Chapter 2

The person standing at the church entrance was Emma.

She wore an off-white maxi dress, her hair loosely pinned back, cradling a bouquet of white lilies.

She wasn't dressed up, yet she was still beautiful, carrying a gentle aura that easily disarmed people.

If this had been the first time meeting her, I probably would have thought she was just a single mother in need of help.

But her timing was too perfect.

She had arrived less than twenty minutes after Ryan left.

Every eye in the church fell upon her.

Instead of rushing to me, Emma first nodded politely to the priest and the guests, her face bearing just the right amount of guilt.

"I am so, so sorry."

"This is all my fault."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it was enough for the first few rows to hear clearly.

"Lucas suddenly had a high fever, and I really didn't know what to do alone. Ryan was only worried about the child, which is why he rushed over."

After saying this, she took a few steps closer to me and offered me the flowers.

"Claire, I’m so sorry."

"I know how important today is to you."

I didn't take the bouquet.

Not because the flowers weren't beautiful.

But because I suddenly realized that in her three sentences, she had placed Ryan in a position where he "had no choice but to leave."

She didn't defend Ryan.

She didn't ask for my forgiveness, either.

She simply dragged everyone over to her side.

Sure enough, whispers started rising from the back rows.

"The child is only six."

"It’s understandable for Dr. Foster to do that."

"Claire wouldn't really cancel the wedding over this, would she?"

I heard it.

And Emma, of course, heard it too.

She bit her lower lip gently, looking even more guilt-ridden.

"If my husband were still alive, I would never trouble Ryan."

"Since James passed away, I’ve kept telling myself not to rely on others for everything."

"But Lucas kept crying and calling for Ryan today..."

She stopped there, leaving the sentence hanging.

She didn't need to say the rest.

Others would naturally fill in the blanks for her.

—A widow who lost her husband, a child with a raging fever, a kind and responsible doctor.

And me, the one standing at her own wedding, refusing to show them any grace.

I finally understood why, over all these years, no matter what happened, I was always the one apologizing in the end.

Because Emma never fought with me.

She just made everyone else feel like I was the one picking a fight.

My mother walked over and gently squeezed my hand.

Her fingers were trembling, her voice thick with suppressed anger. "Claire, you don't have to endure this if you don't want to. Your father and I are right here."

My father’s face was completely dark. He glared at Emma, whispering to me, "This is a circus. If Ryan doesn't come back in ten minutes, we are calling this whole thing off and taking you home."

Ryan’s mother walked over as well, her expression more embarrassed than apologetic as she patted my shoulder. "Claire, I know you’ve been wronged. But Ryan is a doctor—saving lives is his duty. You know how soft-hearted he is. He couldn't just leave a sick child."

I looked up at her, my voice cold as ice. "Does his soft heart only apply to other people's families? What about his promise to marry me today?"

She froze, unable to answer.

Seeing the confrontation heating up, Emma’s eyes flickered.

Suddenly, her face drained of color.

She swayed on her feet, the bouquet of white lilies slipping from her hands and scattering across the floor.

She let out a soft, pained gasp, collapsing backward onto the pew as if she were about to faint from exhaustion and distress.

"Emma!" Ryan's mother rushed over in a panic, catching her.

Emma held her forehead, tears streaming down her pale face as she sobbed softly. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... It’s all my fault. I shouldn't have come. I'm just a useless widow... I'll leave right now, even if I have to crawl back to the hospital. Please don't blame Ryan, and please don't let Claire hate me..."

The guests in the front rows began to murmur, their judgmental gazes shifting from Emma to me.

"She's just a grieving widow, and the child is indeed sick."

"Claire is being a bit too harsh. Emma came all this way to apologize while her kid is in the ER."

"A wedding can be rescheduled, but a child’s life is at stake. Where is her compassion?"

I stood in the center of the aisle, watching Emma's subtle, victorious glance from behind her tears.

I didn't argue with the whispers.

I looked at Ryan’s mother, who was busy rubbing Emma’s shoulders and comforting her, completely ignoring me—the actual bride who had been abandoned at the altar.

No one in Ryan's family realized that responsibility required prioritization. And in their lives, I would always be the one expected to sacrifice.

"Claire."

"I just urged Ryan to come back."

"He said as soon as Lucas finishes his tests, he’ll be right back."

As she spoke, she pulled her phone out of her bag.

"Look."

On the screen was a message Ryan had sent a few minutes ago.

【Lucas's fever is down a bit. I’ll be back soon.】

Emma let out a soft sigh.

"I actually kept telling him that today is your wedding and he should ignore us."

"But he just couldn't leave us be."

"Ryan is just that kind of person."

Her words sounded like she was speaking up for me.

But I heard the underlying meaning.

—I didn't steal Ryan away. Ryan chose us of his own accord.

She didn't say it out loud.

Yet, it was more powerful than saying it directly.

I finally took the phone from her hand and glanced at the chat history.

There was only this last message.

Everything before it had been deleted.

I handed the phone back to her.

"Emma."

"How long has Ryan been accompanying you two?"

She stunned.

"What do you mean?"

"The Father’s Day school events."

"The preschool open houses."

"Last Christmas."

"And every single time Lucas gets sick."

"All these years, whenever you called, he went."

I looked at her, pronouncing every word clearly: "Do you really think all of this is normal?"

Emma didn't answer immediately.

She lowered her head, her voice laced with a hint of grievance.

"Claire, I never asked Ryan to do any of this."

"Every single time, I told him he didn't need to come."

"He insisted on coming."

"I couldn't stop him."

I smiled.

For the first time, I found those words amusing.

If someone truly didn't want to accept another’s help, there were plenty of ways to decline.

Hire a different nanny.

Ask a neighbor.

Hire a nurse.

Or even switch hospitals.

But Emma had never done any of that.

She only kept telling Ryan, "Don't come."

And then waited for Ryan to rush over himself.

Over these ten years, she had never actively asked for anything.

Yet, she had gotten everything.

I finally knew why I had been losing all this time.

Because I was up against someone who never openly competed with me.

She simply let Ryan walk toward her on his own.

Just then, my phone rang.

It was Ryan.

I answered.

"Claire."

His voice sounded exhausted.

"How are things at the wedding?"

I didn't answer.

He continued, "The doctor says Lucas needs to stay for observation."

"We might not make it by 3:00 PM."

"Let's move it to tomorrow, okay?"

I looked at the guests who had not yet left the church.

They were dressed in formal attire, having cleared their entire day for our wedding.

The venue, the flowers, the band, the photography team...

Every arrangement was expected to bend to his "let's move it to tomorrow."

I suddenly felt that in Ryan’s heart, this wedding was just like a meeting that could be postponed indefinitely.

He believed that as long as he apologized, I would keep waiting.

I asked him softly, "Ryan, where are you right now?"

"The hospital."

"You’ve been at the hospital the whole time?"

A pause came from the other end of the line.

"Yeah."

I didn't expose him.

Because just a moment ago, I had seen the location notification on Emma’s phone.

Ryan had already taken Lucas to the kids' play area.

After the child's fever went down, he had cried and wanted to play.

Ryan had gone with him.

Of course, the hospital had a play area.

But that place did not belong to a groom who supposedly had to rush back to his wedding.

I closed my eyes gently.

Over the past ten years, I had given Ryan so many chances.

Every time, I told myself it would be the last.

It turned out that people really could deceive themselves.

I slowly slid the wedding band off my left ring finger.

The cold metal band lay in my palm, light, almost weightless.

I looked toward the church doors and said softly:

"Ryan."

"We don't need to move the wedding to tomorrow."

A relaxed chuckle came from his end of the line.

"Great, I knew you would—"

I cut him off.

I didn't wait for him to finish. I hung up the phone.

No explanation.

And I didn't tell him why I said that.

Because some things aren't meant to be ended over a phone call.

I reached out and gently closed the booklet of wedding vows.

I didn't take off my ring.

I didn't cry.

I just suddenly felt that there were some answers I had to hear with my own ears.

If Ryan truly believed today was just an accident.

If he truly believed that I would forgive him just like I had for the past ten years.

Then, this relationship deserved a real ending.

I grabbed my car keys and walked toward the parking lot.

I was going to find Ryan.

Ten years of love at least deserved a face-to-face goodbye.