“Go get plastic surgery. I’ll pay for it, and afterward, I’ll marry you.”
Jason’s voice dripped with arrogance, as if he were granting me the world on a silver platter.
“Paula looks exactly like you. It’s a scar in her heart and this is how you’ll make it up to her. It’s the price you pay to marry me.”
I stared at him in disbelief before ripping off the ring on my finger—the one engraved with Paula’s initials—and hurling it straight into his face.
“Not a chance.”
I turned on my heel and walked toward the room, but his mocking voice followed me like a shadow.
“Hailey, stop pretending. Don’t you want to get married? Don’t be ridiculous.”
His tone was smug and confident. “Until you get that face fixed, don’t even think about walking down the aisle with me.”
He truly believed marriage was a leash that could control me. Little did he know—I’ve never been the kind of woman to beg for scraps.
***
The next morning, hunger woke me up. I hadn’t eaten anything since getting off the plane, so I decided to make myself breakfast. As I quietly ate, Jason stumbled into the kitchen, still groggy and tousled from sleep.
The moment he saw me, his eyes widened in shock. In a single stride, he snatched the chopsticks right out of my hands.
“What are you doing?” I asked, startled.
His brows furrowed in irritation. “Paula has a cleanliness obsession. If she finds out you touched these, she’ll refuse to eat.”
He muttered to himself, as if coaxing Paula was the hardest task in the world. “You have no idea how much effort it takes to calm her down.”
Just then, the sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the apartment.
Paula stepped inside, her expression tense, as though she were bracing herself for something.
“Paula!” Jason’s face lit up instantly and he hid the chopsticks behind his back like a guilty child. “You’re back! You’ve come to your senses, haven’t you?”
But Paula ignored him. She walked straight ahead, her voice calm but resolute. “No, I’m just here to grab my things. I’ll leave after that.”
Panic flashed across Jason’s face. He darted in front of her, his voice trembling. “What are you saying, Paula? This is your home!”
“You’re not an outsider, you’ll never be an outsider. You’re my Paula.” He grabbed her hands and declared passionately, “If anyone dares to drive you out, they’ll have to go through me first!”
Paula’s eyes filled with tears. “Do you really mean that?”
“Of course.” Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight embrace, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks like she was a fragile doll.
They acted as if I didn’t exist, but I couldn’t care less. I had plans of my own.
***
That night, Jason announced that I would sleep in the guest room. His excuse?
“Paula isn’t used to sleeping here.”
I watched him eagerly usher Paula toward the master bedroom and casually asked, “So, you’re sleeping with her now?”
He flinched, as though caught red-handed. “Of course not. Paula is just afraid of being alone at night, so I’ll keep her company. I’ll sleep on the floor—don’t get the wrong idea.”
I didn’t reply. But later that night, through the thin walls, I heard the unmistakable sounds of suppressed moans and the bedframe rattling violently.
The next morning, Jason emerged from the room looking refreshed and satisfied, while Paula clung to his arm, her face flushed with shy delight.
Over breakfast, Paula suddenly perked up and announced, “Let’s go race car driving today!”
The words hit me like a punch. Race cars—something that had once been ours.
I fell in love with Jason because of racing. Back then, during a chaotic race, a car had spun out of control and hurtled straight into the crowd. Jason had thrown himself in front of me, shielding me from the crash and ended up in the emergency room.
That day, I promised myself I’d marry him. And he had promised me the same.
Now, watching him sit beside Paula, smiling fondly, the memory left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Paula turned to me unexpectedly, her voice sweet yet sharp. “Hailey, you should come too.”
I opened my mouth to refuse, but Jason shot me an irritated glare.
“Stop looking like you’re mourning your own funeral. Don’t ruin the mood.”
Before I could react, he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the car.
Paula immediately slid into the passenger seat, leaving me no choice but to sit in the back. I didn’t care. I had more important things to do—I answered a call and spoke quietly, ignoring their antics.
“Hailey,” my mother’s voice came through the line, “let’s set the wedding for one month from now.”
