Chapter 1
The day the wedding date was set, I stumbled upon a post Ava Margan had made on her private account.
It was a rant, something she probably thought no one would ever see.
It read: [Got pushed into marriage again. Whatever. Guess I'll just go with it.]
Those words stabbed right into my heart.
I didn't sleep a single minute that night, scrolling through every post on her account from start to finish.
And finally, my eyes landed on one dated August 15th, seven years ago.
[Wish you happiness, even if it means I'll never have mine.]
That was the day Ava's first love left for another country to chase his dreams.
And that very night, Ava—who never touched alcohol—showed up at my door, drunk and heartbroken.
Her spaghetti strap slipped down her shoulder as she looked at me and whispered, "Dylan, maybe we should give it a try."
After the wedding date was set, both our families were thrilled.
So was I.
The only one who didn't seem happy was Ava.
She sat across from me, eyes lowered, expression unreadable.
Her mom gave her a gentle nudge.
Only then did Ava stand up and say goodbye to my parents.
"Take care on your way home, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes," she said.
My dad looked at her, a gentle sadness flickering in his eyes.
"Ava, you and Dylan, make sure you take good care of each other," he said.
"We will," Ava replied.
She looked genuinely earnest, not a trace of anything fake in her expression.
Almost made me wonder if what I saw earlier was just all in my head.
Everyone had a few drinks tonight.
After dropping off our parents, the Morgan family's driver swung back around to pick us up.
The car was dead quiet.
To be precise, Ava hadn't said a single word since our parents left.
She was completely absorbed in her phone, not paying the slightest attention to me.
Her fingers moved rapidly, swiping through apps nonstop without pausing for even a second.
The glow from the screen flickered on the window beside her, like her thoughts were as restless as her hands.
I watched her for a long while before finally speaking.
"Ava, you don't want to marry me, do you?" I asked quietly.
Ava paused for a second.
She turned off her screen.
"No," she said, her voice barely audible.
"But the way you acted today—" I started, only to be abruptly cut off by Ava.
"Dylan, I'm just a little tired," she murmured.
Another heavy silence fell between us, the air thick with unspoken words.
I parted my lips, but couldn't bring myself to speak. I just had no idea what else to say.
That had always been Ava's way—shutting people out, never letting me in.
We had already been together for seven years.
Back when we were just dating, I could let it slide.
But marriage? Living like this forever—it was the first time I actually felt scared.
"Oh, come on, don't overthink it," Ava said, her voice distant.
Ava squeezed my hand absentmindedly, then quickly pulled away and got out of the car, so fast she left her phone behind.
I sat there in the car, spacing out for a bit before finally climbing out.
As I stepped out, I picked up Ava's phone, almost out of habit.
Just as I was about to head upstairs, her phone buzzed in my hand.
A new message popped in.
No lock screen. I hesitated, then opened it.
It was a message from her friend Charlotte.
[Hey Ava, you owe us a seafood feast tomorrow night!] Charlotte texted.
Ava had plenty of friends and was always out somewhere, joining all sorts of dinner parties.
I just felt relieved and didn't give it a second thought.
But as I was going back, I fat-fingered my phone and switched to another page by accident.
And there it was. [Got pushed into marriage again. Whatever. Guess I'll just go with it.]
This was something Ava posted only thirty minutes ago.
Those words stabbed straight into my heart.
Ava snatched her phone, a flicker of suspicion flashing in her eyes.
"Why's my phone with you?" she said, narrowing her gaze.
"You left it in the car," I shrugged.
My voice came out rough, but she didn't even seem to notice.
She just gave a quick nod.
"Well... goodnight," she said, her voice totally flat.
Ava was serious about her beauty sleep—she always claimed it was the secret to staying beautiful.
Even after we started living together, she insisted on separate rooms.
Watching her leave, I slowly unclenched my fist, realizing how tightly I'd been holding it.
Suddenly, all the tension seemed to melt away.
Back in my room, I locked the door behind me.
I punched in that account ID—I'd memorized it ages ago.
I'd always figured it was just an alt.
Then I checked the registration date—turned out I was way off.
This account had been around for eight whole years.
The latest post was the one Ava had made in the car.
As I recalled the look on her face, my heart sank like it had fallen into an ice pit.
So her coldness and impatience weren't just in my head.
They were real.
We'd been together for seven years.
During that time, both our families had nagged us countless times to get married.
They just couldn't wait for us to finally tie the knot.
But I know Ava doesn't really want that.
She was even resistant to the idea.
So every time the topic came up, I was the one who jumped in, making excuses for her, covering for her.
If she hadn't said what she said at my birthday party a few months ago, I don't think I would've ever had the courage to take that first step.