Chapter 1
My fiancée's, Lily Hart, heart belonged to someone else.
That was fine.
My heart didn't belong to her either.
It belonged to Michael Hart, her brother.
No one knew I'd been secretly crushing on him for twenty years.
On the day of the wedding, she ran away.
Michael was going to step in as the bride?
Alright then.
If he's got the guts to marry me, I'll marry him.
*****
The marriage between Lily and me was set in stone before our parents were even born.
It was originally meant to be an arranged match for our parents' generation, but since neither family had a daughter, the whole thing got shelved.
Back then, because the Hart Family took forever to have a daughter, my dad ended up staying single well into his thirties.
So the moment Lily was born, my dad rushed the engagement token over that very night.
And for good measure, he sent me along with it.
There was only one reason for that.
My parents thought I was sick in the head.
At seven, I didn't like to smile or talk, sat there like a block of wood.
They figured there had to be something wrong with my brain.
But the doctor said I was fine.
But they didn't buy it.
The Lane Family had been doing honest business for years, we never cheated anyone.
My dad slammed his hand on the table. "The Lane Family doesn't force deals on anyone. If the Hart Family thinks I'm not what they bargained for and wants to break off the engagement, that's their call."
When he shoved me into the car, he said, "If they don't want you, come back quietly."
I nodded.
The Hart Family lived in Southvale, over a thousand kilometers away from Northbridge.
We arrived at the Hart Family's house.
Michael's father, Arthur Hart, took me into the main hall.
Michael's mother, Charlotte Hart, looked me over, then smiled and gestured toward the baby crib.
"Andrew Lane, come take a look. This is Lily, your future wife," Charlotte said.
I walked over and looked down.
Lily looked like a porcelain doll.
She was adorable.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from upstairs.
Someone was barreling down the stairs.
I looked up and saw a boy appear at the top of the stairs.
He was wearing an oversized T-shirt, his hair was a mess, and he was barefoot.
He stood there, looking down at me from the stairs, sunlight streaming through the window and bathing him in light.
He was even better-looking.
"So you're the Ice who's engaged to my sister?" he called out.
Before I could react, he'd already dashed down the stairs, soccer ball in hand, circling me like a curious puppy.
"I heard you never smile. Is that true?" he asked.
Charlotte cleared her throat.
Arthur scowled, grabbed him by the collar, and snapped, "You little brat. Who told you to wear my limited-edition jersey? Didn't I punish you to write out classic poems? Are you slacking off again?"
Charlotte gave an awkward laugh. "This is my son. He never watches his mouth, so don't take it to heart."
I shook my head. "It's fine. My parents call me a block of wood."
Charlotte paused for a moment, then laughed. "You're a funny kid."
I wasn't joking. That was the truth.
I didn't say anything else.
My eyes were glued to the handsome little boy, now stripped down to his shirt, darting around the couch while Arthur chased him, still pulling faces at me every chance he got.
Arthur ran around the couch a couple of times, then was out of breath.
Charlotte, like she'd done it a thousand times, handed him a feather duster.
Arthur snatched it up, waving it in the air. "Michael, stand still."
That was when I learned his name. Michael. Lily's brother.
*****
The day after I moved into the Hart Family's house, I realized Michael was a walking disaster.
It was barely dawn.
Michael, who lived next door, knocked on my door.
"Ice, you up? Can I come in?" he called out.
I'd woken up and hadn't even had time to answer.
He added, "If you don't say anything, I'll take it as a yes."
Before I could even react, the door burst open.
Michael sneaked in, holding a soccer ball, and when he saw me sit up, he flashed a big grin. "Come on, let's play."
The Hart Family's place was like a giant garden.
There were tons of rock formations, and ponds and streams everywhere you looked.
After we got tired from playing soccer, Michael said he'd take me somewhere fun.
Turns out, he meant climbing a ten-foot-tall ornamental garden rock.
The thing looked like a pillar, about three feet wide, straight up and down.
Climbing up was doable, but getting down? That was the tricky part.
"Don't climb it, you'll get stuck up there," I warned.
But before I could even finish, Michael scrambled up the rock like a little monkey.
"Relax, I've been climbing trees since I was three. This is nothing," he said.
But Michael's confidence didn't last long.
"Mom." Michael yelled.
Michael's voice was deafening.