Chapter 1

The whole Capital knew that my childhood sweetheart, Alfred Pruitt, and I were deeply in love.

He proposed to me on a helicopter, and just as the ring went on my finger, the helicopter suddenly crashed.

I broke both my legs, and he fell into a coma.

Two weeks later, Alfred finally woke up, but he had lost his memory.

The love in his eyes was gone, leaving only cold indifference.

He began chasing a flower girl named Mavis Summers relentlessly.

He bought out the entire flower shop and made Mavis the owner.

He chartered a luxury cruise ship and confessed his love to Mavis out at sea.

He set off fireworks across the whole city for her, introduced her to all his friends, and doted on her so openly that everyone knew.

Everyone told me Alfred had simply lost his memory and was muddled for the moment, and that he'd settle down once we were married.

I believed it, and I put up with it.

Until I overheard him talking with one of his buddies.

"Mr. Pruitt, how long are you planning to keep faking this amnesia? Going to all this trouble just to chase some little sweetheart—is it really worth it?"

He gave a laugh.

"What do you know? Vanessa can't stand a speck of grit in her eye. Before I get married, I just want to have a little more fun. Faking amnesia is the best excuse there is."

My eyes burned, and it felt like someone had driven a knife hard into my heart.

This relationship—I gave up on it completely.

Section 1

I drifted back into the living room, my mind in chaos.

The maid wheeled my mother's chair over.

My mother smiled and handed me a catalog, flipping it open eagerly.

"Vanessa, Mom's had her eye on several dresses. Help me pick one out. On your wedding day, I want to dress up nicely too."

It felt like something slammed hard into my heart, and I couldn't breathe.

I badly wanted to tell her I had no desire to get married at all.

That it was all a lie of Alfred's.

But seeing the eager look in my mother's eyes, I squeezed out a smile.

"Sure, let me take a look."

I pointed at a dress at random.

My mother smiled and turned to instruct the maid.

"This one. Go ahead and arrange it."

She held my hand and spoke earnestly.

"Vanessa, Mom knows you're hurting inside. But you and Alfred have been together so many years—that foundation is there. He's just confused because of the amnesia. Please don't take it to heart."

"Mom's health is poor, and your father passed away early. All I want is to see you married while I'm still alive."

My eyes stung terribly, and I nodded.

"Okay. I'll prepare for the wedding properly, Mom."

After seeing my mother off, I stood in the empty living room, lost in thought.

This house was the marital home Alfred had prepared back then, bought in my name.

After he "lost his memory," he moved out to a remote area on the outskirts of town to chase Mavis, and rarely came back.

The sky darkened little by little.

Scenes from the past churned through my mind, frame by frame.

Alfred and I grew up together. He said he wanted to marry me, to protect me for the rest of my life.

Three months ago, he proposed to me on a helicopter.

Just as the ring went on, the helicopter crashed.

I broke both my legs, and he was in a coma for two weeks.

The doctor told me there had been a baby in my belly, four months along—and it was gone.

I cried for three whole days.

After Alfred woke up, I wanted to tell him we'd had a child.

But he had amnesia.

He looked at me the way you'd look at a stranger.

"Even though we're engaged and I'll marry you, I don't have any feelings for you right now. You won't stop me from pursuing someone else, will you?"

He chased after Mavis with all the fanfare in the world.

Everyone said he was just muddled because of the amnesia.

But he had lied to me. It was all his lie.

My phone buzzed.

The wedding planner reminded me to come try on the wedding ring.

I dialed Alfred's number, but a woman's voice came through instead.

"Mr. Pruitt is at the amusement park with me!"

The phone was taken over, and a man's low voice came through.

"A little thing like the ring—handle it however you want. I don't have time."

Before I could say a word, the call ended.

I stared at the dark screen, gave a self-mocking little laugh, and drove out.

At the jewelry store, the saleswoman warmly laid out a row of rings.

I took a liking to a plain band with an osmanthus-tree motif.

Suddenly, a sweet, cloying voice came from behind me.

"Alfred, I like that one with the ruby."