. Unfortunately, Charlene will have to bear with the grievances for now."

I overhear every single word in the conversation behind the door. Instead of throwing a tantrum, I retreat back into my room quietly.

Nicholas and his buddies think that I'll cause a huge ruckus and beat up the people involved in the bride heist once I find out that the groom is another man. But I just quietly recline on that man's back and become the bride of the other bride heist team.

"Charlene, my friend, Shawna Wagner, who works at the marriage registry office, helped me look into it, and you are definitely not Nicholas' spouse," Verna Dailey, my friend, said.

I put down my phone. Something in my chest quietly shattered.

Nicholas Tanner and I had been married for five years. But no matter what I did during those five years, his parents could never accept me.

His mother, Irene Barnes, never mentioned my name in front of outsiders. Instead, she'd only call me "that woman from the mountains".

At family banquets, I was always seated in the most peripheral spot. In group photos, I was always placed on the edge, so that I could be easily cropped out if needed.

Nicholas didn't want me to feel slighted, so he had me return to the village first. He told me to wait until he had followed my family custom—after the bride heist and all the rituals were completed—then he would properly bring me back to live with him.

Thus, I obediently returned.

Even though we spent more time apart than together, to outsiders, we seemed loving and harmonious.

After three years of waiting—of holding back words I longed to say and pinning everything on that night—he came for another woman.

He fooled me with a fake marriage certificate for three years, just to keep me from discovering that the one he truly intended to steal away was my stepsister, Tricia Melton.

I looked at the expressionless woman in the mirror, not knowing whether I felt joy or sorrow.

Soon, noise erupted in the yard. The bride heist had begun.

Voices called out, "They're here! They're here!" Laughter rang through the air. Footsteps scuffled past in a hurry, while some made a point of standing in the way.

The torchlight lit up half the sky in red. The celebration belonged to them—and to Tricia.

The other group was the bride heist team from the neighboring village. They had originally come to seize Tricia.

According to custom, if the woman was unwilling, she could've slipped away long before and let them come all this way for nothing. However, Tricia didn't.

She'd been waiting inside the room the whole time, waiting to be taken. And the one she was waiting for was my husband, Nicholas.

The room I was in now wasn't the one I usually stayed in; it belonged to Tricia instead.

My stepmother, Patty Parish, called me over that afternoon. She took my hand and, with a rare gentleness, said, "Charlene, during the bride heist tonight, stay here in Tricia's room.

"Your room is further inside and quieter, making it harder for the heist crew to find. But the group that is coming for Tricia? They're thugs. You've been tough since you were a child, so you can take a beating—unlike Tricia, who's frail. It would be terrible if she got hurt by mistake."

I didn't say a single word, because I knew exactly what she meant.

According to the village custom, during the bride heist, the groom's friend would charge in first to seize the bride.

The bride was supposed to resist, struggle, and fight with everything she had to keep from being carried off. This was called "the tussle".

The fiercer the tussle and the harder she fought, the more it proved her worth.

The groom's side had to give it everything they got to carry her away. The fists flew, the shoves were real, and every blow found its mark.

Patty sighed, looking as though she were about to speak from the heart. She studied my face cautiously and said, "Besides, Nicholas is Ashvarian, so he's not familiar with our customs. If you stay in the front room, it'll save him from having to tear the whole house apart looking for you."

Back then, to make things easier for Nicholas, I agreed to Patty's suggestion. I had even sent him a text with the location of my room. But little did I know, they'd been planning this switcheroo all along.

A sudden uproar erupted outside, louder than before.

Someone shouted, "We got her! We got her! The bride's been taken!"

People laughed, voices egged them on, and party poppers exploded in a staccato clatter.

I cocked my head and listened for a moment, but I remained where I was.

I knew who they had seized.

I could even picture Nicholas stumbling and charging through the crowd with Tricia on his back, his friends flanking him on both sides.

People deliberately blocked their way, some throwing things at them.

Tricia buried her face against his back, pretending to struggle a little.

How nice.

I lowered my eyes and didn't look.

Before long, the door to my room was slammed open.

A crowd surged in from the darkness, footsteps heavy and chaotic.

Someone grabbed my arm. Fists and hands came at me from all directions.

I felt the blows land on my shoulders and back, neither gentle nor brutal. That was the custom of the tussle.

The more intense the bride's beating, the more it showed how reluctant her family was to let her go, and the harder the groom’s side had to fight to take her away.

I didn't dodge or fight back. Instead, I let them push me around, haul me off my stool, and land their blows whenever they pleased.

At first, it seemed like they were just going through the motions. But soon, the shoving took on a different tone.

Someone grabbed my arm and slammed me into the wall, while another drove punch after punch into my lower back. The blows were hard and solid, nothing like the customary tussle.

This was on purpose.

It hurt terribly, but I made no sound. I understood now what Patty meant when she said that I'd been tough since I was a child.

Just when I thought it would go on, someone stepped in front of me and shouted, "Enough!"

It was an unfamiliar voice, full of anger.

He stood before me, using his arms to ward off those still trying to rush forward.

"Knock it off! You're hitting too hard! She's a person, not a punching bag!"

Someone laughed sheepishly and explained, "Dude, this is the custom. The harder the tussle, the more precious the bride—"

"Custom my foot!" His voice shot up sharply. "Easy for you to say—she's not your wife! Are you telling me that you'd just stand there and watch if somebody was pounding on her like that?"

The room fell silent for a moment.

The stranger glanced back at me. In the dim light, I couldn't make out his face—only a vague silhouette. Then, he bent down and lifted me onto his back.

Behind us, someone still muttered, "Who's this hothead? It's only a bride heist. Why is he taking it so seriously?"

He strode out with me on his back. Some chased after us, some deliberately blocked the way, and some threw things at us.

His stride was quick and steady. One hand gripped the back of my knee, holding me secure in place so I wouldn't fall.

When we crossed the first mountain ridge, he stopped to catch his breath.

In the distance, torchlight flickered and swayed. It was the other bride heist party.

Through the bushes, I could faintly hear their laughter and chatter drifting over.

Before long, they drew closer. The torchlight flickered and lit up a few faces. At the very front, a man was carrying a woman on his back. He was drenched in sweat from running, yet he was smiling.

It was none other than Nicholas.

On his back, Tricia had her face buried in the curve of his neck, with both arms wrapped around him.

They were laughing and teasing each other.

The friends followed behind them egged them on.

"Kiss the bride! Kiss the bride!"

I lay on the stranger's back, quietly watching them draw near.

The torchlight flickered across my face.

Nicholas' gaze swept over and paused on me for just a moment, then slid past. He went back to laughing and joking with his friends.

Tricia leaned close to Nicholas' ear, cooing softly. He tilted his head to listen, his smile so tender that it stung my eyes.

My mind suddenly drifted back to three years ago, to when I'd returned to the village to visit my father, Joseph Melton, and had been staying at home for a few days.

The first time Nicholas came to the village looking for me, he had worn that same smile.

That day, he crossed two mountains. The soles of his shoes were worn through, the backs of his heels seeping blood.

I asked, "Don't your feet hurt?"

He scratched his head and grinned. "Of course not. For you, I'd gladly do anything."

He had grown up pampered and waited on his whole life. And yet, for me, he was willing to trek into these remote mountains.

He always said the journey wasn't far. But I knew the bus from town to the village only went as far as the foot of the mountain. The rest of the way was all on foot.

Once, when it rained, he showed up at the gate completely drenched. Yet, the bag of pastry he carried tucked against his chest was still dry.

I scolded him for being foolish, for coming even in the rain.

He pressed the bag into my hands, smiled, and said, "I didn't want you to get tired of waiting."

As I held the bag and stared at his dripping wet hair, I knew that he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

But now, he was carrying Tricia on his back with the same smile he'd worn back then.

My vision blurred for a moment, then sharpened again just as quickly.

When had things started to change?

Probably around the time Dad passed away three years ago.

Back then, I'd felt like my entire soul had been hollowed out.

Nicholas had cleared his entire schedule and stayed with me in the village for half a month.

The day he had to leave, Nicholas took my hand and said gently, "Charlene, the funeral just ended, and you look so pale. My mother is bound to nag if she sees you like this. I don't want you to have to take that.

"Stay in the village for now. Rest and take care of your health. Haven't you always wanted to take over the family business? Once I go back and smooth things over, I'll come get you."

I looked at him and nodded.

I was completely done with the whole in-law situation. No matter what I did, it never got better.

At the time, I trusted that he had my best interest at heart, that he couldn't stand the thought of me returning to suffer Mrs. Tanner's scorn.

It was only later that I learned that distance didn't breed fondness. Instead, it simply made it more convenient for him to cheat behind my back.

Last year, when Mrs. Tanner celebrated her 60th birthday, Nicholas came to bring me back to the city.

The moment I walked in, I saw Tricia, who had supposedly gone to the city to work. She was in the living room helping with the fruit arrangements, her movements practiced and familiar.

Nicholas paused while changing his shoes and explained, "Tricia's workplace is close to our home, so she's staying here for now."

He showed no sign of guilt, and I said nothing more.

When Patty married Dad and brought Tricia along, both Tricia and I were already quite grown. There wasn't much affection between us to begin with. And over the years, we'd only seen each other during the holidays.

I didn't know what to feel about the fact that she was living here.

When she saw me come in, Tricia called out warmly, "Hey, Charlene. Don't overthink it. I'm just staying for a bit. I'll move out as soon as I find a place."

I nodded and said nothing in reply.

Back then, it never crossed my mind that I, the wife, would spend three years alone in the village, while Tricia spent those same three years living with the Tanner family under the pretense of working in the city.

Now, as I watched Tricia cling to Nicholas' back, realization suddenly dawned on me. All along, I hadn't been waiting for him to take me home or to carry out the bride heist—I had been waiting to give him up for good.

Voice drifted over on the night breeze, growing clearer and clearer.

It was Tricia's voice.

"What are you going to do about Charlene? If she finds out, she'll definitely raise hell."

"She talks tough, but she's actually a softie," Nicholas replied firmly. "Once she's done kicking up a fuss, it'll blow over. Besides…"

He paused and lowered his voice. "It was pitch dark during the bride heist, so I could be forgiven for making a mistake.

"In fact, she'll be too busy feeling sorry for me to blame me. When she finds out, I'll sweet-talk her, and it'll be fine."

Tricia chuckled softly, while I clenched my fists so hard that my knuckles turned white.

One of Nicholas' friends, Alan Bush, suddenly spoke up. "Nicholas, what if someone else takes Charlene away?"

There was a moment of silence on their side.

Then, Nicholas laughed and said, "You think she'd just let someone take her without putting up a fight? Knowing her temper, she'd have torn the place apart by now."

"That's true. Given her personality, there's no way Charlene wouldn't kick up a storm."

"I honestly feel sorry for that groom. I wonder how badly he's been beaten up."

The laughter grew even louder.

I lowered my eyes and said, "Let's go."

The man carrying me was very quiet. In fact, he hadn't said a single word since earlier.

Lying on his back, I could feel his steady, even footsteps. They belonged to those who'd traversed countless roads at night.

He must have realized that the one they were laughing about—the one who would tear the place apart—was me. Yet, he just kept walking without saying anything.

At the bend, we came face-to-face with the other group.

The torchlight flickered toward us, and someone on the other side spoke first. "Brad Rangel?"

Brad stopped and gave a curt, "That's right."

Nicholas, still carrying Tricia on his back, drew closer. With a grin, he sized him up and said, "It really is you. Are you doing a bride heist tonight, too? Whose daughter is this?"

Nicholas' gaze swept over and landed on me.

I buried my face in the crook of Brad's neck, leaving only the back of my head turned toward Nicholas.

"A family from the neighboring village," Brad replied flatly.

Nicholas stared at me for another moment, then suddenly laughed. "Well, look at you! You always seemed so unapproachable, so I really thought you weren't the marrying type. Congrats!"