Chapter 1
"Glad we cleared up the misunderstanding. Next time, just talk things out," the officer said.
His words stung, like a needle in my ear.
'Misunderstanding?' I thought.
I stared at my disheveled reflection in the glass door, my clothes covered in dust from the café floor, a bright red scratch on the back of my hand from when she'd shoved me away.
I'd been locked up here for three hours, grilled like a criminal, all because Sophie had cried and yelled at me, "Alex, why did you have to push him?"
But the security footage was crystal clear. Ryan, her so-called "white moonlight," had slipped and fallen all by himself.
She didn't believe me.
Between our seven years together and Ryan's pathetic little act, she chose him without a second thought.
Right now, Sophie was standing at the bottom of the steps, her eyes red as she looked up at me. She tried her usual trick, reaching out to grab my sleeve.
"Alex, don't look so serious. You're scaring me," she said.
I stepped aside, dodging her hand.
With her stunned gaze on me, I told her, word by word, "Sophie, the moment you called the cops, it was over between us. All the love I gave you for seven years? Might as well have thrown it to the dogs."
*****
Sophie said, "Alex, do you have to be so mean?"
Sophie's hand hung in the air, fingers still reaching for my sleeve.
Her eyes were red, as if she'd been deeply hurt.
But the scratch on the back of my hand still stung, a reminder of everything.
Ryan stood half a step behind her, a jacket slung over his left shoulder. Even though the security footage showed he'd only twisted his foot, he was acting like he was half-paralyzed.
He said softly, "Sophie, let it go. Don't push him. He's been cooped up in there for hours. Of course he's pissed."
I gave him a cold stare.
"You really love to run your mouth. Next time, just keep it shut," I said.
Ryan's face froze, then he quickly dropped his eyes.
"Alex, I know you don't like me, but I never wanted to hurt you," he said.
Sophie quickly turned to look at him.
"Enough, just get in the car," she said.
Ryan didn't move, just pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders.
The Buddhist prayer beads on his wrist brushed against the metal zipper, making a soft click.
He never goes anywhere without those beads.
Every time he spoke, he'd spin them, like he was giving his shady plans a holy blessing.
Sophie looked at me again, her voice softening.
"Alex, can we just go home?" she said.
I asked, "Which home do you mean?"
She froze.
"Our home," she said.
"The one you had Ryan help pick out curtains for last week?" I shot back.
Her face went pale.
"I just thought he had good taste," she mumbled, almost defensively.
"And when you called the cops, did you think he was a good person too?" I shot back.
"Alex" Sophie bit her lip, her voice shaky as tears welled up in her eyes.
'Why does he have to keep stabbing me with every word?' Sophie thought, her tears spilling over.
"I already know I messed up. Why do you have to keep twisting the knife?" she sobbed.
I looked at her, and for a second, I almost wanted to laugh.
Back then, whenever she cried, I'd tiptoe around her feelings, even softening my voice so I wouldn't hurt her.
But now, as she cried, all I could think about was how the bright lights outside the police station stripped away every bit of pretense—no one could fake it anymore.
Ryan suddenly cleared his throat.
"Alex, I admit I didn't make things clear today. I was so out of it from the pain, and Sophie was just worried about me. You two have been together for seven years—it's not worth falling out over me," he said, trying to sound sincere.
I shot back, "If you know you shouldn't be here, then why are you still hanging around? Seriously, have you got no shame?"
He had nothing to say to that.
Sophie frowned.
"Alex, stop picking on him. He's sick," she said.
"So because he's sick, you called the cops on me?" I shot back.
"I wasn't trying to get you arrested," she said.
"Then what was it?" I pressed.
She hesitated, her lips moving but no words coming out.
"I just wanted the police to get to the bottom of it," she finally said.
"And before they figured it out, what did you call me?" I pressed.
She didn't say a word.
I spoke for her, "You told me to stop acting. In your heart, I'm just a criminal."
For a moment, Sophie stopped crying.
Ryan reached out to steady her arm.
"Sophie, don't cry. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have come back," he said.
His words were like a puppet string—just a little tug, and she wilted right away.
I used to be terrified she'd let herself be led around like that.
Afraid she'd be too soft, afraid she'd get hurt, afraid she'd get caught between us.
But then I realized, she was never the one caught in the middle.
It was always me.
Sophie pulled her arm back, like she suddenly remembered I was watching her.
"Alex, I'll keep my distance from him," she said.
I asked, "When are you going to start?"
She froze.
"From now on," she said.
"So it's only now, when you need me to forgive you?" I shot back.
The color drained from Sophie's face.
Ryan said under his breath, "Do you really get anything out of pushing her like this?"
I shot him a look.
"Of course it is," I said.
He froze.
"Honestly, it's way more fun than watching you fake it," I shot back.
Sophie's voice trembled.
"Alex, do you really have to be like this tonight?" she asked.
I nodded.
"Yeah. If you don't want to hear it, then don't. Just get out of my sight," I said.
She looked at me, like it was the first time she realized I wasn't the guy who'd always bail her out.
The taxi pulled up to the curb, and I opened the door.
Sophie hurried after me.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Back to my parents' place," I said.
"I'll go with you and help explain," she said.
I shot her a look.
"What are you even planning to explain? Why you called the cops on me, or how Ryan's little slip somehow turned into me getting blamed for everything?" I said.
Her tears started falling again.
"I just freaked out," she said.
"Sophie," I said.
I gripped the car door, the cold wind making the scratch on the back of my hand sting.
"When you freaked out, you believed him without even thinking, and just threw me aside," I said.
Just as I was about to close the door, she suddenly called out to me.
"Alex, don't be like this," she pleaded.
I looked at her, but I didn't get out to hold her like I always did before.
"Sophie, you're the one who threw me away first," I said.
"What did you just say? The wedding's off?" my mom asked, her voice suddenly soft.
She paused, the cotton pad hovering over the scratch on my hand, her movements suddenly gentle.
My dad sat at the dining table, cigarette unlit, holding the lighter tight in his palm.
I took off my jacket, dust falling from the hem onto the floor.
"Stop," I said.
My mom's eyes grew teary.
"You're not just saying this because you're mad, are you?" she asked.
"No," I said.
My dad looked at me for a long time.
"Have you really thought this through?" he asked.
"I spent three hours in the police station thinking about it. That was more than enough," I said.
The living room fell silent.
The wedding venue confirmation was still sitting on the coffee table.
It listed the champagne-colored decor Sophie loved, the welcome flowers she'd picked out after three tries, and the number of tables for relatives my mom had double-checked over and over.
Earlier that afternoon, while we were talking about the wedding, Sophie brought Ryan over.
"Ryan used to work on brand events. He knows how these things go," she said.
My mom gave him a polite smile.
My dad poured Ryan a cup of coffee.
As soon as Ryan sat down, he said, "Mr. and Mrs. Carter, Sophie gets really nervous on her wedding day. It'd be best if someone she knows can keep an eye on her."
"The wedding planner's got it covered," I said.
Ryan spun his prayer beads and flashed a gentle smile.
"The planner doesn't really get her. When she's nervous, she starts picking at her nails and her stomach gets upset," he said.
Sophie lowered her head, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"You actually remember that?" she said.
At that moment, my mom accidentally flipped to the wrong page in the menu.
I saw it.
Sophie didn't notice.
Later, when we started talking about the head table, Ryan grabbed a pen and marked a tiny star right next to the bridesmaids' seats.
"I'll just sit here. That way, I can keep an eye on her," he said.
I shot back, "And what exactly gives you the right to look after her?"
Sophie immediately frowned.
"Alex, don't be so harsh. Ryan's just here to help," she said.
Ryan said softly, "It's fine, I can sit anywhere. I don't want to make things awkward for you guys."
Then he flashed my mom a smile.
"Mrs. Carter, I really didn't come here to stir up trouble," he said.
My mom forced a smile.
That smile was even uglier than crying.
Now, the wedding confirmation slip lay on the coffee table, its corners crumpled from my mom's grip.
"I'll take care of the hotel tomorrow," I said.
My mom shook her head.
"I'll go," she said.
"Mom," I said.
"You've already had enough embarrassment today. Let me and your dad handle the rest for you," she said.
My throat tightened.
My dad finally lit his cigarette, but stubbed it out almost immediately.
"Alex, we used to really dote on Sophie too. But no matter how much we cared about her, what she did today—we just can't let it slide," he said.
I looked down at the back of my hand.
Next to the red scratch, there was a small scrape.
That was from when Sophie shoved me away at the back door of the café.
Back then, all I wanted was to help her up and tell her not to let Ryan's fake tears get to her.
But she yanked herself out of my grasp, like she couldn't stand the thought of me touching her.
"Don't touch me," she snapped.
Those words hit me harder than any of the officer's questions—like a slap right across the face.