I was probably a strong contender for the most *dutiful* fiancée of the year. I’d chased Julian Reed for eight years, thinking I was starring in some inspirational drama, finally melting that icy man’s heart. The proposal, the engagement – it was all as grand as a fairy tale. Until the eve of our wedding, as I sat surrounded by mountains of invitations, dreaming of our future. Then he came to tell me, for the sake of his first love: “I want to have a child with her, through surrogacy. It won’t affect our wedding.” Oh. So the iceberg wasn’t incapable of melting; it was just that the eternal spring in his heart was never meant for me. And my eight years of devotion? Just a convenient, understanding backup option when he wasn’t busy fulfilling his ‘responsibilities’. [Skylar, I’m going to have a child with Valerie.] Julian’s voice was as cool and detached as ever, devoid of any warmth. I thought I’d misheard him. I paused, my hands still on the wedding invitations I was sorting, and looked up at the man I’d loved for eight long years. “What did you say?” Julian sat casually on the sofa opposite me, as if we were discussing what to have for dinner. “Professor Evans is critically ill. His only wish is to see Valerie have her own child. I promised him I’d look after Valerie for life.” He paused, then added, “It’s just fulfilling a responsibility. We’ll use my sperm and her eggs, find a surrogate. There won’t be any actual relationship between us, and the wedding will proceed as planned.” Absurd! My ears rang with the sheer audacity. A month before our wedding, my fiancé wanted to have a baby with another woman. And I? I was supposed to be *understanding*, *magnanimous*. “Julian, have you lost your mind?” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “I’m perfectly lucid.” Julian frowned, seemingly displeased by my strong reaction. “Skylar, I always thought you were sensible. This is just to grant a dying old man’s wish.” Sensible. Right. From university onwards, I’d followed him around like a tireless ray of sunshine. He was always that iceberg, distant and aloof. Everyone said I was terrifyingly passionate, but only I knew that if I didn’t initiate, there wouldn’t be a single spark between us. Eight years. I’d seen his back more often than his face. I thought I’d finally warmed this stone. He’d proposed, given me a grand engagement party, making me believe I was the happiest woman in the world. Turns out, it was all just *my* belief. “So, in your mind, my feelings, our marriage—they’re less important than your so-called ‘responsibility’?” My eyes welled up, my voice thick with tears. Julian’s phone screen lit up. He glanced at it, his expression immediately turning impatient, and stood up from the sofa. “I have an emergency. You should just calm down for a bit.” He grabbed his jacket, not even sparing me another look, and headed straight for the door. Always like this. When I needed him most, he always had something more important, always left me alone. I watched his resolute back, my heart sinking deeper into an icy abyss. The door clicked shut, cutting off all sound. I was left alone in the living room, with a table full of invitations. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a SnapChat message from Valerie Evans. A photo. The background was the Reproductive Medicine Center at the hospital. Julian was tilting his head, listening intently to a doctor in a white coat. And Valerie sat right beside him, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. Below the photo, a caption: [Julian said to stop making a fuss, important matters come first.] Important matters. So, his “emergency” was accompanying another woman to a fertility consultation. A suffocating pain instantly seized me. I clutched my chest, gasping for air. But it felt like the air in my lungs was getting thinner and thinner. I rushed into the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. Pale face, swollen red eyes, haggard and unrecognizable for love. These eight years, like a long, unrealistic dream. Now, the dream was over. I looked at my pathetic reflection and suddenly laughed. Tears still clung to my eyelashes, but the smile held a chilling, bone-deep coldness. I went back to the living room, picked up my phone, opened my Ins account, and posted a single line: [Wedding date unchanged, groom TBD. Inquiries welcome via DM.] The comments section exploded instantly. [??? Skylar, did you get hacked?!] [OMG, going all out? Does Dr. Reed know?] [Count me in! Groom Candidate #1 reporting for duty!] Seeing my friends’ joking replies, I pulled at the corners of my mouth, but couldn’t manage a smile. My phone rang abruptly. It was a number I’d almost forgotten. Caller ID: My Arch-Nemesis. I paused, then remembered who it was. Asher Vance. We grew up together, rivaling each other since childhood. Not long ago, when I announced my engagement, everyone sent congratulations. Only he commented something baffling: [Are you sure you want to marry him?] At the time, I just thought he was crazy, sent a “buzz off,” and ignored him. The phone kept ringing insistently. I swiped to answer, my voice still a little hoarse: “What do you want?” A two-second silence on the other end, then Asher’s leisurely, yet somewhat serious voice came through. “Me. The groom’s spot. Consider me?” My grip tightened on the phone, my mind blank for a moment. But quickly, I calmed down. The Vance and Dawson families were old acquaintances, similar in status, and knew each other inside and out. Asher might have a smart mouth, but his character and family background were impeccable. Instead of marrying a man whose heart belonged to someone else, why not choose someone who could at least make me feel at ease? If it’s already broken, why not smash it completely? “Alright.” I heard myself say, calmly. Asher on the other end seemed stunned too, taking a few seconds to confirm: “You… you’re serious?” “What else?” I retorted. “Do you have any conditions?” “Conditions?” Asher chuckled softly. “First, change my contact name from ‘My Arch-Nemesis’ to ‘My Dearest’.” I didn’t say anything. “And,” His voice suddenly turned serious. “I’m not messing around with you. I want a real marital relationship. Are you sure you’ve thought this through?” A real marital relationship. I thought sarcastically, *I was with Julian for eight years, and we never became a real family.* “I’ve thought it through.” I answered crisply. “Give me half a month. I need to sort some things out.” “Deal.” After hanging up, I immediately opened Asher’s contact and changed the name to [My Dearest]. Looking at those two words, a thrill of vindictive pleasure rose from deep inside, bringing a flicker of warmth to my icy body. Julian, you’re having a baby with another woman behind my back. Fine, I’ll switch grooms behind yours. 2. Julian didn’t come back for the next few days. I didn’t call him to ask either. I just quietly, one by one, contacted the friends to whom I’d sent invitations, asking them to send them back or simply destroy them. My best friend, Chloe, was shocked on the phone: “What’s wrong, Skylar? Did you two fight? Don’t be impulsive!” My voice betrayed no emotion: “No fight. Just a change of groom.” There was a long silence on the other end, then Chloe’s dry laugh: “Alright, alright, I know you two are just playing games again. Dr. Reed is such an ice cube, only you, his little ray of sunshine, can melt him. No one else could.” No one believed me. Everyone thought my love for Julian was a given, indestructible. I hung up, a bitter taste in my mouth. It turns out, in this relationship, I was the only constant. I decided to prove it with action. When Julian finally returned, it was three days later. He looked exhausted, faint dark circles under his eyes; he clearly hadn’t rested well. He took off his jacket and tossed it onto the sofa. Seeing me sitting on the living room carpet, staring blankly, his first words mirrored my actions over the past few days. “Skylar, retrieve all the invitations.” He paused, his voice hoarse: “Professor Evans is critically ill; I need to be by his side during this time to honor his final days. Let’s postpone our wedding.” After saying it, he seemed ready for a fierce argument. However, the anticipated crying and questioning didn’t happen. I merely looked up, calmly met his gaze, and softly said: “Understood. My condolences.” This overly “sensible” attitude inexplicably startled Julian. He felt something was off, but days of exhaustion left him no time for deep thought. “You should come with me to the hospital this afternoon to see Professor Evans.” He offered the invitation. I nodded: “Okay.” Out of politeness, I should go. In the hospital corridor outside the ward, the smell of disinfectant was thick and suffocating. The moment Valerie Evans saw Julian, she latched onto him like he was her pillar of strength. Her tears gushed, and her body went limp, collapsing into his arms. Julian, almost instinctively, lunged forward, catching her steadily in his embrace. He bent his head, comforting the sobbing woman, and without looking up, said to me behind him: “You go in first. Valerie isn’t doing well; I’ll stay with her for a bit.” Their posture was so intimate, as if they were the couple. I watched the scene, my heart strangely calm. I didn’t even rush forward and tear her away from him, like I used to. I simply glanced at them, then turned, and quietly pushed open the door to a family waiting room. I was completely different from the crying, dramatic person I used to be. 3. Julian felt a flicker of surprise at my composure, but Valerie’s trembling in his arms quickly pulled his attention back. I visited Professor Evans alone in his hospital bed and then offered my condolences to Mrs. Evans. Mrs. Evans held my hand, her eyes red, conveying both gratitude and apology. “Skylar, you’ve really been wronged. The wedding trouble is all our fault.” I shook my head, indicating understanding. Mrs. Evans sighed and began to explain for Julian: “Julian, you see how he’s so cold and distant on the outside, but he truly cares for you. He used to mention you casually to us, saying what silly things you’d done, how you smiled like a silly ray of sunshine. He loved you without even realizing it; he just wasn’t good at expressing himself.” Loved without realizing it? Hearing those words, I found them incredibly ironic. If he truly loved me, why did I always feel ignored? Why did his turning back always outweigh his staying embrace? Why would he, for another woman, ask me to postpone our wedding, and even contemplate having a child with someone else? I was certain that the moment Julian agreed to surrogacy, everything had already come to an end. These belated declarations of love felt ridiculously cheap. Soon after, Professor Evans passed away. At the memorial service, Julian, as his most accomplished protégé, stayed by Valerie’s side throughout, acting almost like a de facto family member. When the ceremony concluded, it was pouring rain outside. Julian drove up and stopped in front of me. The car window lowered. Valerie sat in the passenger seat, and a sorrowful Mrs. Evans was in the back. “Get in.” He said it simply. I was about to open the back door when Valerie in the passenger seat suddenly burst into tears, sobbing as she pleaded with Julian: “Julian, I just want you to take Mom and me to the cemetery to be with Dad. Can’t *she* just call a ride herself?” Her words were sharp and malicious. Even Mrs. Evans in the back frowned, finding her daughter’s behavior disrespectful. Julian, however, fell silent. He glanced at Valerie’s tear-reddened eyes, then at me, standing silently outside the window. Ultimately, he chose to appease Valerie. He said to me: “I’ll come back for you later.” With that, he stepped on the gas, and the black sedan sped away into the rain. I was left standing alone, the icy rain pelting my face. I had anticipated this outcome, and there wasn’t even a hint of sadness on my face. I waited under the eaves of the funeral home for a full three hours. My phone screen remained dark. I knew he wasn’t coming. The funeral home was in a remote location, and I couldn’t find a ride. I had no choice but to walk along the highway in the torrential rain. The cold rain soaked through my expensive black dress, leaving me drenched and miserable. It took me nearly two hours of walking to reach the outskirts of the city where I could finally hail a taxi. By the time I returned to that so-called home, it was late into the night. 4. That night, I came down with a high fever. Julian didn’t return all night. I was delirious with fever, my bones felt like they’d been disassembled and reassembled; I didn’t even have the strength to grab my phone and dial 91
In the end, driven by a primal instinct to survive, I struggled to find some fever reducers in the medicine cabinet. I haphazardly swallowed a few pills, then drifted into a deep, feverish sleep. A whole day and night passed. When I woke up again, the fever had finally broken, but I was utterly drained of all strength. Julian returned at that very moment. He didn’t mention abandoning me at the funeral home entrance two days prior, acting as if it had never happened. He walked straight into the walk-in closet and began packing a bag. “Valerie’s in a bad way. I need to go stay with her for a few days.” He explained as he packed. He didn’t even notice my pale face or my weakened state. He just left me with a dismissive “Call me if you need anything” and rushed out again. I lay in bed, thinking sarcastically: *What’s the point of calling?* In his mind, my problems probably never counted as “anything.” Julian didn’t return for the next few days. However, through Valerie Evans’s Ins account, I passively learned all of his whereabouts. Today, he accompanied her to a calming art exhibition. Tomorrow, he walked with her by the river, the evening breeze rustling through her long hair. The day after, she was sick, and he sat by her bedside, patiently feeding her medicine. Every photo radiated meticulous care and constant companionship. I was already numb to all of this. After I recovered, the first thing I did was resign from my job. My colleagues were puzzled by my sudden decision to leave Portwood and return to my hometown. Someone subconsciously asked: “So, if you leave, what about Dr. Reed?” It was then I realized that, in everyone’s eyes, my life seemed to revolve around Julian. I smiled and replied: “It’s not a long-distance relationship. It’s… we won’t be seeing each other again.” After packing up my things at the office, I returned home carrying a cardboard box. As I opened the door, I ran right into Julian and Valerie in the living room. Julian saw the box in my arms and frowned, questioning: “What’s with the box?” “Oh, the company’s moving inventory. Just some personal items I’m taking home first.” I lied without batting an eye. Valerie interjected at just the right moment. She walked up to me, putting on a fragile, innocent expression. “Skylar, I’m so sorry. About the surrogacy thing… I was thoughtless. Now that Dad’s gone, it’s not needed anymore. Nothing happened between Julian and me, so please don’t take it to heart.” Her words sounded like an apology, but they were really a boast and a way to clear her name. I saw through her hypocrisy but was too tired to call her out. I just nodded. After I went to my room, I realized I’d left my phone on the living room sofa. Just as I was about to go retrieve it, the bedroom door was abruptly pushed open. Julian burst in, holding my phone, his face dark. Those usually indifferent eyes were now fixated on me, his voice filled with suppressed fury. He thrust the phone screen in front of me and demanded, word by word: “Who is this ‘My Dearest’ in your phone?” 5. I looked at Julian’s angry face and found it incredibly ironic. This was the first time I’d ever seen him jealous over me. I remembered the past, how I’d also painstakingly tried similar tactics, asking male friends to call me to try and provoke even a flicker of concern from him. But each time, he’d been completely unresponsive, as cold as ice. Now, that I was actually leaving, he finally learned to be jealous. It was all too late. Valerie had followed him and, seeing the tense atmosphere, immediately stepped forward to smooth things over, explaining proactively: “Oh, Julian, you’ve misunderstood! It must be Skylar’s best friend! We girls love giving our besties those kind of affectionate nicknames!” I was too tired to correct her. Exhausted, I simply went along with Valerie’s words, tacitly accepting her explanation. Julian’s expression softened slightly, but he still looked upset. I took my phone back, turned, and went into my room, closing the door. I redialed the number. The moment the call connected, Asher’s leisurely voice came through. He asked a string of trivial questions about the weather in Portwood today, and if I’d eaten. I grew a little impatient: “Asher, what exactly do you want to say?” Just as I was about to hang up, Asher finally asked the core question. His voice was no longer flippant; instead, it carried a hint of vulnerability. “I just wanted to ask you if you’ve had any regrets. Are you *really* going to change grooms?” He knew how much I used to love Julian—a love that was public, reckless. That love was a heavy stone weighing on his heart. I fell silent. Yes, my past love was tumultuous, known to the whole world. I chuckled self-deprecatingly, then answered with a firm voice: “I… don’t love him anymore.” “Asher, don’t worry.” I added, “I said I’d switch, and I won’t regret it because of Julian.” 6. I hung up the phone and stepped out of the room. Julian was still standing in the living room, his face still grim. He looked at me and said: “Next time, don’t use such easily misunderstood nicknames for your friends.” “Hmm,” I mumbled, giving him a perfunctory nod. Seeing me relent, Julian’s expression finally improved. Valerie, standing nearby, observed this scene. Her eyes flickered, and her expression grew complex. She realized that Julian still harbored a strong possessiveness towards me. So Valerie had a new idea. She proactively suggested: “Julian, Skylar, we haven’t had a meal together in ages. How about we all go see a movie tonight?” She wanted to use this opportunity to flaunt Julian’s affection for her in front of me. My first instinct was to refuse. But Valerie immediately turned to Julian, putting on an aggrieved look. Her eyes were red, as if I was still angry at her for what had happened before. Julian instantly felt a pang of pity and shot me a disapproving look, as if he were scolding me for being childish. I scoffed internally, but ultimately nodded. I was forced to go along. Valerie chose a high-end Japanese restaurant. Julian knew perfectly well that I was allergic to raw food and that it always upset my stomach. Yet, because Valerie said, “This restaurant is especially delicious,” he agreed without hesitation. At the dinner table, Julian meticulously picked out the salmon bones for Valerie, his movements gentle and focused. In front of me, there was only a single glass of warm water the entire time. Valerie even feigned confusion and asked me: “Skylar, why aren’t you eating? Is it not to your taste?” I couldn’t be bothered to respond. After dinner, Valerie chose a horror movie. In the dark cinema, she constantly initiated physical contact with Julian. Every time a scary scene appeared, she would shriek and immediately bury herself in his arms. Julian instinctively wanted to push her away, but seeing her tear-reddened eyes, he remembered his mentor’s dying wishes. He eventually relented, letting her lean against him. He subconsciously glanced at me sitting beside him and saw that I was watching them. My gaze was calm, completely unfazed, as if I were watching a play that had nothing to do with me. He wanted to say something, to explain. But I had already turned my head, continuing to watch the movie. A strange displeasure rose in Julian’s heart, but he still whispered comforting words to Valerie in his arms. Hearing his gentle reassurances, a faint, cold laugh escaped my lips. 7. As the day of my departure from Portwood drew closer, I decided to say a proper farewell to my friends. I messaged my group chat, suggesting we meet up. Chloe proposed we just do it at the alumni gathering in a few days, and everyone agreed. The gathering was set at a lively karaoke bar. Inside the private room, amidst the booming music, I leaned into Chloe’s ear and confessed: “I’m going home to get married in a couple of days.” Chloe’s eyes widened in shock. It took her a while to find her voice: “You were serious that day?!” “Serious,” I said with a smile, then added, “You’re all welcome to my wedding.” My friends gathered around, anxiously asking questions. “What about Julian? Does he know?” Just then, the private room door opened. Julian’s tall figure appeared in the doorway. He seemed to have just come from a business dinner, still smelling of alcohol. But he had heard the last question and frowned, asking: “Know what?” The atmosphere in the private room instantly became awkward. Chloe quickly covered it up, pulling over our friend Lena, who was good at palm reading, and clamoring to play a fortune-telling game. She forcibly changed the subject. “Come on, come on! Let’s get our marriage fortunes told!” A delicate wooden box was pushed in front of me. I casually drew a slip of paper and opened it. It read: “The flower of obsession will eventually wither, while the unheeded tree will flourish.” I looked at the words, my expression slightly stunned. *How true.* My obsession with Julian was finally about to fade. And this decision I made, the one I hadn’t truly believed in, might actually lead me to a new beginning. Unaware, the other classmates cheered, encouraging Julian to draw one too. He casually drew a slip and opened it. The few who leaned in to look instantly fell silent. The slip starkly read: “All for nothing.” A classmate immediately protested: “How is that possible! Everyone knows Dr. Reed and our Skylar have a stable relationship and are about to get married!” Those words made my knowing friends even more uncomfortable, but the scene was quickly swallowed by new laughter and chatter. Only Julian, staring at the slip of paper, looked thoughtful. Just then, his phone rang. Julian answered, listened for a few moments, and his expression suddenly changed drastically. He abruptly stood up, grabbing my wrist with a never-before-seen urgency and anxiety. “You’re coming to the hospital with me!” 8. Julian’s face was anxious, and he drove like a madman, taking me directly to the hospital rooftop. The evening wind was biting, chilling me to the bone. On the edge of the rooftop, an agitated man held a dagger tightly against Valerie Evans’s tear-streaked neck. The man was a disgruntled patient’s relative, harboring resentment, and had been tracking Julian. He’d mistakenly taken Valerie, who had been inseparable from Julian lately, for his girlfriend. “Julian Reed! You owe me my wife’s life!” The man roared, the cold gleam of the dagger flickering at Valerie’s throat. Julian saw Valerie crying and pleading for his help, his eyes instantly turning bloodshot. The next second. Julian grabbed my arm. A powerful force. He shoved me forward. I stumbled. The cold blade was right in front of my eyes. My back burned. It was the warmth of his hand, still lingering. Julian roared at the assailant: “Take her! She’s my fiancée!” The assailant froze. Then, a twisted,狂喜 grin spread across his face. “Oh? So this is the main course?” He pointed the knife at me, then at his feet. “Alright, you come over here.” The assailant laughed. The blade pressed into Valerie’s neck, drawing a thin line of blood. He stared at me as if I were a lifeless object. My ears filled with a roaring silence; I couldn’t draw a single breath as the cold wind rushed into my lungs. My mind went blank, all the blood in my veins seemed to freeze. I finally understood why Julian had so urgently dragged me from the alumni gathering: he was using me to exchange for Valerie’s life. The assailant fell for it and was about to make the exchange. Just at this critical moment, the police, who had been lying in wait, rushed out and subdued the assailant in one swift move. Valerie was safe. Julian immediately rushed to her, holding her tightly and comforting her nonstop. Valerie sobbed hysterically in his arms. It wasn’t until he confirmed Valerie was unharmed and her emotions had stabilized that Julian belatedly remembered me, the one he had pushed away. He walked towards me, his heart giving a sudden lurch, and explained: “Skylar, don’t be afraid. That was just a tactic to distract the assailant. Everything was under my control.” A tactic? I didn’t argue. Whether it was true or false no longer mattered. What mattered was that in a moment of life and death, he had unhesitatingly chosen to sacrifice me. In that moment, I looked at the man before me as if he were a complete stranger. The question that had lingered in my mind for so long finally had its answer. I truly, deeply regretted it. Regretted loving him. Over the next few days, Julian stayed by Valerie’s side, citing her need for companionship due to shock, completely forgetting that I, too, had been pushed towards a deadly blade. I no longer felt sad. My heart had already died. I returned to that so-called home and began calmly clearing out all items related to Julian. The wedding photo they had once cherished, I personally set alight, watching it turn to ash in the sink. All the matching toothbrushes, mugs, towels, and slippers were meticulously, one by one, tossed into a trash bag. I was going to cleanse this man from my world, completely and utterly. 9. I began to pack my own luggage. I had moved into this house with a heart full of joy, filling every corner with my presence, piece by piece. I naively thought that this would be enough to hold Julian’s heart. Now, it seemed utterly futile. When Julian came home, he found me folding clothes into a suitcase. He walked over proactively and asked: “Going on a business trip?” I had my back to him, a sarcastic curve to my lips, and readily admitted: “Yes, the company arranged it. Early flight tomorrow.” Julian didn’t think much of it. Perhaps out of guilt from what happened at the hospital, he uncharacteristically took the initiative to cook dinner. After dinner, he produced an exquisite gift box and handed it to me. “I’m sorry about the hospital incident.” Inside the box was an expensive fountain pen. I looked at the pen, my heart completely unmoved. I knew that all his unusual behavior stemmed from guilt, not love. Julian then said: “Valerie’s been in low spirits lately. I want to take a few days off to spend more time with her.” “As you wish,” my tone was as flat as if discussing the weather. Julian seemed pleased with my “understanding” response. He stepped forward and, uncharacteristically, hugged me from behind, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Once Valerie gets through this, I’ll make it up to you properly.” He promised. I didn’t respond. I knew, deep down, that there was no future between us anymore. The next morning, Julian bought breakfast and even offered to drive me to the airport. However, halfway through breakfast, his phone rang. No need to guess; it was Valerie. After hanging up, he once again said the phrase I’d heard countless times: “Skylar, I have an urgent matter that’s come up. I can’t drive you.” He told me to let him know when I returned, and he’d pick me up. With that, he turned and hurriedly left. I watched his resolute retreating back, a sight I’d seen countless times. This time, it was the last. I whispered softly: “Julian, I’m not coming back.” I took one last look around the house that held six years of my youth and love. On the living room table, I left a note. It contained only one line: “Julian, we’re over. I’m going home to get married.” Having done all that, I pulled my suitcase and walked out the door without a single ounce of regret. I hailed a taxi to the airport, resolute in my decision. It was a complete farewell to my past.
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