Chapter 2

After sending that message, I turned off my phone.

I lay there alone, staring at the empty ceiling, and didn't sleep all night.

Crystal and I had been together for seven years.

The year I started working, she got sick, and neither of her parents was around.

I took time off to look after her, slept in the hospital cot beside her for a whole week, and wore myself down to skin and bones.

Later, work put us in different cities for a year.

I was afraid her stomach trouble would flare up again, so every week I took the train for more than three hours to see her, cooking her soup and meals.

So many things. So many years of love.

And in the end, none of it could measure up to one word from Ulysses—"heartbroken."

I ached for a long time, and finally, hugging my pillow, I drifted into a heavy sleep.

Until my mother's knock at the door woke me.

"Xavier, what happened between you and Crystal?"

"She called me first thing this morning, saying she couldn't reach you. She was so upset she didn't sleep all night."

I pulled the blanket up higher and said nothing.

Mom sat on the edge of the bed and sighed.

"What young couple doesn't fight?"

"You've already set the wedding date and told the relatives. You can't just break it off over something small."

"She has a good job, and she puts real effort into you. Don't let a fit of temper cost you such a fine girl."

I closed my eyes and didn't explain.

Every fight before this, I had been the one to back down.

But this time, what she'd taken away was the honeymoon I'd looked forward to most.

Mom wanted to keep at it, so I made an excuse about a headache and went downstairs to clear my head.

At the gate of the complex, I ran into a former coworker.

She was carrying breakfast, and the moment she saw me she came over smiling.

"Xavier, that's really not fair of you! When did you get married? How come there wasn't a word about it?"

I froze for a second.

"What marriage? Crystal and I haven't even registered yet."

"You didn't get married?"

She froze too, and quickly pulled out her phone.

"Then who's the guy your girlfriend posted about on her feed? We all thought the two of you were off on your honeymoon."

I looked at the phone she handed me.

The most recent post was a set of wedding photos of Crystal and Ulysses.

Ulysses's face wasn't shown—only half of him in a dark suit.

Crystal stood beside him, holding a bouquet, their shoulders pressed close together.

The two of them stood close in the sunset.

The caption was just one simple line.

"Love is staying together for a lifetime."

Below that were photos of them eating at a trendy restaurant.

That restaurant was one I'd found staying up late doing research.

It was in an out-of-the-way spot and only served six tables a day.

To get a table by the ocean, I'd put down a deposit two weeks ahead, and I'd even noted that the day was our anniversary.

Now Ulysses was sitting in the seat I'd booked, with the flowers and cake that should have been mine right in front of him.

The photos after that were all the spots I'd mapped out in my itinerary.

The cliff swing, the seaside chapel, the sunset restaurant.

Even the camera angles were exactly the same as the guides I'd saved.

In one of the photos, Ulysses sat on the swing.

Crystal stood a little way off, holding up her phone, carefully taking pictures of him.

The caption read:

"Shot for more than three hours, and finally got one he was happy with."

Back when I asked Crystal to take photos for me, she was always impatient.

She'd snap one quick shot and shove the phone back into my hand.

But now she would patiently take a hundred more just because Ulysses wasn't happy with one.

I scrolled down a few times. The comments were full of well-wishes for the two of them.

"Your man's so handsome—congratulations!"

"Happy wedding! May you two grow old together."

Crystal explained nothing.

She just quietly liked every single one of those well-wishes.

One person in the comments asked:

"That isn't Xavier, is it? You took wedding photos with another man—does Xavier know?"

Crystal didn't reply.

When I refreshed, the comment was gone.

My coworker saw how pale my face had gone and realized something was wrong.

"The person in the photos—that isn't you?"

I shook my head and looked down at the set of photos again.

In the pictures, the bride and groom had their fingers laced tightly together.

Happily accepting everyone's blessings and praise.

And I, the groom-to-be who was actually supposed to marry her, had become the outsider who couldn't be seen in the light.