Chapter 3

That night, I was out of it with a raging fever. In my dreams, it wasn't my mom, who had passed away, showing up.

It was that woman.

Charlotte.

It was before our fifth attempt to get our marriage license. She had asked me to meet her at that fancy café. She dressed in an designer gown, her words polite but distant.

"Ryan's fear of commitment is an act," Charlotte said calmly, stirring her coffee. "Our families have been close for generations. His parents know about you, but they never thought he'd actually marry you.

"After all, having some fun is one thing, but when it comes to marriage, they want someone from the right background."

I tightened my grip on my coffee cup.

"Of course, I don't mind you being around," Charlotte said, looking up at me with a generous smile. "Just don't talk to him about getting married anymore. It really makes things awkward for him.

"If you make a scene, it's not going to do you any good, right?"

Her steady, almost smug tone hinted that if things really blew up, I'd be the one left behind.

But I didn't buy it at the time. I wanted to argue, to tell her how much Ryan cared about me.

He remembered every little thing I liked, took care of my mom himself, and encouraged me to keep chasing my doctorate.

When I got an invitation from a professor overseas, he even pleaded with me not to leave, his eyes red from holding back tears.

Someone like him, after ten years together, how could it have all been a game?

But the moment Charlotte called Ryan, every bit of doubt I had was shattered.

The ringtone was that violin piece Ryan had gotten obsessed with. Then his voice came through, gentler than I had ever heard, and he called her something I had never heard before. "Baby, what's wrong?"

My hand resting on the table began to tremble.

"Are you free this afternoon? I want to go see a musical with you," Charlotte said into the phone, but she was smiling right at me.

Ryan only hesitated for a second before answering, "I'm free."

I closed my eyes.

That afternoon was supposed to be our fifth attempt to get our marriage license.

I couldn't remember how I managed to walk out of that café.

All I remembered was that I couldn't let it go. I went to the city hall anyway, waiting from noon until dusk, until the staff started closing up for the day.

My hands were shaking as I dialed his number.

Ryan picked up.

"Where are you?" I asked.

But no one answered, just the suggestive splash of water, and a quick, low groan.

I hung up abruptly and bolted out of the city hall, flustered and shaken.

That night, when he finally came home, I lost it. I smashed everything I could get my hands on.

In the end, I sat there in the middle of the mess, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe.

Ryan pulled me into his arms, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely flustered.

"I'm sorry I stood you up," he said. "But I was at the hospital getting treatment."

He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a forearm dotted with needle marks.

But when my eyes drifted upward, I caught the unmistakable kiss mark at the base of his neck.

I slapped Ryan hard across the face.

He didn't seem to notice. "If hitting me makes you feel better, go ahead!"

I wanted to call it quits.

But then, my mom's call came through. "Ryan, thank you so much for getting that professional caregiver today."

Ryan replied, saying it was what a family should do, and told her to take care of herself.

Mom's hearty laughter echoed through the phone, and she told us to look after each other, promising she'd hang in there until we got married.

The words "let's break up" got caught in my throat.

After hanging up, Ryan went ahead and scheduled our sixth attempt to get our marriage license.

But on that sixth try, he abandoned me on the side of the road, took my bag with him, and left. I stumbled home in a daze and ended up having a miscarriage.

Even though my stomach was killing me, I managed to get out of bed, borrowed a phone, and kept calling him over and over.

No one picked up.

I leaned against the wall as I made my way out. When I passed by a hospital room, I stopped.

The door was half open, and inside was Ryan, who had been ignoring all my calls.

He was carefully wrapping his arms around Charlotte's stomach, resting his face against it. "Why are you telling me something this huge until today?"

Charlotte pushed his head away, her voice playful and a little flirty. "I only found out today myself. It's barely been a month; how could you expect to hear anything yet?"

"This is my first child," Ryan said, still listening, his face full of smiles. "I don't have any experience."

Charlotte glanced down at him and suddenly asked, "So, when are we going to get our marriage license?"

Ryan's back stiffened for a moment, barely noticeable.

"How about we get engaged first," he replied. "My parents are already on their way."

He looked up and gently kissed her forehead.

I was about to walk in.

But suddenly, a bunch of people shoved me out of the way.

It was a group of bodyguards in black, escorting two pairs of parents dressed in fancy clothes.

"Such great news. Such great news!" one of the women, who looked a lot like Ryan, said with a big smile as she walked in. "Everyone, Charlotte has brought us the most incredible news."

They went inside, the whole family celebrating together, all smiles.

I stood outside the door, frozen, unable to move.

It had been ten years.

Ryan had never once brought me to his house.

He always said his mom was difficult, worried I'd get hurt, and promised he'd bring me home after we got married.

I had no idea how I managed to get back to my hospital room, or how I got home.

All I remembered was packing up, folding all my clothes, and stuffing them into a suitcase. As I was dragging it out, I ran right into Ryan.

He didn't even notice my suitcase. He grabbed my wrist, looking frantic. "It's bad! Your Mom's in critical condition, she called."

Ryan tossed my suitcase aside and pulled me toward the parking lot.

He didn't sleep a single minute that night, bringing in the top specialists from all over the state. And once again, he brought my mom back from the edge.

When mom finally woke up, the first thing she did was look at both of us with a weak smile and say, "You two need to be good to each other."

Ryan held her hand, swearing with all his heart. "We will. Next time you see us, we'll be married."

He pulled out his phone and showed her the record of our seventh appointment.

I sat by the bed, not saying a word.

Ryan didn't notice anything off about my silence. He thought I was exhausted.

Three days later, he came to pick me up.

My mom's condition had stabilized a bit, and she kept pushing us to get our marriage license.

I didn't say a single word the whole way there.

And then we arrived at the city hall, for the seventh time, to get our marriage license.

Ryan went to the bathroom.

He disappeared.

And my mom died.

It all happened so fast, like I was stuck in a dream.

Ten years lost in a dream, and now, finally, I was waking up.