That morning, Daphne had scrolled through her feed and come across a new post.
There was a photo of an open gift box, brimming with expensive presents.
The caption read: [My boyfriend always buys me random things. Most of them are fine, but this scarf is hideous. Might as well tie it around the dog's neck!]
So this was the scarf Luke had given her—one that Seraphine had discarded like trash, something only fit for a dog.
Just like all the other gifts.
Ever since Seraphine returned, he had been giving Daphne presents more frequently. At first, she had thought it was love. But now she understood—these were the things Seraphine didn't want.
And yet, she had treated them like treasures. She had held onto them and cherished them. She had convinced herself they meant something.
Until she saw Seraphine's posts. One after another. And finally, she woke up from her dream.
"What's wrong, Daphne? You don't like it?"
Daphne tucked the scarf away and forced a faint smile. "I like it."
Luke let out a breath, relieved. He thought she had let it go. "Babe, don't overthink things. It's just a piece of paper. With or without it, I'll still love you just the same."
She pressed down the coldness in her chest. "I'm tired. Let's sleep."
"Alright."
Luke kissed her forehead lightly, never noticing the storm behind her eyes.
That night, as his breathing grew steady in sleep, Daphne lay awake in the dark.
Was it really just bad timing? Had he truly not been ready to marry her?
Or was it because his heart still belonged to someone else—that she was just Seraphine's replacement?
Last week, she had seen Seraphine for the first time.
She had gone to find Luke at his usual club. As she passed by a private room, she heard a voice she recognized.
She glanced inside.
There he was, holding a woman in his arms. His gaze was filled with deep, aching tenderness. His voice, thick with emotion, repeated the same name over and over.
"Seraphine… Seraphine…"
Each word was an arrow, piercing straight through her.
She froze, rooted to the floor.
In that moment, she finally understood—he had never been looking at her. He had only been seeing her through the shadow of someone else.
After that, she couldn't stop herself. She searched for Seraphine's social media.
She scrolled through post after post, her hands turning ice cold.
Then, a new update appeared before her eyes.
Seraphine had posted a photo of a milk tea shop on the outskirts of town. A tall man stood in line, his back to the camera.
The caption read: [Feels just like old times. No matter how long the line, you'd always wait if I wanted this milk tea.]
Daphne stared at the screen. Her mind went blank.
Seconds later, a comment popped up beneath it: [Seraphine, welcome home. From now on, your milk tea is on me.]
She clicked on the profile picture.
A simple avatar—two bold letters, LS, paired with a single white rose.
And in an instant, she knew. It was Luke's private account.
Suddenly, everything made sense.
The initials embroidered on his cuffs, and his inexplicable fondness for white roses. Everything led back to Seraphine.
That night, after Luke fell asleep, she couldn't help herself. She reached for his tablet and tried logging into his private account.
She tried her birthday. His birthday. Their anniversary. Even Seraphine's birthday. None of them worked.
Then she remembered a date she had seen in one of Seraphine's posts—the day they first got together.
She typed it in.
The screen shifted. She was in.
And what she found there felt like a knife twisting deep inside her.
Photo after photo—memories frozen in time.
The two of them at the beach, wrapped in each other's arms, love in their eyes vast enough to swallow the sea.
On a cobblestone path, he held an umbrella over her, gazing down at her like she was his entire world.
At the peak of a mountain, they watched the sunrise, their silhouettes outlined in gold. They brimmed with happiness, pure and untainted.
Every post, every caption, was a fragment of the love they had shared. And now, each one pressed down on Daphne like an unbearable weight, crushing her completely.
She didn't sleep that night.
And by morning, after hours of silent torment, she made her decision.
She would go home. She would accept the marriage her parents had arranged.
She wouldn't love Luke anymore.
