To My Childhood Sweetheart, See You Never

"Ms. Hall, these are the details of the feigned death service you booked with us. The date of death is set for the wedding, half a month from now. The cause of death will be suicide by drowning, and the deceased is yourself. Please confirm and sign here."

Wendy Hall nodded. Without hesitation, she signed her name at the bottom of the document.

The bustling street was alive with chatter and movement. As Wendy walked home alone, she glanced up, and there it was—the giant screen on a nearby building, looping a video of Grayson Bryce proposing to her.

In the video, the ever-composed Grayson trembling slightly as he knelt on one knee, holding out the ring. When her voice finally uttered, "I do," the tears he had held back spilled over, glistening trails tracing the joy on his face.

A beautiful moment. So beautiful, in fact, that two girls standing nearby watching clung to each other, moved to tears.

"Oh my god, Grayson loves Wendy so much!"

"Right? He's like the ultimate romantic. Did you hear they're childhood sweethearts? When he was seventeen, he couldn't wait to confess to her. By twenty, he had the world's most expensive pink diamond crafted into a crown for her, saying she'd always be his princess. At twenty-three, when she was in a car accident and the blood bank ran out of her rare type, he gave his own blood, almost draining himself to save her. And at twenty-six, he proposed to her live for the entire world to see. How could anyone be more devoted than him?"

The words blurred together, a clamor of admiration that Wendy didn't need to hear. She lowered her gaze, masking the faint smirk of self-mockery in her eyes.

Everyone envied her love story with Grayson. Everyone believed he was utterly, hopelessly in love with her.

No one would imagine that Grayson had secretly kept a minor internet celebrity hidden away in a luxurious apartment for three whole years.

The truth had struck her like a blade, cruel and unrelenting, when she discovered that his "late nights at the office" were, in fact, spent entwined with another woman. The first time she saw the incriminating photos—intimate and shameless—her chest had felt hollowed out, her heart carved open and left bleeding.

And yet, her mind drifted back to another memory. When she was fifteen, her parents had divorced in a storm of screaming and accusations, each fighting to abandon her. That was the day Grayson had pushed open the door, taken her hand, and said, "It doesn't matter they don't want you, I do."

From that moment on, he gave her his entire heart. He fought for her, breaking three ribs in a street fight. He remembered every detail of her life, even the dates of her monthly cycle. His social media was a shrine to her. Every friend of his knew him as the guy hopelessly in love with Wendy Hall.

When he slid the wedding ring onto her finger, his tears mingled with his kisses, his words trembling with pleas. He begged her to love him for the rest of their lives. He begged her never to leave him. If she did, he said, it would drive him insane.

But in actuality, it was he who had betrayed her first.

If that was how it was meant to end, she would vanish. She'd fake her death, change her name, and disappear completely from his world. She would ensure he never found her again.

Wendy wiped away the dampness forming at the corner of her eyes. Just as she was about to step forward, a sleek Maybach screeched to a halt before her.

The rear door opened, and a tall figure stepped out, striding toward her with urgency.

"Wendy, weren't you supposed to wait at home? I told you I'd pick you up after work to try on wedding dresses. Why did you come out alone?"

Grayson took her hand as he spoke, frowning when he felt the coldness of her fingertips. Without hesitation, he slipped off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

"Your hands are freezing. You didn't even wear a coat. Are you trying to make me worry myself sick?"

She didn't reply. Instead, she raised her eyes to meet his, searching his gaze. The concern there seemed genuine.

And yet, that only deepened her confusion.

How could someone love two people at once?

Grayson tightened the coat around her shoulders, gently urging her toward the waiting car. As he did, the two girls across the street, drawn by the commotion, turned their heads instinctively. When they recognized the pair, their eyes lit up with unrestrained excitement.

They hurried over, faces flushed and words tumbling out in nervous fragments. "Excuse me, are you… are you Wendy and Grayson? We—we're huge fans of you two as a couple. Could we… take a photo with you?"

Wendy hesitated, unwilling to disappoint their earnest enthusiasm. After a brief pause, she nodded.

With permission granted, the two girls quickly positioned themselves, sandwiching the couple as they faced the camera.

Grayson was never fond of photographs, yet he instinctively placed his arm around Wendy, leaning into the frame with her.

After the photo was taken, the girls blushed even deeper, showering the couple with effusive thanks. Their words brimmed with wishes for the couple's everlasting love and a blissful marriage.

'Grow old together?' Wendy thought bitterly. She turned to glance at Grayson.

He met her gaze, his lips curving into a smile so tender it seemed to drip with affection, a quiet acknowledgment of the girls' blessings.

But only she knew the truth. They wouldn't grow old together.

When they arrived at the bridal boutique, Wendy stepped out of the car, greeted by a staff member who had clearly been waiting for her. The woman approached with practiced enthusiasm, her tone carrying a trace of awe.

"Ms. Hall, the thousand custom wedding gowns Mr. Bryce ordered for you are ready. You're welcome to try them on anytime to see which one you like best."

Wendy said nothing, her gaze drifting toward Grayson. He stood a short distance away, engrossed in something on his phone. His expression, unguarded for a fleeting moment, betrayed a hunger she recognized all too well. It was the same look she had seen in the illicit photos of him and the minor internet celebrity—the same gaze that spoke of raw, unbridled desire.

Sensing her eyes on him, Grayson quickly tucked his phone away and walked over, an apologetic smile softening his face. "Wendy, I'm sorry. Something urgent came up at work, and I have to go handle it. I've arranged for the driver to wait for you here. Once you've tried on the gowns, he'll take you home."

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead before rushing into a different car. The door closed with finality, leaving her standing there, alone.

The boutique staff member approached cautiously, her voice tentative. "Ms. Hall, would you like to start trying on the dresses now?"

Wendy withdrew her gaze from the departing car and shook her head. "No. I don't want any of them."

After all, at their wedding, the only bride present would be a "dead" one.