1 At the concert, Miles suddenly signaled the band to stop. The music cut out, and he began to tell a story: a heartwarming tale of a young couple who had been together for seven years, starting from scratch in the city and building their dreams together. “They went from being wide-eyed graduates to finding their own success, always supporting each other along the way.” “And tonight, this brave girl has asked me to help her pull off the ultimate surprise.” The crowd went wild. Cheers, screams, and whistles rattled the rafters of the arena. I stood backstage, clutching the velvet ring box, a nervous but happy smile on my lips. Miles pointed to Section 3, Row A. He spoke into the mic, his voice booming over the sound system, “Are you ready to be the happiest man in this arena and say yes?” “Preston?” The spotlight swept over the crowd, landing on him. Suddenly, a bizarre, suffocating silence fell over the venue. Preston’s tense face appeared on the giant screens. And right next to him, clinging tightly to his arm, was a bewildered, beautiful young woman. I sat backstage for a long time, staring at my silent phone. Preston never called. Instead, Miles walked into the dressing room, still radiating the heat and adrenaline of the stage. He handed me a cold drink, his eyes filled with quiet apology. “Nora, I’m so sorry.” I looked up, startled by the guilt in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking genuinely sheepish. “It’s your birthday today, right? I’m sorry I gave you such a terrible birthday present.” My eyes burned instantly. So, someone actually remembered. I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a smile, and told him it was fine. Miles hesitated, then invited me to join his after-party. I shook my head, declining gently. When I finally got back to our apartment, the living room was dark. But there was a soft, flickering glow on the dining table. A beautifully decorated cake sat in the center, the candle flame casting a warm, cozy light. Next to it lay a fresh bouquet of red roses. My heart skipped a beat. Preston had never remembered my birthday. For seven years, I was the one who ordered the cake, booked the restaurant, and invited our friends. He would simply show up after everything was arranged, offering a casual “Happy birthday.” So, what was this? An apology? “Happy birthday.” Preston walked out of the kitchen, carrying a plate. Before I could decide how to react, a girl wearing a paper birthday hat stepped out behind him. It was the girl from the concert. When they saw me standing in the doorway, they both froze. The girl tugged at Preston’s sleeve. “Preston… who is she? Why is she in our apartment?” Our apartment? I stared at him, utterly bewildered. Preston remains perfectly calm. He sets the plate down, gently pats her head, and says, “This is my cousin, Nora. She’s staying with us for a bit. Go ahead and sit down, sweetheart.” Then, he took my arm and pulled me out onto the balcony, closing the glass door behind us. He kept his voice low, his tone carrying that familiar, gentle warmth. “Her name is Isla. She’s the daughter of my late college professor. Before he passed, he asked me to look after her.” “She went through some severe trauma and was receiving treatment abroad. She just got back.” “She has no family left in the country, and I’m one of the only people she trusts.” “Nora, you’ve always been the understanding one. Can we let her stay here for a while? Just until her treatment is finished?” Preston’s hand was warm and heavy as he rubbed the back of my hand, his voice laced with a desperate plea. “Since when am I your cousin?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “The doctor said she’s highly unstable right now. She… she wouldn’t be able to handle the news that I have a fiancée.” The spring breeze on the balcony felt suddenly freezing. “For how long?” Seeing me relenting, he let out a sigh of relief and pulled me into his arms. He rested his chin on the top of my head, his voice deep and soothing. “It depends on her recovery. We’re getting married soon anyway, and we have the rest of our lives together. Don’t be bitter with a sick girl, okay?” Back at the table, Preston smiled at Isla. “What did you wish for?” Isla clung to his arm, offering a sweet, hopeful smile. “To never be apart from you again, of course.” Preston cut a slice of cake and slid it to her. “Then, happy birthday, Isla. May all your wishes come true.” Her eyes sparkled. “Thank you, Preston.” I stood there frozen for a few seconds before forcing a polite smile. Quietly, I whispered to myself, Happy birthday. 2 After the cake, Preston brought out three bowls of noodles. Each bowl had a perfectly fried egg on top, crispy and golden around the edges, just the way I liked them. But as I picked up my fork, Preston’s next action made me freeze. He reached into his bowl, carefully separated the yolk from the white, and dropped the yolk into his own bowl. Then, he placed the perfect, untouched egg white into Isla’s bowl. “Here.” Isla stared at the egg white, a faraway look in her eyes. “Preston, you’re still the same.” “Back in college, I loved egg whites but hated the yolks, but I hated wasting them too.” “Every time we ate, you’d always eat the yolks for me.” My grip on my fork tightened. Preston hates egg yolks. For seven years, whether it was boiled eggs for breakfast or fried eggs on our burgers, I was always the one who ate his yolks. Yet, he ate them for Isla without a second thought. It was an instinct, a deeply ingrained habit that seven years of separation couldn’t erase. The food tasted like ash. Before I even take a bite, I am completely full. That night, Preston tucked Isla into the guest room first. I sat in our bedroom, listening to their soft, whispered conversation through the thin wall, occasionally punctuated by Isla’s light laughter. It was late when he finally slipped into our room. Seeing me sitting up in bed, he blinked in surprise. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” I forced my voice to remain steady. “Preston, we need to talk.” He walked over, giving me an apologetic hug before lying down beside me, rubbing his temples. “Nora, I’ve had such a long, exhausting week. Let’s talk about this some other time.” “Oh, and one more thing.” “In the future, please let me know before you plan something like that concert. Luckily, Isla thought it was just a misunderstanding and didn’t think much of it, otherwise, she might have had an episode.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he had already closed his eyes. Within minutes, his breathing evens out. He was fast asleep. At two in the morning, I got up to use the restroom. The moment I opened the door, I nearly jumped out of my skin. A dark figure was standing right in front of me. A sharp gasp caught in my throat. In the dim moonlight filtering through the window, I recognized Isla. She was standing there in her thin nightgown, her face stained with tears, staring at me with a chilling intensity. The sound of my gasp woke Preston. He rushed out of the bedroom, bare-footed. He shoved me aside, pulling Isla into his arms. “What’s wrong? What happened?” Isla buried her face in his chest, her entire body shaking as she let out broken, pathetic sobs. Preston held her tight, looking up at me. His brow was furrowed, his voice low but sharp with accusation. “You terrified her.” I stood there, dumbfounded. Isla suddenly looked up, her eyes wild and bloodshot as she screamed at me, “Get out! This is my home! Get out of here!” Her voice was shrill, and her body shook violently as if she was slipping into a manic episode. Preston held her tighter, murmuring soothing words before looking back at me. “Nora, maybe you should… take a walk. Step out for a bit.” Step out. If I can’t even stay in my own home, where am I supposed to go? I didn’t say a word. I turned around, walked into our bedroom, and pulled my suitcase from the closet. Ten minutes later, I am dragging my suitcase down the silent, empty streets in the dead of night. 3 I went back to my parents’ house. Three days pass, and Preston doesn’t call once. My mother looks at me with concern. “Nora, did you and Preston have a fight?” “No, Mom. He’s just away on a business trip, so I thought I’d come spend some time with you.” I try to reassure her while keeping my eyes glued to my phone, my heart sinking further with every post I read. The failed proposal at the concert has gone viral. The hashtag #ConcertProposalFail is trending at number one. What started as a piece of internet gossip has turned into a massive scandal as people begin to recognize Preston and Isla. “Calling all class of 2020! Isn’t that our old campus sweetheart?” “It’s her! Definitely her! She won the campus beauty poll by a landslide back then. Her mother was a famous professor, too.” “And the guy next to her… isn’t that the legendary law school genius, Preston?” “All the guys in our department had a bet going on who could get her out on a date. Nobody succeeded.” “She only had eyes for Preston. I remember she practically broke the campus forum when she tagged him with: ‘I like you, deal with it.’” Within hours, the story explodes. And as I morbidly scroll through the comments, the puzzle of Preston’s past, the past he never wanted to share with me, falls into place. During Isla’s junior year, her parents died in a car accident. She had a mental breakdown, and her aunt took her abroad for treatment. Preston had looked for her like a madman. But she had vanished overnight, cutting all ties, leaving him with no way to find her. “Oh my god, he probably thought she abandoned him without a word.” “So he tried to move on, and then his first love suddenly reappears? This is some tragic movie-level drama.” “The fiancée is basically an interloper. This is a true reunion of soulmates.” “I feel bad for the fiancée, but she just showed up at the wrong time.” My mother walks in with a glass of warm milk, sitting down beside me as I stare blankly at my phone. “Nora, my surgery is next month.” “You know the doctors said the success rate isn’t high… I’m old, and I’m not afraid of dying.” I look up sharply, my eyes burning. “Mom, don’t say that. The surgery will be a success.” She takes my hand, her eyes filled with hope. “I’m just worried about you.” “My biggest wish in this life is to see you settled down. If something happens to me, I want to know you have a family of your own to keep you safe.” I force a bright smile. “Don’t worry, Mom. The wedding is set for the end of this month. Nothing has changed.” A look of relief finally washes over her face. I look down, taking a slow sip of the milk, my vision blurring. 4 The internet is far more ruthless than I ever imagined. As Isla’s tragic past goes viral, an army of romantic fans starts rooting for her and Preston to get back together. They write endless threads about their tragic love story, while I am painted as the scheming homewrecker who stole her man. Before long, my family’s personal information is leaked online. A picture of my mother, her back bent as she holds a few empty plastic bottles, is posted on a gossip forum. “These old people are so annoying, digging through the recycling bins. Disgusting!” “Agreed. No wonder she raised such a shameless daughter.” “A family of homewreckers deserves to be exposed.” My heart constricts. My mother is a clean freak; she would never rummage through trash. She only did that because she felt sorry for the elderly, mute woman down the street, secretly collecting bottles to give to her so the poor woman could buy medicine. But the internet doesn’t care about the truth. My hands shake as I call Preston. “Preston, people online are calling me a homewrecker. Now they’re targeting my mother…” Silence on the other end. “Nora, I know you’re hurting. But Isla is just starting to show signs of recovery. The doctor said she can’t handle any stress.” “She gets anxious even knowing I have friends. If she finds out I have a fiancée…” “What about me?” I interrupt, my voice cracking. “My mother is being harassed, I’m being cyberbullied, and none of that matters to you?” “I never said it didn’t matter,” he says, his voice soft but utterly exhausted. “But you’ve always been the strong one, Nora. Just hold on a little longer. Once she’s better, I’ll take care of everything.” I hang up. The next day, I walk into my office to find a cardboard box on my desk. I open it, and a dead rat stares back at me with bloody, lifeless eyes. I let out a terrified scream. My colleagues turn to look, covering their noses and backing away in disgust. Before I can even clean it up, the HR director calls me into her office. “Nora, given the current public controversy, the company has decided to terminate your contract. Here is your severance package. Please sign.” I walk out of the office building carrying my things in a cardboard box, a light rain falling around me. A black sedan speeds past, its side mirror clipping my arm. I lose my footing, dropping the box. My personal belongings scatter into the wet street. Laughter echoes from the open car window. “That’s what you get for stealing someone’s man!” I kneel in the rain, picking up my wet things one by one. I call Preston again. He must be with Isla. He hangs up three times, but I stubbornly redial. On the fourth try, he finally answers. “Preston, you need to come over to my parents’ house today.” “Nora, I know you’re anxious about the wedding,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “But the timing is just wrong.” “Preston, my mother’s surgery is next month. The success rate is only thirty percent. Her biggest wish is to see me walk down the aisle, and you know that… We agreed on this. The wedding is set for the end of the month!” A long pause. Then, a heavy sigh. “Nora, I’ve pulled some strings and contacted the top surgeon in the country to perform your mother’s surgery. The success rate will be over seventy percent.” “But… I have a favor to ask.” “The doctor says Isla’s recovery has hit a plateau. The only thing she wants right now is… to have a wedding.” My fingers tighten around the phone. “And?” “Could you let her have the wedding? It’s just a ceremony, a performance to help her heal. I promise I’ll throw you an even grander wedding later.” The rain pours heavier now. The cardboard box is soaked through, and our framed photo lies face down in a puddle, the ink running, Preston’s smiling face blurring into nothing. I slowly stand up, brushing the wet dirt from my knees. A hollow, broken smile touches my lips. “Sure. I agree.” I hang up, open my messaging app, and find Miles’s contact. My finger hovers over the screen for a long time before I type out a single line: Are you willing to be my groom on the 30th of this month?
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