Chapter 1
How easy is it to make someone fall from heaven straight into hell?
Perhaps it takes nothing more than a single phone call—one that makes the groom drop everything, abandon the wedding, and leave behind a hall full of stunned guests.
...
Nina Jones never imagined that one day she would become that tragic bride in everyone else's cautionary tale.
People used to say she and Lance Foster were a match made in heaven—childhood sweethearts, perfect in looks and talent, their love the kind that others could only envy. After years together, their union was supposed to be the happy ending of a lifetime.
But on the day meant to seal their love, the story turned into a cruel joke.
Guests stared at Nina's pale face, unsure how to comfort her. What should have been a beautiful wedding then became a public humiliation.
The most heartbroken person should have been Nina, yet she didn't even have time to grieve. She quickly changed into her reception dress, forced a smile, and began tending to the chaotic crowd of guests.
By the time she had seen the last guest out, the night was thick and still. Worn out, she made her way back to the house that was supposed to be their new beginning.
She sank down onto the floor and sat there motionless, her eyes fixed on the large, framed wedding photo hanging on the wall—the one where they were both smiling, bright and hopeful. Now, the image blurred at the edges, stinging with tears she refused to let fall.
At eighteen, Lance had told her his biggest dream was to marry her.
At twenty-eight, he ran from their wedding.
She couldn't understand why he would do such a thing on the day that was supposed to be theirs.
The hurt, confusion, and fear surged like a tide, threatening to drown her.
Then, she heard the sound of the door opening. And Lance walked in, weariness etched into his handsome face. He was still in the same suit from earlier that day, his expression heavy with sorrow.
Before Nina could speak, he crouched down in front of her, pressed his face into her palms, and spoke in a hoarse voice.
"Nina… Summer is dying."
His shoulders trembled, like he was fighting to hold back an unbearable agony.
"She has brain cancer. The doctors say she has less than six months."
Summer Shaw!
Nina repeated the name silently.
Since childhood, Lance had never shown interest in any woman but her. No matter how many girls confessed to him, his eyes had always held only Nina.
Until Summer appeared.
Summer Shaw—the most persistent woman Lance had ever known.
She would cross half the city just to bring him his favorite breakfast.
She wrote him love letters every day, pouring out her heart without shame.
She even drank on his behalf at business dinners, ending up in the hospital with stomach bleeding.
She had done countless things that could move heaven and earth—yet Lance remained unmoved. His heart belonged to Nina.
Then three years ago, Nina had to leave him.
Her depression had worsened, and her doctor warned she was on the edge of suicidal collapse. She hid her condition from Lance and left the country for treatment.
He had held her tightly, begging her not to go, saying he would lose his mind without her. But she couldn't stay—not when she was so broken. She wanted to heal, to build a future where she wouldn't drag him into her darkness.
He never knew how hard those years abroad had been for her—how she lived each day fighting the urge to end it all. The bathtub had seen too much blood, her arms too many scars.
But somehow, she survived. Three long years later, she finally stabilized, finally had the courage to come home—to him.
She booked her ticket early but told no one, wanting to surprise him.
After crossing the entire Pacific, after twenty-some hours in the air, she didn't even stop to drop off her luggage. She went straight to where he was.
And there she saw it—Summer running toward Lance through a crowd, face flushed, throwing her arms around him...