Chapter 3

I clenched my teeth and drew a long breath. "Marry you. Of course I'll marry you."

"Then apologize to Kirsten, and we'll get married the normal way."

His voice was cold, like none of it mattered to him.

My fingers moved over the cold lace trim of the wedding dress. Fabric that was supposed to carry joy, and all it did now was dig into something raw in my chest.

I forced out a bitter little smile. "Why would I ever apologize to her?"

On the other end, Amos sounded careless, edged with impatience. "You still think you did nothing wrong? You really don't know what you did?"

"I don't."

He went quiet again. A few seconds later he dropped one line. "Cecilia, well done."

Then he hung up.

I don't know when it started, but he never said goodbye when he took my calls.

I used to think he was just busy, a man in his position, used to ending things that way.

Then one day I found out that wasn't it.

He had all the patience in the world for Kirsten. When they talked, his voice went soft and slow, and near the end he'd coax her gently, telling her to hang up first.

With me, the patience always seemed to run thin.

I set the phone down, planning to lay it all out face to face when I got there.

Minute by minute the time passed, and at last the train pulled into Harbor City.

The moment I stepped off, I gathered up the skirt and headed out.

The entrance was empty.

There was no motorcade. Nothing he'd promised.

He'd played me.

I pulled out my phone and called him. He picked up fast, but said nothing.

I swallowed the sick feeling and asked, "So this is your answer?"

"Cecilia, I didn't like the way you spoke to Kirsten. She's my friend."

"So are we getting married or not?"

"Apologize, and I'll come get you right now. Otherwise the wedding's off."

His tone left no room.

I drew in a breath and fought to smother the anger. Five thousand years of history, and had anyone else ever run into something this absurd?

I gave a cold laugh. "I'm not apologizing."

He hung up on me again and sent through an address, the hotel we'd booked before.

A moment later the phone buzzed twice more.

Kirsten again.

【Cece, you really don't understand Amos.】

Two photos of rings.

They were the rings Amos, Kirsten, and I had gone to pick out together.

He'd said Kirsten had good taste and could help us decide.

In the shop, Kirsten fell for this one at first sight, gushing about how much she loved it.

I didn't care for the style, but I bought it anyway, to keep Amos happy.

The saleswoman said the ring stood for eternal love.

I remember asking Amos then, "Will you love me forever?"

He gave me a flat glance. "You believe in that stuff? Isn't it enough that I treat you well?"

Looking back now, he was just dodging the question.

【You like it, so it's yours. The venue's already set, might as well just hold the wedding there.】

I sent one reply and didn't answer after that.

I found the nearest mall, bought a change of clothes, and put them on.

Face blank, I shoved the wedding dress that had held seven years of hope hard into the trash.

The white gown smeared with filth, exactly like what was left of Amos and me.

I'd swallowed it again and again. I was done swallowing.

I took out my phone and snapped a photo of the trash can.

Then I posted it to social media with a caption.

【Trash this worthless belongs in the trash.】

Not long after, Amos called. I hung up on him and blocked him everywhere — messages and his number both.

As far as I was concerned, whatever debt I owed him, I'd paid in full.

All these years, as a reporter, I'd done plenty of the pen-and-paper work for him.

Three years ago he went to the Southeast region on business and got stranded there. It was me who raised it online, whose article drew enough public attention to get him pulled out.

Afterward, when he came to, Kirsten sat sobbing at his bedside, saying he'd scared her half to death, and he coaxed her gently, told her it was fine, he wasn't going to die.

Knowing it was a sore spot for him, I never brought it up again.

And it was from then on that Amos quietly began to change.

……

The story kept building online.

The moment I got off the train, a fellow reporter had already zeroed in on me, the poor jilted bride from the train.

"Miss, why did you throw the wedding dress away? Aren't you getting married?"

The cameras all swung toward me at once.

I drew a breath. As a reporter, I knew the lens was the best weapon I had right now.

I turned to face it, my eyes going damp. "The groom's heart landed on someone else a long time ago."