“Valencia Rowe… has someone wronged you?”

My brother’s voice carried a sharp note of worry, tinged with disbelief as he paused on the line. He must have sensed the tension in my tone, though I masked it with practiced indifference.

I forced a light laugh, though bitterness tightened around my throat like a vice. “No, I’m fine. I’ve just… come to a decision. If I’m getting married anyway, does it really matter to whom?”

“You’re certain?” His voice softened but remained insistent. “Valencia, if something’s troubling you, you can tell me. This sudden rush to marry—what changed? You never seemed so eager before.”

I hadn’t been eager. My heart had always belonged to Caleb. But after everything—the secrecy, the betrayal, the endless waiting—I knew I was nothing more than a placeholder now. A convenient substitute for someone else’s first choice. Living in that reality was unbearable.

“I told you,” I said, forcing a chuckle to cover the ache. “I’ve figured it out. And… I’m old enough now. Wait too long, and it may be too late for me to matter.”

“Don’t speak like that,” my brother scolded, his tone firm. “Anyway, I’ll have someone introduce you to the man arranged for you. Better to know him in person.”

“There’s no need,” I replied steadily, hiding the storm inside. “I trust Mom and Dad’s judgment. Even if it’s arranged, I’m sure the choice was made carefully.”

A quiet settled over the line. I heard his sigh, heavy with relief and lingering concern. My defiance years ago had unsettled the family, especially him. My return seemed to ease that worry, at least a little.

“I’m glad you’ve come to terms with it,” he said, voice softer now. “When will you return? Are you certain you don’t want to meet him before finalizing anything?”

“No,” I said sharply, practicality edging my tone. “The sooner we settle this, the sooner the family can move on. Prepare the ceremony. Let’s set it a month from now.”

“Understood,” he said, though his hesitation lingered. “By the way… do you still speak to Caleb? I heard Marina has returned. Maybe you should invite him—he might bring some… good fortune.”

His words froze me. So, he knew about Marina. No wonder Caleb had insisted on secrecy all these years.

I lowered my gaze, hiding the sharp sting in my chest. “Don’t bother him,” I muttered. “We’re… not close.”

At that moment, the soft click of the door unlocking reached my ears. I quickly ended the call, bracing myself.

When I looked up, Caleb was there. His smile was dazzling, his eyes alight with a brilliance that made my chest tighten. It wasn’t meant for me. It couldn’t be.

“Not close to who?” he asked, playful and curious.

“Not close to you,” I said bluntly, though my voice wavered under his gaze.

Caleb’s brow lifted. Before I could step back, he closed the distance and pulled me against him. Mischief danced in his grin, his breath warm against my ear.

“Really?” he murmured, low and teasing. “Then tell me… how exactly are we not close? Haven’t we shared enough to count, hmm?”

The intimacy that had once made my heart race now set it pounding with anxiety. I struggled gently in his hold, and then my eyes caught it—the faint smear of lipstick on his collar.

The burns on my wrist throbbed sharply, each pulse a reminder of betrayal I hadn’t healed from. Tears sprung unbidden, hot and unstoppable.

“Valencia… what happened?” Caleb’s voice shifted, panic replacing his usual confident lilt. He rolled up my sleeve, exposing the angry red marks on my skin.

Alarm flickered across his face. “When did this happen? How? Why didn’t you tell me?”

His concern seemed genuine, yet it only deepened the ache inside me. Had he truly forgotten the events at the banquet so easily?

I stayed silent, torn between shattering the mask of his affection with the truth or letting him continue pretending it was all normal.

“Alright, enough tears. I’ll handle this for you.”

He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, dabbed at the tears trailing down my cheeks, and pressed a soft kiss to my temple before standing to fetch a cooling compress, muttering to himself as he went.

“Look at you—so independent, yet still flinching at every little pain. Always crying. What would you do if I weren’t here?”

I stared blankly at the angry red mark on my wrist. Seven years of being coddled, of him wrapping me in care and attention. What would I have done without Caleb? And yet… I didn’t want him anymore. I didn’t want this pretend connection. Not anymore.

That night, sleep evaded me. Whether it was the sting in my hand or the sharp realization of my own feelings, I couldn’t find rest. I tossed and turned, sheets damp with sweat, desperate for oblivion. Hours passed before exhaustion finally claimed me.

Just as the first light of dawn crept in, Caleb shook me awake.

I groaned and tried to push him off, but he only chuckled and leaned down to press a quick kiss to my lips.

Instantly, all my weariness vanished. I wanted to push him, slap him even, but restrained myself just in time.

“Morning, my sleepy little star?” he teased.

I turned my face away, wiping my lips with distaste.

“It’s the weekend. Why can’t you let me sleep in?” I grumbled, dragging myself upright.

Caleb’s expression softened into one of helpless concern. “Did you even realize you ran a fever last night? Come on, get up. I’m taking you to the doctor.”

I paused, studying him. Was he acting out the role of a caring boyfriend, or did he genuinely care about me? The worry etched on his face was real, yet it didn’t feel like it was truly directed at me.

Still, I couldn’t argue, so I reluctantly followed.

In the clinic’s hallway, we almost collided with Marina. She was limping slightly, clearly having hurt her foot, and struggling to make her way down the corridor.

Caleb, who had been so gentle moments before with me, immediately furrowed his brow.

Without even looking at me, he hurried to Marina’s side, supporting her carefully.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Marina glanced past him toward me and smiled faintly. “Just a sprained ankle. Funny coincidence—you’re here for a checkup too?”

Caleb froze for a heartbeat, glancing back at me with an expression I recognized all too well: guilt hiding behind composure. It had always been there when Marina appeared, but now it was glaringly obvious.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, adjusting his posture. “My… friend’s little sister had a fever, so I brought her along for a check-up.”

I wasn’t surprised. I shouldn’t have been. Ever since Caleb refused to make our relationship public, I had been “the younger sister of a friend”—no one outside his inner circle knew the truth.

Marina nodded. “Of course you have to take care of her. I’ll manage, you two go ahead.” She gestured toward another wing of the clinic.

Without hesitation, Caleb scooped her into his arms. “I’ll get you over there. Valencia, wait here.”

Watching them, I felt a strange emptiness, as though the energy had been drained from my body. Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was the ache in my chest at seeing him care for her more than me. My knees shook, and I had to lean against the wall, saying nothing.

Caleb didn’t even glance at me again as he carried Marina away. It didn’t seem to matter that I was sick. It didn’t seem to matter at all.

No matter how perfect Caleb appeared, around Marina, his true emotions always slipped through—betraying the illusion he maintained. And he didn’t even realize it.

I forced a bitter smile, turning toward the doctor’s office to attend to my fever alone.

Sure enough, the thermometer confirmed it: 41.3°C. The burn on my wrist had become infected, worsened by emotional stress, and now a viral infection had taken hold. The doctor instructed me to drink boiled herbs and a medicinal infusion.

Out of habit, I reached for my phone to call Caleb—but stopped before even dialing.

Habit was dangerous.

I chuckled at myself softly, put the phone away, and headed to the patient lounge, carrying my herbs and infusion alone.

The morning dragged on endlessly as I painstakingly finished the herbal infusion and medicinal concoction the doctor had prescribed. Dizziness swirled through my head, making each movement a challenge, and I nearly lost my balance more than once, gripping the edge of the sleek marble counter to steady myself.

I picked up my phone to call Caleb, only to feel my chest tighten when I noticed there were no messages from him—not a single text checking in, not even a brief note about where he had gone. My stomach twisted with disappointment.

With a sigh, I pressed his number, trying to keep my voice steady. “Caleb, I’m still at the clinic,” I said, forcing calm into my tone.

There was a pause on the other end, and then he spoke, his voice faltering slightly. “I… I was planning to come back for you after I dropped Marina off, but… she wasn’t feeling well. Her stomach… started acting up.”

Wait. He took Marina home?

Before he could continue, a sharp, cheerful voice rang out in the background: “Sir, your lunch is ready! Please enjoy your meal.”

I caught the quick intake of breath from Caleb, and even as he hastily tried to cover the receiver, it was too late—I had heard enough. A heavy silence fell, broken only by the faint clink of cutlery in the background. For a moment, he seemed frozen, as if realizing he had been caught in a lie.

“It’s fine,” I said softly, almost mechanically. “I can manage on my own.”

I wasn’t sure if I said it to reassure him—or perhaps to convince myself. My chest ached as I muttered the words, pretending they carried weight.

Just as I was about to end the call, his voice called out again, low and insistent. “Valencia… just head home. I’ll explain everything later.”

Explain what? Another string of carefully constructed lies? Another attempt to make me believe in a story that wasn’t true?

I ended the call without another word and arranged for a private driver to take me home. But when night fell, Caleb had still not returned.

I tried to sleep, but the distant hum of the city kept me awake. Through the window, I saw fireworks igniting the night sky, brilliant bursts of color that illuminated the skyline. Probably someone’s romantic gesture, I thought bitterly, my lips curling into a small, sour smile.

Unable to ignore the noise, I grabbed my tablet and returned to sketching bespoke wedding gowns for a client. As I worked, my finger brushed against the chat application, revealing a recent post from Marina.

It was a breathtaking image: fireworks bursting against the velvet night sky, accompanied by a caption dripping with sentiment:

"After half a lifetime away, I return. And here, the fireworks bloom—a welcome in all their glory."

I stared at the post for several long moments, heart sinking as my thoughts spiraled. Only when I tried to close the app did I realize Caleb’s account was still logged in on my tablet.

I didn’t want to see their interactions, didn’t want to be privy to their flirtations. With a sharp exhale, I logged out and set the tablet aside, refusing to let myself dwell on it.

The next morning, I arrived at the office feeling marginally more composed. The manager handed me my approved resignation letter, her expression a bittersweet mix of pride and sadness as she learned my reason for leaving: a bond marriage that would require me to relocate.

“I’m going to miss you, Valencia,” she said softly. “You’ve been one of the strongest members of my team.”

Unsure of what to say, I embraced her tightly, my voice thick with emotion as I thanked her for her years of guidance and support.

After completing the formalities, my colleagues insisted on a farewell lunch to celebrate my upcoming union. I didn’t protest, reserving a table at one of Caleb’s favorite restaurants—a place we had visited often, one of the rare spots that felt familiar and comforting.

Halfway through the meal, I excused myself to visit the restroom—and ran straight into Marina.

She greeted me with a radiant smile. “Valencia! I didn’t expect to see you here. This is actually the restaurant Caleb first took me to after our coming-of-age ceremony. We’ve been here countless times since.”

I offered her a polite, measured smile and tried to walk past, unwilling to engage in small talk.

But she stopped me, tilting her head slightly. “I noticed last time that Caleb always rinses the shrimp in water before peeling it for you. You don’t eat spicy food either, right?”

Her words froze me mid-step.

The truth was, I did enjoy spicy food. But Caleb had always rinsed the shrimp before serving it to me, insisting it was better for my health, insisting I avoid anything too hot. I had assumed it was simply his way of being thoughtful.

Now, staring at Marina, I realized the truth: the one he worried about, the one he had been catering to all this time… it wasn’t me. It had always been her.