That night, Charles and Ivy walked in together.

"Here, Serena."

Charles handed me a black velvet box without any wrapping. Inside lay a thin diamond bracelet. The giveaway piece.

Around Ivy's neck gleamed the ruby necklace. The main piece. The blood-red gem pierced my eyes. My fingers paused for just a moment.

On our first anniversary, I had once admired a ruby necklace in a shop window. Charles pulled me away. "Too flashy. You'd look like a nouveau riche."

It wasn't that the ruby was flashy. It was that I was the wrong person to wear it.

"See? Charles is such a typical man. He didn't even wrap it," Ivy said, touching the ruby at her throat. "But the diamond bracelet really suits you. You don't go out much anyway. Anything more would be wasted."

I closed the cheap black box. "You're right. It would be wasted on me."

Charles looked at me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He must have noticed how quiet I was tonight.

But Ivy had already settled onto the sofa. She pulled out the wedding itinerary from her limited-edition bag.

"By the way, I swapped the main wedding car for a Porsche convertible tomorrow. I get carsick easily. Charles said the fresh air would help. You don't mind, do you?"

My wedding. The car changed for the bridesmaid.

I looked at the suitcase by the door. "Do whatever you want."

Charles followed my gaze and saw the old suitcase, the one I had brought when we first moved in together.

"Are you going on a business trip?" He frowned. "The wedding is tomorrow."

Before I could answer, a sharp gasp.

Ivy's water glass crashed onto the carpet. "Charles, I'm sorry..." She clutched her chest. "I suddenly feel dizzy."

Charles's face changed instantly. "Did you catch a chill outside? Is your heart acting up again?"

His voice was full of worry and tenderness.

My words died in my throat.

I looked at the shattered glass on the carpet. Our couple cups. Last year, Charles gave Ivy a whole set of Italian handmade porcelain. I asked him if there was anything in our relationship that belonged only to me. He frowned and called me petty.

Then he bought these two mugs. The only real comfort he had ever given me. Mine had a cartoon of my face. Now it was broken.

"I've told you not to drink cold water. How many times do I have to say it?" Charles scolded Ivy, his face stern but his eyes soft with concern.

Last winter, I ran a fever of 104. I could barely stand. Charles only said: "Drink some water, take your medicine, and sleep it off. You'll be fine tomorrow."

Now Ivy had only dropped a glass. And he acted like it was an emergency.

Ivy leaned against him, looking weak, and glanced at me. "Charles, the first dance at the wedding tomorrow... you really want to dance it with me? Won't Serena be angry?"

Charles patted her back. "You've dreamed of dancing a waltz in a wedding hall since you were a child. I promised you. I never break my promises. Serena is sensible. She's not the jealous type."

The first dance at my wedding. The groom would dance it with the bridesmaid.

I watched them, their bodies pressed together, and suddenly I laughed.

Charles saw the curve of my lips and seemed pleased with my "understanding." "I knew you'd get it. I've always treated Ivy like a little sister. I'm used to taking care of her."

Ivy snuggled closer into his arms. "Don't overthink it, Serena. I still remember when we were kids. I wanted to see fireworks, so Charles sneaked me out over the wall. His father made him kneel all night as punishment. And the first time I learned to dance, I fell and cried. He carried me all the way home."

She sighed. "We're just like brother and sister. You're so lucky, Serena. After tomorrow, you'll be the real Mrs. Hart."

Charles looked down at her indulgently. "Feeling better?"

Ivy wrapped her arms around his neck. "A little. Just a tiny little bit."

Charles's eyes softened. "All right. I'll carry you to your room to rest."

Then he finally remembered I was still standing there. "We have a wedding tomorrow. Go to bed early. I'll come back once Ivy is settled."

He carried Ivy upstairs, disappearing behind the master bedroom door.

The door closed, muffling the soft laughter inside.

I didn't go to my room. I walked calmly to my suitcase and tucked in the last of my documents.

As I zipped it shut, a violent cramp twisted my stomach.

I collapsed to the floor, cold sweat soaking through my clothes. I fumbled for my phone.

"Charles... I have a stomach cramp. It really hurts. I can't walk. Can you take me to the hospital?"

Two seconds of silence on the line. Then Ivy's nasal, sleepy voice: "Charles, my chest still feels tight..."

Charles's voice dropped low. "Serena, Ivy just recovered from her heart episode. She has a bad heart. She can't be left alone."

I curled on the carpet, the pain twisting like a knife in my gut. "I'm really in pain."

Another pause. Ivy whispered, "Charles, maybe you should go check on her..."

He cut her off. "Don't push yourself."

Then back to me: "Don't overthink it. Heart problems are dangerous. It's just a stomach ache. I'll call an ambulance for you right now."

He hung up.

I looked at the closed master bedroom door. From the living room to the stairs, only a dozen steps. But he wouldn't take them.

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. He still didn't come down.

I dragged myself along the wall, inch by inch, to the entrance.

The paramedics saw my pale face and rushed to help me.

The next time I opened my eyes, it was still dark outside. The smell of antiseptic filled my nose. A needle was taped to the back of my hand, cold fluid dripping slowly into my vein.

Charles walked in. Ivy followed.

She wore a white mini dress, his suit jacket draped over her shoulders. The ruby at her throat gleamed under the hospital lights.

Charles saw I was awake and seemed relieved. He came to the bedside and adjusted my IV bag, but he didn't speak.

I looked at him. The leftover pain in my stomach still throbbed.

But I felt strangely calm.

"Charles," I said. "I'm really looking forward to the surprise I prepared for you at the wedding."

"What surprise?" He looked at me with a flicker of anticipation, an expression I hadn't seen in a long time.

When we first started dating, I made him a birthday cake. The frosting was a mess. But he held it and stared at it for a long time. He said, "Serena, anything you make for me, I love."

Back then, he really did see me.

I wasn't wrong about him then. He just changed.

Now, as I watched that rare glimmer of hope in his eyes, I started to speak.

Ivy leaned in. "What surprise? Serena, did you prepare a gift too?"

I didn't answer.

The nurse came to remove my IV. A bead of blood welled up where the needle came out. Charles glanced at it. For a second, something almost like remorse crossed his face.

"The wedding is about to start. Get some rest."

The door closed.

I peeled off the medical tape.

Half an hour later, I was back at the villa.

The bluebell fragrance hit me first, cloying, thick.

The welcome gifts and bouquet from the wedding planner sat in the living room. Champagne-colored ribbons draped down the staircase. Every detail was Ivy's taste.

I dragged my suitcase upstairs. The master bedroom door was ajar.

No Charles. No Ivy. Wherever he had gone to "rest," it wasn't here.

Ivy's shawl lay on the bed. Her lipstick and earrings were scattered across the vanity.

My wedding room. Like a hotel she had lived in for years.

I didn't look again.

I opened the drawer and took out the wedding ring Charles had given me. A thin band. He had said, "A wedding ring is just a formality. No need to be flashy."

Ivy's ruby necklace could have bought fifty of these rings.

I set the ring next to the diamond bracelet gift.

Then I placed the villa keys, the access card, and the wedding itinerary on the coffee table.

Finally, I picked up the invitation card. The bride's name had already been changed to Ivy Sterling.

I took a black pen and wrote one line in the blank space: "Wishing you both a happy wedding."

I clicked the pen shut. The sound was soft, like a lock turning.

My phone buzzed. A message from Charles.

I didn't read it. I blocked him.

At the door, I looked back one last time. This house had never really been mine.

At the airport, check-in, security, everything went smoothly.

I turned off my phone. Cut off the past.