I spent ten years trying to win over Tristan Wilder. The only way I could avoid being erased by the system was to marry him before he turned twenty-eight. But on our wedding day, the female officiant made a mistake. Instead of asking, “Do you take her to be your wife?” she asked, “Do you take me to be your wife?” The audience burst into laughter, but Tristan’s eyes turned red. Without a second thought, he took the officiant by the hand and left the wedding, saying, “I do.” That’s when I realized: Tristan had always been in love with someone else—his first love. And now, she’s back. Everything is over. 0″Do you take me to be your wife?” “I do.” When Tristan said those words, his eyes were red, and the entire room went dead silent. But he ignored everyone. He turned, took the hand of the woman in the white dress, who looked eerily like me, and walked out of the wedding. It was supposed to be my wedding. Yet, I stood there like a spectator, feeling the despair well up in my eyes. It’s all over. The system’s voice, tinged with regret, echoed in my head. “That’s Tristan’s first love. Ten years ago, she left to study abroad.” “And now she’s back.” “Your mission… it’s failed.” The wedding venue erupted into chaos: Guests whispering, the officiant trying to restore order, my friends furiously cursing under their breath… But to me, everything was eerily quiet. Yes. It was all over. My mission had failed, and I was going to die. I had spent the last ten years trying to win over Tristan Wilder. I was there for him when he had nothing. I watched him climb his way up to become the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country. During the hard times, I stayed up late making him soup, nursed him back home after drunken business meetings, and shared meals of mac and cheese with him. I thought my companionship was the greatest act of love. I thought I had made my way into Tristan’s heart. But now, it all feels like a joke. A first love is always a first love. She didn’t need to do anything. All she had to do was stand there, and Tristan would follow her. I’m sorry, host, the system said, with a faint trace of sadness. “You only have three days left to stay in this world…” I took a deep breath, my chest tightening as though two heavy stones were crushing it. My friend held my hand and gently rubbed my back, trying to comfort me. “Lana, don’t worry about it. That jerk isn’t worth it…” I shook my head and sent the guests home. I declined the sympathy from family and friends, and left the wedding alone. Dressed in my pristine white wedding gown, I waved down a cab on the street. The driver looked at me in shock, but I held back my tears. “Take me to Gull Cove.” Gull Cove was where I first met Tristan, where we started his business together. There was an old, run-down apartment there—our first home and where all my fond memories were stored. I only had three days left. I wanted to die there. 0
The driver was silent for a long time, probably confused by the sight of a bride leaving a chapel alone. When we finally arrived at Gull Cove, I pulled out my phone to pay, but the driver waved it away. “No need. Miss, take it easy. As long as you’re still alive, there’s no obstacle you can’t overcome…” I didn’t cry when Tristan left with his first love. I didn’t cry under the weight of all the judgmental stares at the wedding. But the driver’s unexpected, kind words shattered my defenses. Once he left, I collapsed on the ground and cried, my heart aching with every sob. Yes, there’s no obstacle I can’t overcome. But I’m about to die. I walked along the muddy path at Gull Cove for a long time until I finally reached the familiar, run-down apartment building. Room 20
That’s where Tristan and I spent our hardest three years. Dragging my mud-stained wedding dress, I silently pulled out the key and twisted it in the rusty lock. It creaked, loudly, as the door finally opened. The door next to me swung open too. Mrs. Hattie Greene, the woman with her hair in rollers, peeked her head out, looking me up and down for a while. Suddenly, her eyes lit up as she asked, “Lana?” I forced a smile and nodded. Mrs. Greene rushed out, her apron still on, grabbing my hand with warmth. “Do you remember me?” “I’m Mrs. Greene! I lived next door when you two stayed here…” Of course, I remembered. Back then, Tristan and I would come home late from work. On nights we were too tired to cook, Mrs. Greene would pull us into her house to eat dinner with her. She was warm and kind, reminiscing about old times. “So, where’s that young man? You two must be married by now, right?” As she continued talking, her gaze finally landed on my pale face, tear-filled eyes, and the mud-streaked wedding gown. She stood there, stunned for a long moment, before gently patting my back. “It’s okay, dear. There are plenty of good men out there.” “Don’t worry, I’ll find someone better for you.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced back the tears that threatened to fall. After saying goodbye to Mrs. Greene, I stepped into the tiny apartment. This place, full of memories Tristan and I shared… The room was small. Just a double bed, a dust-covered table, and a worn-out panda plushie. This was everything Tristan had given me. I sat on the bed, running my fingers over the stuffed panda, and tears poured out. “Don’t cry, Lana. Tristan was wrong.” “Don’t cry, Lana. Tristan was wrong.” The broken, mechanical voice repeated, blinking its dim light. It was from my first birthday with Tristan. I had cooked noodles at home, waiting excitedly for him to come back. But he never showed up that night. When he finally returned the next afternoon, his eyes were red, and he looked completely worn out. Maybe out of guilt, he gave me the panda plushie. I was so happy back then. Tristan’s panda… I loved it so much. But later, I found out his first love’s name was Rachel Whitmore. The panda said “Lana,” but it wasn’t for me. It was for Rachel. That night wasn’t just my birthday. It was also Rachel’s birthday. He had spent the whole night running around, trying to ship the panda overseas to her. But because the plushie had a lithium battery inside, he couldn’t send it by air. So Tristan brought it back and threw it to me like trash. The panda was pitiful, discarded like garbage. And my love? Just as worthless. 03. That night, I lay on the bed where Tristan and I had once slept together, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Seven years had passed, and the faint scent of lemon still lingered on the sheets—Tristan’s scent. I used to love that smell. But now, it only made me feel sick. Our text conversation was still open from the night before. “Babe, babe, we’re getting married tomorrow. I’m so nervous! What if I can’t sleep?” “Don’t worry, after the wedding, you’ll control the money, and I’ll do all the housework…” How laughable. Last night, Tristan was still anxious about our wedding. And today, he chose to leave me, walking out hand-in-hand with someone else. He didn’t even look back at me when he left. Of course, he never really saw me at all. I was just a stand-in for Rachel. Now that she’s back, he doesn’t need me anymore. Tristan was probably somewhere right now, happily walking in the moonlight with his first love. Pathetically, I stared at my phone. Through blurred tears, I saw a message pop up: “Lana Brooks! Where are you? So, we didn’t get married, big deal!” “Are you really going to disappear and throw a fit over this?” “Don’t you get it? I’ve never loved you!” “I transferred $300,000 to your account.” “Take the money and leave. If you want to die, then go ahead!” The pain in my heart stabbed like a knife. Tristan’s cold words were just as harsh as the day we first met. He couldn’t even muster an apology. $300,000? I had spent ten years helping him build his business, standing by his side as he went from a broke young man to a successful entrepreneur. What we earned together was far more than that. But… When you truly love someone, do you really care about money? Then go ahead and die… Those words clouded my mind like a dark storm. But Tristan, I’m really going to die soon. Tears welled up again, but I swallowed them down. I hovered over the keyboard, trying to think of something to say. But in the end, I had nothing left. With a final breath, I clicked the “delete contact” button. Goodbye, Tristan. The Tristan I’ve loved for the last ten years. 0
The night had grown late. A cold wind blew in through the poorly sealed window, chilling me to the bone. Ten years ago, when Tristan and I lived here, the window was always like this—never fully closed. Every night, the room would grow cold, almost unbearably so. Back then, Tristan would hold me close, his body pressed against mine, sharing his warmth with me. Those winters were harsh, but with Tristan by my side, they always felt like spring—bright, warm, and full of promise. Now, lying alone in this bed, all I feel is the biting cold. A dull, relentless ache spread through my chest. I lay there, staring blankly into the darkness. Maybe I’ll just die here like this. By the time my body turns cold and rigid, Tristan will be in bed with his first love, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, just like he used to do with me. The phone on the nightstand buzzed suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. I picked it up, and a friend request appeared on the screen. It wasn’t from Tristan. The request was from a person with a name that made my heart sink: Rachel Whitmore. Rachel Whitmore… Tristan’s first love, the “Lana” that the panda plush had referred to all along. The woman who had truly won Tristan’s heart. I accepted the request, my curiosity getting the best of me, and immediately went to look through her posts. I couldn’t help but wonder. Why? Why did this woman, who resembled me in so many ways, deserve Tristan’s entire heart without lifting a finger? Why had I given everything, only to end up with nothing? Why did I have to pay with my life? What made her so much better than me? Her most recent post was a nine-picture collage. In every photo, Tristan was smiling, looking at Rachel with a tenderness that I’d never seen before. His grip on her hand was tight, as if he feared losing her again. And to top it off, Tristan was wearing the same suit he had worn to our wedding. So, the moment he left me at the altar, he rushed to her, embracing his first love and taking these pictures. They looked so happy. As if I had never existed at all. The caption that accompanied the photos was like a knife dipped in poison, stabbing deep into my heart. “After ten years, you’re still you, and I’m still me. (Oh, by the way, we’re getting married in three days~)” Three days? I let out a bitter laugh. Three days was when my mission would fail, and I’d be erased by the system. It was also when Tristan would marry Rachel Whitmore. The system’s voice suddenly echoed in my head. “Disgusting…” Even the system sounded angry. I shook my head. The system continued, its tone softening. “Lana Brooks, I can see it. You’ve done everything you could over these ten years.” “I’ll give you a choice—choose how you want to die…” Choose how I want to die? I sighed. Since I was going to die anyway, it didn’t matter how it happened. The phone buzzed again. It was a message from Rachel Whitmore. She sent me an address. “We’re getting married in three days. I hope you’ll come.” Staring at those words, an idea started to form in my mind.
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