Chapter 1

I was probably a strong contender for the most *dutiful* fiancée of the year.

I’d chased Julian Reed for eight years, thinking I was starring in some inspirational drama, finally melting that icy man’s heart.

The proposal, the engagement – it was all as grand as a fairy tale.

Until the eve of our wedding, as I sat surrounded by mountains of invitations, dreaming of our future.

Then he came to tell me, for the sake of his first love:

"I want to have a child with her, through surrogacy. It won't affect our wedding."

Oh.

So the iceberg wasn't incapable of melting;

it was just that the eternal spring in his heart was never meant for me.

And my eight years of devotion?

Just a convenient, understanding backup option when he wasn't busy fulfilling his 'responsibilities'.

[Skylar, I’m going to have a child with Valerie.]

Julian’s voice was as cool and detached as ever, devoid of any warmth.

I thought I'd misheard him.

I paused, my hands still on the wedding invitations I was sorting, and looked up at the man I’d loved for eight long years.

"What did you say?"

Julian sat casually on the sofa opposite me, as if we were discussing what to have for dinner.

"Professor Evans is critically ill. His only wish is to see Valerie have her own child. I promised him I’d look after Valerie for life."

He paused, then added,

"It's just fulfilling a responsibility. We'll use my sperm and her eggs, find a surrogate. There won't be any actual relationship between us, and the wedding will proceed as planned."

Absurd!

My ears rang with the sheer audacity.

A month before our wedding, my fiancé wanted to have a baby with another woman.

And I? I was supposed to be *understanding*, *magnanimous*.

"Julian, have you lost your mind?"

My voice trembled uncontrollably.

"I'm perfectly lucid."

Julian frowned, seemingly displeased by my strong reaction.

"Skylar, I always thought you were sensible. This is just to grant a dying old man's wish."

Sensible.

Right.

From university onwards, I'd followed him around like a tireless ray of sunshine.

He was always that iceberg, distant and aloof.

Everyone said I was terrifyingly passionate, but only I knew that if I didn't initiate, there wouldn't be a single spark between us.

Eight years. I’d seen his back more often than his face.

I thought I'd finally warmed this stone.

He’d proposed, given me a grand engagement party, making me believe I was the happiest woman in the world.

Turns out, it was all just *my* belief.

"So, in your mind, my feelings, our marriage—they're less important than your so-called 'responsibility'?"

My eyes welled up, my voice thick with tears. Julian’s phone screen lit up.

He glanced at it, his expression immediately turning impatient, and stood up from the sofa.

"I have an emergency. You should just calm down for a bit."

He grabbed his jacket, not even sparing me another look, and headed straight for the door.

Always like this.

When I needed him most, he always had something more important, always left me alone.

I watched his resolute back, my heart sinking deeper into an icy abyss.

The door clicked shut, cutting off all sound.

I was left alone in the living room, with a table full of invitations.

Just then, my phone buzzed.

It was a SnapChat message from Valerie Evans.

A photo. The background was the Reproductive Medicine Center at the hospital.

Julian was tilting his head, listening intently to a doctor in a white coat.

And Valerie sat right beside him, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips.

Below the photo, a caption:

[Julian said to stop making a fuss, important matters come first.]

Important matters.

So, his "emergency" was accompanying another woman to a fertility consultation.

A suffocating pain instantly seized me. I clutched my chest, gasping for air.

But it felt like the air in my lungs was getting thinner and thinner.

I rushed into the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror.

Pale face, swollen red eyes, haggard and unrecognizable for love.

These eight years, like a long, unrealistic dream.

Now, the dream was over.

I looked at my pathetic reflection and suddenly laughed.

Tears still clung to my eyelashes, but the smile held a chilling, bone-deep coldness.

I went back to the living room, picked up my phone, opened my Ins account, and posted a single line:

[Wedding date unchanged, groom TBD. Inquiries welcome via DM.]

The comments section exploded instantly.

[??? Skylar, did you get hacked?!]

[OMG, going all out? Does Dr. Reed know?]

[Count me in! Groom Candidate #1 reporting for duty!]

Seeing my friends' joking replies, I pulled at the corners of my mouth, but couldn't manage a smile.

My phone rang abruptly. It was a number I’d almost forgotten.

Caller ID: My Arch-Nemesis.

I paused, then remembered who it was.

Asher Vance. We grew up together, rivaling each other since childhood.

Not long ago, when I announced my engagement, everyone sent congratulations. Only he commented something baffling:

[Are you sure you want to marry him?]

At the time, I just thought he was crazy, sent a "buzz off," and ignored him.

The phone kept ringing insistently.

I swiped to answer, my voice still a little hoarse:

"What do you want?"

A two-second silence on the other end, then Asher's leisurely, yet somewhat serious voice came through.

"Me. The groom's spot. Consider me?"

My grip tightened on the phone, my mind blank for a moment.

But quickly, I calmed down.

The Vance and Dawson families were old acquaintances, similar in status, and knew each other inside and out.

Asher might have a smart mouth, but his character and family background were impeccable.

Instead of marrying a man whose heart belonged to someone else, why not choose someone who could at least make me feel at ease?

If it’s already broken, why not smash it completely?

"Alright."

I heard myself say, calmly.

Asher on the other end seemed stunned too, taking a few seconds to confirm:

"You… you're serious?"

"What else?" I retorted.

"Do you have any conditions?"

"Conditions?"

Asher chuckled softly.

"First, change my contact name from 'My Arch-Nemesis' to 'My Dearest'."

I didn’t say anything.

"And,"

His voice suddenly turned serious.

"I'm not messing around with you. I want a real marital relationship. Are you sure you've thought this through?"

A real marital relationship.

I thought sarcastically, *I was with Julian for eight years, and we never became a real family.*

"I've thought it through."

I answered crisply.

"Give me half a month. I need to sort some things out."

"Deal."

After hanging up, I immediately opened Asher's contact and changed the name to [My Dearest].

Looking at those two words, a thrill of vindictive pleasure rose from deep inside, bringing a flicker of warmth to my icy body.

Julian, you're having a baby with another woman behind my back.

Fine, I'll switch grooms behind yours.

2.

Julian didn't come back for the next few days.

I didn't call him to ask either.

I just quietly, one by one, contacted the friends to whom I’d sent invitations, asking them to send them back or simply destroy them.

My best friend, Chloe, was shocked on the phone:

"What's wrong, Skylar? Did you two fight? Don't be impulsive!"

My voice betrayed no emotion:

"No fight. Just a change of groom."

There was a long silence on the other end, then Chloe’s dry laugh:

"Alright, alright, I know you two are just playing games again. Dr. Reed is such an ice cube, only you, his little ray of sunshine, can melt him. No one else could."

No one believed me.

Everyone thought my love for Julian was a given, indestructible.

I hung up, a bitter taste in my mouth.

It turns out, in this relationship, I was the only constant.

I decided to prove it with action.

When Julian finally returned, it was three days later.

He looked exhausted, faint dark circles under his eyes; he clearly hadn't rested well.

He took off his jacket and tossed it onto the sofa.

Seeing me sitting on the living room carpet, staring blankly, his first words mirrored my actions over the past few days.

"Skylar, retrieve all the invitations."

He paused, his voice hoarse:

"Professor Evans is critically ill; I need to be by his side during this time to honor his final days. Let's postpone our wedding."

After saying it, he seemed ready for a fierce argument.

However, the anticipated crying and questioning didn't happen.

I merely looked up, calmly met his gaze, and softly said:

"Understood. My condolences."

This overly "sensible" attitude inexplicably startled Julian.

He felt something was off, but days of exhaustion left him no time for deep thought.

"You should come with me to the hospital this afternoon to see Professor Evans."

He offered the invitation.

I nodded:

"Okay."

Out of politeness, I should go.

In the hospital corridor outside the ward, the smell of disinfectant was thick and suffocating.

The moment Valerie Evans saw Julian, she latched onto him like he was her pillar of strength.

Her tears gushed, and her body went limp, collapsing into his arms.

Julian, almost instinctively, lunged forward, catching her steadily in his embrace.

He bent his head, comforting the sobbing woman, and without looking up, said to me behind him:

"You go in first. Valerie isn't doing well; I'll stay with her for a bit."

Their posture was so intimate, as if they were the couple.

I watched the scene, my heart strangely calm.

I didn't even rush forward and tear her away from him, like I used to.

I simply glanced at them, then turned, and quietly pushed open the door to a family waiting room.

I was completely different from the crying, dramatic person I used to be.

3.

Julian felt a flicker of surprise at my composure, but Valerie's trembling in his arms quickly pulled his attention back.

I visited Professor Evans alone in his hospital bed and then offered my condolences to Mrs. Evans.

Mrs. Evans held my hand, her eyes red, conveying both gratitude and apology.

"Skylar, you've really been wronged. The wedding trouble is all our fault."

I shook my head, indicating understanding.

Mrs. Evans sighed and began to explain for Julian:

"Julian, you see how he's so cold and distant on the outside, but he truly cares for you. He used to mention you casually to us, saying what silly things you'd done, how you smiled like a silly ray of sunshine. He loved you without even realizing it; he just wasn't good at expressing himself."

Loved without realizing it?

Hearing those words, I found them incredibly ironic.

If he truly loved me, why did I always feel ignored?

Why did his turning back always outweigh his staying embrace?

Why would he, for another woman, ask me to postpone our wedding, and even contemplate having a child with someone else?

I was certain that the moment Julian agreed to surrogacy, everything had already come to an end.

These belated declarations of love felt ridiculously cheap.

Soon after, Professor Evans passed away.

At the memorial service, Julian, as his most accomplished protégé, stayed by Valerie’s side throughout, acting almost like a de facto family member.

When the ceremony concluded, it was pouring rain outside.

Julian drove up and stopped in front of me.

The car window lowered. Valerie sat in the passenger seat, and a sorrowful Mrs. Evans was in the back.

"Get in."

He said it simply.

I was about to open the back door when Valerie in the passenger seat suddenly burst into tears, sobbing as she pleaded with Julian:

"Julian, I just want you to take Mom and me to the cemetery to be with Dad. Can't *she* just call a ride herself?"

Her words were sharp and malicious.

Even Mrs. Evans in the back frowned, finding her daughter's behavior disrespectful.

Julian, however, fell silent.

He glanced at Valerie's tear-reddened eyes, then at me, standing silently outside the window.

Ultimately, he chose to appease Valerie.

He said to me:

"I'll come back for you later."

With that, he stepped on the gas, and the black sedan sped away into the rain.

I was left standing alone, the icy rain pelting my face.

I had anticipated this outcome, and there wasn't even a hint of sadness on my face.

I waited under the eaves of the funeral home for a full three hours.

My phone screen remained dark.

I knew he wasn't coming.

The funeral home was in a remote location, and I couldn't find a ride. I had no choice but to walk along the highway in the torrential rain.

The cold rain soaked through my expensive black dress, leaving me drenched and miserable.

It took me nearly two hours of walking to reach the outskirts of the city where I could finally hail a taxi.

By the time I returned to that so-called home, it was late into the night.

4.

That night, I came down with a high fever.

Julian didn't return all night.

I was delirious with fever, my bones felt like they'd been disassembled and reassembled; I didn't even have the strength to grab my phone and dial 91