“Of course I remember.”

Ronald laughed at her playfulness：

“You weighed, what, barely a hundred pounds back then? And you carried me on your back when I was a hundred and forty, huffing and puffing the whole way. I remember thinking, does this girl have a crush on me or what?”

Hope's cheeks flushed. She reached over and pressed her hand against his mouth.

“Oh, please! Nobody but Millie would ever look twice at you. Don't flatter yourself. I only helped because she's my best friend!”

“What's there to worry about? Millie's not an outsider.”

Ronald caught her hand and held it, then turned to me：

“Right, Millie? The three of us have been close for so many years. We're practically family.”

I tugged at the corners of my mouth. Said nothing.

Love doesn't turn into family.

The moment a lover becomes family,

the lover's place is left empty.

They sat there in front of me, shamelessly sharing memories that belonged only to the two of them.

Their ski trip to Aspen last winter.

The concert they went to together last month.

The cat they adopted together, the one they named “Mochi.”

That cat. Ronald told me it belonged to a friend who needed someone to look after it.

And because I was allergic to cat hair, he never once let me come see it.

“I'm not feeling well. I'm going to head out.”

I grabbed my bag and left.

Ronald called after me：

“Millie, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick? Want Hope to go with you?”

I didn't look back：

“No need. Just focus on getting better.”

“Hope, take care of him for me.”

“Don't worry, Millie! I'll take great care of him!”

Hope's voice couldn't quite hide how happy she was.

I walked out of the room, leaned against the hallway wall, and gulped for air.

The tears finally came.

I took out my phone and scrolled to a number I'd never saved but knew by heart.

It belonged to the man my mother had been trying to set me up with. Percival Henson, heir to the Henson Group.

My mother said that if I agreed to marry Percival, the Hensons would invest enough to pull our family through the crisis.

I'd always refused.

I told her I loved Ronald, that I wanted to marry for love.

Now that felt like a joke.

He picked up after three rings.

A low, resonant voice came through the line：

“Ms. Pruitt? I didn't expect you to call me first.”

I took a deep breath, forcing my voice steady：

“Mr. Henson, the marriage arrangement you proposed. I accept.”

A pause on his end.

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“The date will be June eighteenth.”

The same date Ronald and I had settled on for our wedding.

Percival didn't ask why：

“Done. I'll take care of everything. My assistant will send the contract over tomorrow.”

“No need to send it to me. Send it directly to my father. He handles the business side.”

“Thank you.”

“No need for thanks. The pleasure is mine.”

After I hung up, I deleted every photo of Ronald from my phone.

When it was done, I lifted my head.

Sunlight pooled at the far end of the hallway.

My heart was still.

The day Ronald was discharged, I went to pick him up.

The moment he saw me, his face lit up：

“Millie! I thought you were mad at me. I figured you wouldn't come.”

Even though he assumed I was upset, he hadn't sent a single message in all those days.

When someone cares, it's hard to hide.

When they don't, that's hard to hide too.

I pulled my lips into a smile：

“Why wouldn't I? I'm your fiancée. Of course I came.”

Ronald pulled me into a hug, voice thick with emotion：

“Millie, you're so good to me. I swear I'll treat you right from now on. I'll never let anyone hurt you again.”

I let him hold me.

My body was stiff, my limbs ice-cold.

Over the next few days, I threw myself into the wedding preparations as planned.

Six months of planning meant most things were already locked in. What remained was just loose ends.

Ronald was by my side every day, agreeable to a fault.

He remembered I hated cilantro.

He held my hand when we walked.

He rubbed my shoulders when I was tired.

He played the part so well.

So well that sometimes I almost wondered if those messages had just been a nightmare.

Until the night before the wedding.

Ronald took a phone call, then turned to me with an apologetic smile：

“Millie, my buddies want to throw me a bachelor party. You know, celebrate me finally tying the knot.”

“I'll probably be back late, so don't wait up. After the wedding, your husband will make it up to you double.”

I raised an eyebrow, my expression perfectly calm：

“Oh? Are there friends of yours I haven't met? Why can't I come along?”

Ronald grabbed his jacket and threw it over his shoulders, his gaze sliding away from mine：

“Come on, it's all guys. We're just gonna drink and hang out, blow off some steam.”

“If you're there, everyone'll be on their best behavior. It defeats the whole purpose. After the ceremony tomorrow, we'll all celebrate together properly.”

I looked down, making one last check on the invitation list, the corner of my mouth lifting by a fraction no one would notice.

“Is that so? What about Hope? She mentioned she had plans tonight too.”

Something shifted in Ronald's face.

“Her……that's probably just a coincidence. You know me, I barely talk to other women.”

I smiled：

“Go ahead, then. Come home early. Don't drink too much.”

“Thanks, babe! You're the best, seriously!”

Ronald leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

Then he pretended to take another call and hurried downstairs.

I stood by the window and watched him get into a cab.

Then I picked up my bag and hailed one of my own.

“Follow that car.”

The cab trailed his all the way to the most popular bar downtown.

Ronald got out and walked straight up to the second-floor VIP lounge.

I followed, stopping just outside the door.

It wasn't fully closed. Music and cheering poured through the gap, loud enough to rattle my teeth.

I looked through the crack.

The lounge was packed, men and women both.

Ronald sat in the center of the main couch. Hope was pressed against his side, her head resting on his shoulder.

Everyone had gathered around them, glasses raised.

“Congrats, Ron! You're finally getting rid of that nightmare Millicent!”

“Now you and Hope can be together out in the open!”

“To Ron and Hope! Happily ever after! And babies soon!”

Ronald laughed and raised his glass：

“Thanks, boys! Once the wedding's over tomorrow, dinner's on me!”

“Deal!”

They all drained their glasses in one go.

Someone suggested a round of Truth or Dare.

The bottle spun once and landed on Ronald.

The crowd started chanting：

“Truth! Truth!”

Ronald smiled, looking like he was having the time of his life：

“Go for it.”

“Ron, who's the woman you love most in this life?”

The whole room went quiet.

Ronald turned to look at Hope beside him, his eyes so tender they could melt.

“The woman I love most in this life is Hope.”

“From the very first time I saw her, three years ago, standing by the ocean in a white dress, I was gone.”

“Being with Millicent was never about love. She could get me investors. She could help me build the studio.”

“I never had feelings for her. Not once. But I'll give her this: she was useful. Five years of playing boyfriend? Consider the debt paid.”

Hope ducked her head shyly and nestled against Ronald's chest.

The lounge erupted in cheers.

The bottle spun again and landed on Ronald a second time.

“Truth again!”

“Dude, how is your luck this bad? That's three in a row.”

Ronald laughed, pulling Hope closer by the waist, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“I used up all my luck a long time ago.”

“Spent every last bit of it meeting Hope.”

“Ohhh!!”

The whole room screamed.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Over the deafening chant, Ronald tilted Hope's chin up and kissed her.

They kissed like no one else existed, slow and deep, neither willing to pull away.

Hope's hand slipped beneath the collar of his shirt.

His fingers traced lazy circles on the small of her back.

The energy in the lounge climbed higher and higher.

Someone whistled. Someone else pulled out a phone and started snapping pictures.

I stood outside the door, frozen to the bone.

Like the ground had opened and swallowed me whole.

So that was what five years of love meant. Five years of giving everything I had.

To him, it was nothing but a transaction he could exploit.

The love I thought we shared had never existed. Not from the start. Not for a single day.

All of it was a one-woman show, and I was the only one in the audience.

I turned and walked out of the bar without a sound.

The clock struck midnight.

On the morning of the wedding, Ronald was up by seven.

He called me over and over. Every call went straight to voicemail.

Then he started calling my family. My friends.

No one knew where I was.

He paced in circles outside the hotel entrance, panic setting in.

Everyone was mobilized, searching every corner of the hotel for me.

Floor by floor, from the lobby to the twenty-third story, from the guest rooms to the kitchen.

Not a trace.

Ten minutes until the ceremony.

The officiant was drenched in sweat：

“Mr. Harding, what do we do? Every guest is already seated.”

Ronald's face went white.

He knew that if this wedding fell apart today, he would become the laughingstock of the entire city.

And every investor who had come to Harding Studio because of the Pruitt name would pull out for good.

That was when a hotel attendant came running over.

“Mr. Harding, I saw Ms. Pruitt!”

Ronald seized the man's arm：

“Where?”

“She's……she's in the ballroom next door.”

“There's another wedding happening today, and the bride looks like Ms. Pruitt!”

“What?”

Ronald couldn't believe what he was hearing.

He shoved the attendant aside and tore down the corridor toward the next ballroom.

Hope and the others scrambled after him.

The ballroom doors were shut.

Ronald drew a sharp breath and threw them open.