Lies. It was all lies.
"There are only 20 days left until our wedding. I'll stay home with you during this time and make sure you become the most beautiful bride, okay?"
"Unfortunately, there's no future for us," I thought to myself.
He wiped away my tears with his fingertips.
When those alluring eyes locked onto you, they made you believe he was deeply in love.
"I'm going out for a smoke. You'll be discharged soon."
Maybe Christopher trusted me too much, or perhaps he didn't care whether I overthought things. After all, he was just following his friend's advice, putting on an act of devotion.
So, I picked up his phone, which kept buzzing with notifications.
The password was my birthday.
I had always known it, but I had never checked before.
I unlocked the phone smoothly and noticed a young woman saved as "Peach Blossom" had sent him a flood of messages.
They had only added each other yesterday.
"Chris, you went back so late. Remember to get some rest, okay?"
"I heard you're getting married. Can you send me an invitation? I want to share in your happiness too!"
"I saw you holding your stomach when you got off the plane. Are you feeling unwell?"
"I made you some oatmeal. It's good for your stomach. Don't you think I deserve some praise?"
He hadn't replied to all her messages, except for the last one.
"Send it to this address."
I turned my head and looked at the pink thermos on the table.
Nausea washed over me once more.
The girl continued messaging him.
"Are you sick? Are you okay? I can stay at the hospital with you."
"If you finish the oatmeal, I can make more."
"Take care of yourself, Chris."
"I sat in the lobby all night. My legs are numb. My stomach hurts from my period."
…
I closed the messages, marked them as unread, and got out of bed.
In the lobby, I saw them—Christopher and that same girl from yesterday.
I stood still, watching them laugh and chat through the crowd.
She gestured animatedly, her ponytail bouncing.
At one point, she pouted and touched her stomach, and Christopher reached out and ruffled her hair.
For a split second, I felt like an outsider, sneaking a peek at something I had no right to see.
From last night's kiss to today's affectionate gestures… It was clear that Christopher liked her.
And why wouldn't he?
Who wouldn't like someone who quietly cared for them, never asked for anything in return, and had eyes only for them?
I let out a self-deprecating laugh.
Turning away, I headed toward the corner—only to run into Hugh.
He stepped out of the shadows, his gaze dark as he stared toward Christopher. "Is this the opponent you chose for me?"
I met his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself."
"Jessica, why did you stop pursuing me?"
I found his question absurd.
I had pursued him for a decade. Was that not enough?
Ever since I stopped, he had gone out of his way to remind me of his presence.
Maybe he never liked me, and just like Christopher, he just didn't like losing.
"And you're still going through with the wedding?" Hugh asked.
My lips twitched. "Mind your own business. I gave up on you a long time ago. I really, truly, don't want to see you anymore."
I brushed past him.
"Does it not bother you even if he had someone else?" he called after me.
Of course, it bothered me.
I placed a hand on my chest, trying to soothe the pain.
However, I knew that one day, it would stop hurting.
Just 20 more days. I had to endure it.
On the way home with Christopher, I casually mentioned, "I accidentally ruined the wedding gown. Do you think that's a bad omen?"
I watched his reaction closely.
He only frowned slightly before turning to hold my hand, smiling at me with the same tender look as always.
"Then we'll go pick out a new one tomorrow, okay?"
