A week before my wedding to Lucas Gray, his first love got divorced. He brought her to me, asking to call off our engagement: “Vivian, I don’t want to settle.” “No matter how hard you try to imitate her, you’ll never measure up.” I calmly walked away, cut my long hair short, and put on my biker jacket. I returned to my true battlefield. He sneered to his friends: “Who would like such a wild woman? She’s not marriage material at all.” Until a photo suddenly circulated in their circles. In the picture, a delicate white hand rested on the chest of the most notorious young master in high society, who was straddling a motorcycle. His tattooed, muscular arm wrapped tightly around the woman’s waist. The photo oozed with raw chemistry. Lucas finally called: “Vivian, who is he?” The reply came from another man’s lazy voice: “Hey, ex-boyfriend. Let me introduce myself. I’m her lawful husband.” I was at the bridal shop for my final fitting. In two weeks, I was supposed to marry Lucas Gray. Although the wedding dress was custom-made, it felt a bit tight around the chest and waist. As I went to the fitting room to adjust it, I suddenly heard voices growing clearer outside: “Hey, did you hear? Lucas Gray’s ex-girlfriend, Sophia Miller, just got divorced and returned to the country.” “I remember when she broke up with Lucas three years ago, he was utterly devastated.” “Indeed. If Vivian Reed hadn’t suddenly appeared and helped him through that dark time, who knows if he’d have ever recovered.” “Who’s Vivian Reed again? Oh right, the most rebellious princess of high society! I can’t believe she actually tamed herself for Lucas Gray.” “But now that Sophia is back, do you think the wedding will still happen?” “The invitations have already been sent out. If it falls through, won’t they become the laughingstock of our circles?” … After their voices faded, I took off the ill-fitting wedding dress. I called Lucas. He didn’t answer, but amidst the background noise, I heard his voice: “She’s just a poor imitation. Vivian can’t even compare to Sophia’s little finger.” Someone else chimed in: “But Vivian used to be known as hard to chase and even harder to tame. Bro, you should be satisfied.” Lucas scoffed: “How hard to tame? For the past three years, she’s been following me around like a puppy.” “Well, you still ended up engaged to her.” “Bro, don’t you like her?” Lucas’s voice turned cold: “Would you like a dog?” Someone in the crowd continued to ask: “Then why are you marrying her?” There was a moment of silence. After a while, I heard Lucas’s voice again: “It’s amusing to see such a wild girl become docile. It’s fun to play with her.” I hung up the phone. Looking at my long, straight black hair in the mirror. And the faded tattoos on my arms and collarbone. I suddenly smiled. I’ve had enough of playing this good girl act.
Lucas didn’t come home for a week. I listed our marital home on a real estate platform. Every brick and tile in this place was bought by me. I didn’t want any of it anymore. After finishing up, I finally received his call asking to meet. He had arranged the gathering but was the last to arrive. When he came in, the fragile and pitiful Sophia Miller was trailing behind him. She looked about 50% similar to how I looked now. He held her hand tightly, as if protecting her from any harm, his protective stance unmistakable. The air suddenly became still. No one dared to speak. All eyes turned to me. I remained silent, looking down at the red string bracelet on my wrist that was almost worn through. I smirked slightly. Until Lucas brought her in front of me: “Vivian, I’m calling off the wedding.” I lifted my eyes slightly, calmly looking at him: “You want to break the engagement?” He held Sophia tighter, looking at her adoringly: “Sophia’s back. I don’t want to settle.” “No matter how hard you try to imitate her, you’ll never measure up.” “Do you understand? I don’t love you.” I nodded: “Mm-hmm.” He looked at me in disbelief, as if my calm reaction wasn’t what he expected. “You know our parents arranged this marriage.” “I loved Sophia for five years and waited for her for three. She’s been hurt deeply, and I want to give her a home.” I was getting impatient and grabbed my bag from beside me: “Okay, are you done?” Lucas paused, silent for a moment before continuing: “I’ll handle things with my family. You deal with yours. We won’t be getting married next week.” “Alright.” I stood up and walked towards the exit. As I reached the door, Lucas suddenly called out: “Vivian?” I turned back. He was still standing in the same spot, but I noticed his free hand clenched tightly at his side. “Anything else?” He frowned: “Don’t you have anything to say to me?” I thought for a moment. I actually wanted to say that I envied him. His first love could come back, but mine never would. In the end, I just said calmly: “Congratulations on your new marriage.” As I closed the door, I heard voices behind me: “Seriously? That’s all the reaction Vivian has?” “Lucas, didn’t you say she was madly in love with you? Why isn’t she making a scene?” “Shut up.” It was Lucas’s angry voice. I didn’t look back. I should have realized earlier that no matter how similar Lucas was, he wasn’t Ryan. Ryan would never have abandoned me for someone else.
After leaving, I went to a hair salon. I cut off the long hair I had grown for three years. When my new short blue hair appeared, I felt like I was becoming myself again. I also got a new tattoo on my wrist: “Je ne recule jamais”. It’s French, meaning “I never back down”. Finally, I went to a shop I hadn’t visited in three years. “Kevin, bring out my bike.” A shirtless, muscular man walked out of the shop. He looked at me in surprise, his eyes reddening. It took him a moment to react: “Miss… Vivian?” “Yeah. It’s me.” The tall guy, standing over six feet, looked me up and down, stumbling over his words: “Miss Vivian, how… why are you here?” I looked at the two bikes displayed in the most prominent position. One white, one black. I smiled: “They’re still here.” “Miss Vivian, I polish these two bikes every day. They’re as good as new. You can ride anytime. Where do you want to go? Should I call the guys?” I shook my head: “Just bring it out. I want to go for a ride alone.” “Okay.” As I got on the bike, a long-forgotten feeling washed over me. It had been so long since I’d ridden. It was as if by not riding, I could forget what happened that summer. I looked back at the black Kawasaki, thinking of him. Kevin followed my gaze, his eyes reddening: “I’ve been waiting for Ryan too. I’ve kept his bike here, untouched, next to yours. I always thought that one day, they’d hit the road again together.” “Miss Vivian, it’s been three years. I’ve waited for you to come back. Will he come back too?” I paused for a moment. Has it really been three years? “They say if you listen to ‘The Clock of the Opposite Direction’ 1000 times, you can see the person you miss. I’ve finished listening, but why hasn’t Ryan come back?” I turned my head, feeling a sting in my nose, but still gently comforted him: “That’s just a myth. The dead can’t come back to life.” Then I started the motorcycle. Kevin didn’t know that I had already listened to it 10,000 times. I rode all the way to the mountaintop, looking down at the scenery below, I shouted: “Ryan Wild, I did as you said and tried to marry well. Why aren’t you back yet?” Tears rolled down my cheeks. “Liar, you said you wanted to see me in a wedding dress. Look, in the end, I can only wear it for you.” “But it doesn’t fit. I’ve been eating well and living properly, why doesn’t it fit?” “Can you hold me? The wind is so strong, and I’m so tired.” On the empty mountaintop, there was an endless sea of stars. The moon cast a soft light over the entire landscape. Everything became gentle. Behind me, there was a rustling sound. I turned around abruptly, but there was no one there. It was just the sound of insects.
I composed myself and rode down the mountain. Suddenly, I noticed the black Kawasaki was gone. “Kevin!” I quickly got off the bike and called towards the shop: “Where’s the bike? Who took it?” A horn sounded behind me. My heart was beating faster than ever before. For some reason, tears were already streaming down my face. I gently touched my chest and slowly turned around. Under the dim streetlight, Ryan was leaning against his motorcycle, dressed in black, his features as rebellious and wild as ever, exuding a bad boy charm. He raised an eyebrow at me: “My little spitfire, still so quick to cry?”
It was like going back to the first time we met. My parents were fighting because I was unruly, and they had beaten me badly. I had only suggested they stop torturing each other and get divorced sooner. What was wrong with that? I ran away and hid alone, crying. Halfway through my crying session, I heard a lazy, carefree laugh: “Whose little spitfire is hiding here crying?” Ryan, with his hands behind his head, slowly sat up and moved next to me, offering me a tissue: “Crying alone is too lonely. You don’t know me anyway, so I can be a quiet listener.” That year, we were both fifteen. I didn’t tell him why I was crying. But he sat with me for the whole afternoon. Later, I got to know him, the school bully from the neighboring school. Rumor had it he was fierce and ruthless in fights. He was also known as a “bastard”, without a father. Perhaps it was fate, but we gradually got to know each other. He would take me to the mountaintop to watch the stars. He introduced all his friends to me. The care and affection I didn’t receive at home, he gave me in abundance. He would also tell me to be true to myself. Because some people just like me for who I am. He would appear in front of me every time I had a fight with my family, gently hugging me, letting me vent my emotions. He would also seek revenge for me, teaching a lesson to those who spoke ill of me or said I wasn’t a good girl. He said: “Vivian, no one can define whether a person is good or bad, and no one can judge you. You are who you are.” I would also confront those who called him a bastard. When he didn’t want to talk, I would quietly stay by his side, telling him he wasn’t alone. I said: “Ryan, you don’t need to be a certain way to be worthy. Your existence itself is meaningful.” Everyone said that he, usually so rebellious and cold, only became gentle in front of me. Like two people drifting in the deep sea, we finally found our lifeline in each other. Ryan and I grew closer. After high school graduation. We started dating. That night, a group of us rode to the mountaintop, cheering and celebrating our coming of age. Then he quietly took my hand behind the group. Pulling me into a run. In that moment, there was only the sound of our breathing. “Ryan, doesn’t this feel like we’re eloping?” I still remember that summer. It had the fullest moon, the brightest stars, and the most melodious cicada songs. And the most sincere eyes of a young man. Under the starry sky. We embraced and kissed. As if that moment was eternity.
“Ryan, you’re finally back. I’ve missed you so much.” My voice trembled, my body even shaking slightly. “Why are you crying? Come here, let me hold you.” I rushed forward. But what I saw was Kevin pushing the bike towards me: “Miss Vivian, why are you crying?” “Didn’t Ryan always say his bike should never be alone without yours? So when you rode off, I brought out his bike and started it up.” Oh. It was just my imagination earlier. I turned away, wiping my tears. Some say you shouldn’t meet someone too amazing when you’re young, or everyone you meet afterwards will pale in comparison. My obsession ran too deep. For the past three years, I hadn’t faced reality, still praying for a miracle to happen.
When I got back, everyone was waiting for me. Seeing my blue hair and biker outfit, my mom was furious: “Look at yourself! What kind of appearance is this?” “You don’t look like a proper girl at all. No wonder Lucas doesn’t want you.” I stood by the door. Suddenly, I didn’t want to go in anymore. As I turned to leave, my dad called out: “Where do you think you’re going?” “Get in here.” “Call the Gray family and apologize. Tell them you won’t marry anyone but Lucas.” “The wedding invitations have already been sent out. There’s no way we’re not going through with this.” “And get rid of that ridiculous color on your head. The Gray family doesn’t like flashy women, understand?” I slowly walked up to them. I smiled: “Why should I apologize? He’s the one who wants to give his ex-girlfriend a home, he’s the one who wants to call off the engagement. What’s wrong with me letting him go?” My dad stood up and slapped me across the face: “You fool! Even if he’s being stupid, how can you be so dense? Use your brain and think, would the Gray family allow a divorced woman to enter their family?” My face stung. He continued: “So what if he has a woman outside? In our circles, everyone turns a blind eye to these things. As long as it doesn’t threaten your position as Mrs. Gray, what do you have to be angry about?” I gently touched my cheek, smirking: “You two can play around separately, but I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” My dad, his chest heaving with anger, grabbed a cup from the table and threw it at me: “A bastard died, so what? It’s been three years, are you going to mope around and be a widow for the rest of your life?” “Vivian Reed, I’ll say it one more time, this wedding cannot be called off! Even if you have to die, you’ll die as part of the Gray family!”
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