Chapter 1

I brought my parents to check out our newly renovated wedding apartment.

When I entered the code, the lock beeped and said it was wrong.

Then I heard Edward's sister, Emily Grant, laughing inside.

The door opened, and there was Claire, Edward's childhood friend, in her pajamas, wearing the slippers I'd spent ages picking out for our wedding apartment.

In the living room, Mrs. Grant was happily peeling an orange for her, while Edward was helping her set up her computer.

When they heard the noise, the laughter inside stopped abruptly.

I pulled up the lock's access log. Every single one of the eight fingerprints saved belonged to Claire.

Edward walked over, frowning, and stood protectively in front of her.

"Claire just returned to the country and didn't have a place to stay. My mom and Emily are fond of her, so we let her use the master bedroom," Edward said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"The bed for the guest room hasn't arrived yet. Just take your parents to a hotel for a few days and try to be understanding," he added, barely glancing at me.

My parents stood awkwardly in the hallway, still holding the gifts they'd brought for his family.

I glanced down at the red wedding card in my hand, then turned and tossed it into the trash.

Then I pulled out my phone, canceled the wedding banquet scheduled for next week, and led my parents out of the building.

*****

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Edward's call came through.

"Sophie, why did you cancel the wedding banquet? The hotel just sent me a confirmation text. Call them right now and get it back on," he demanded.

My dad held the elevator door open for me, his hand still tense, the veins standing out. My mom hugged the bag of bedding tight, making sure the bright red pillowcases inside stayed hidden.

"Canceling means it's off," I said, keeping my voice steady.

Edward paused for a couple of seconds, his tone turning cold.

"Claire's just crashing here for a few days. Do you really have to make such a scene in front of your parents? Six years together, and you still don't trust me?" he said.

He hung up, like he always did after an argument. He was so confident I'd cave first.

When the elevator reached the first floor, my mom finally asked, "Sophie, that was your master bedroom, right?"

I couldn't answer right away.

I designed that master bedroom myself. Edward's back isn't great, so I moved the head of the bed twelve centimeters to the south, just to make space for his lumbar support device.

By the window, I planned to put a loveseat. He said after we got married, we'd snuggle there and watch movies together.

Now, Claire had left her cashmere shawl on the sofa.

My dad took the bag from my mom and said, "Let's find somewhere to stay first. Let's not talk about this out here."

At the hotel front desk, as they checked our IDs, I realized my parents had brought way more luggage than they'd let on.

They packed their regular medications, spare clothes, and even the orchid my mom had nurtured for years. They were planning to stay in the wedding apartment until the ceremony was over.

I tried to book two rooms, but my dad stopped me, holding my bank card.

"One room is enough. Your mom and I will share. No need to spend extra. You should head back to your own place," he said.

My apartment had been rented out three months ago. Edward said the wedding place went way over budget, and the mortgage was getting tough, so he asked me to use the rent money to help out with the bills.

At the time, I thought, since we were about to get married, there was no point in splitting things up anymore.

The front desk handed me the key cards, and I grabbed all three.

"I'll stay with you guys," I said.

My phone buzzed a few times. Edward sent a photo of the master bedroom. Claire had changed out of her pajamas and was sitting at the vanity I'd picked out, unboxing computer parts.

Then Edward texted: "Claire saw you canceled the wedding banquet. She thinks it's her fault and she's crying. Come back and clear things up with her."

I stared at the photo and noticed a row of holes on the right side of the vanity.

There used to be a round mirror there. I'd had a carpenter make it for me, with our initials carved on the back, modeled after a photo of us from six years ago. Now the round mirror was gone, replaced by the square makeup mirror Claire brought with her.

I texted Edward: "Where's the original mirror?"

He shot back: "Claire didn't like the round one, so I had the handyman take it down and stick it in the storage room. It's just a mirror, no big deal. We'll put it back after the wedding."

Six years ago, we were stuck in a run-down apartment with a leaky roof. Edward cobbled together a crooked little round mirror for me out of some old scrap wood. He told me, "One day, when we have our own place, I'll get you the best mirror there is."

I saved that photo of our wedding apartment and muted his messages. I just didn't want to hear from him anymore.

While my mom was in the shower, the sound of water came through the frosted glass door. My dad sat on the edge of the bed, taking out the little boxes of wedding candy from the suitcase and tucking them back into the very bottom.

My dad asked, "Did Edward not know we were coming?"

I closed the suitcase for him and quietly replied, "He knew."

He didn't ask any more questions. Instead, he handed me the crumpled wedding program. It had his speech on it, the one he'd practiced over and over, with pronunciation notes scribbled next to the tough words.

I folded the program and tucked it back into his coat pocket.

Edward called again, and the first thing he asked was if we could still have the wedding banquet.

"The hotel said our original date hasn't been given away yet. If you confirm now, it's still ours. Claire already promised to stay out of the way on the wedding day, so don't make this harder than it needs to be," he said.

I leaned against the cold hotel wall, my palm pressed against the edge of the key card.

"When my parents were left standing outside, you told them to go stay at a hotel. But the moment Claire sheds a tear, suddenly I'm the one asking for too much, right?" I said.

"That's not what I meant," Edward said, lowering his voice. "Your parents can stay here any time in the future, but right now Claire really has nowhere else to go. Just restore the wedding banquet, and I'll come pick you up later."

"No need to pick me up," I said.

Before I hung up, I heard Mrs. Grant asking Claire what she wanted to eat, and Edward replied offhandedly, "She doesn't eat cilantro, so don't put any in."

He could always remember Claire didn't like cilantro, but he could never remember I was allergic to peanuts.

I closed the hotel booking page, moved the money I'd planned to use to make the wedding apartment nicer for my parents into my own account, and unlinked the shared payment account with Edward.

A few minutes later, he sent me a question mark.

I didn't bother explaining. I just took out the photo of us from my phone case, folded it so only his side was hidden, and tossed it into the hotel trash.