Chapter 1

One month before the wedding, I saw my boyfriend's post online.

"She's a nurse---gentle, kind, beautiful, and generous."

My heart warmed. I was just about to like his post.

Then he added, "But she's seen so many men's private parts. It really bothers me."

"She must know people would mind, right? That's why she doesn't want a wedding fund."

My hand froze mid-air. My enthusiasm for wedding planning cooled instantly.

He was still torn between choosing me or his divorced childhood sweetheart.

I quickly made the decision for him.

The latest post was from Brian. I recognized it immediately.

His username was "Century of Solitude," and his profile picture showed the Alps.

Century of Solitude was the book he still couldn't finish but kept on his desk to look cultured.

The Alps---he'd been talking about conquering them for three years.

His first line read: [I'm getting married. She's a nurse---gentle, kind, beautiful, and generous.]

He was a man of few words. Managing to squeeze out this much praise wasn't easy for him.

My heart warmed. I was about to give it a like.

Before my cursor could click, he posted another line.

[She deals with bodily fluids every day and has seen so many men's private parts. It really bothers me.]

My hand stopped in mid-air.

I remembered how he'd been frowning lately, telling me he actually had a cleanliness obsession.

While I sat there stunned, the replies had already reached a dozen.

[Urology department, right? Nurses are basically just there to serve people, aren't they?]

[Dude, look on the bright side---someone who's seen that much isn't likely to cheat.]

I'd seen comments like these plenty of times before. But this time was different.

My heart clenched inexplicably. I waited for Brian's response.

He quickly posted two more lines.

[I figure she knows people would mind, right? That's why she doesn't want a wedding fund.]

[I'm really conflicted right now, because she's not the only option.]

I slowly lowered my hand, staring at the scrolling comments, unable to speak.

No wonder as the wedding approached, he seemed less and less concerned.

Ordering our outfits, choosing wedding favors---he'd been completely indifferent, telling me to decide everything myself.

After all, he had a much bigger decision weighing on his mind.

What troubled him was that Peyton Smith, his childhood friend, had come back.

Divorced, no kids, and now worth twice as much.

The flame his parents had forced him to extinguish years ago was rekindling.

I'd already sensed the turbulent emotions in his eyes when he looked at Peyton.

...

The wedding was next month. The invitations were half-written.

Should I still marry him?

It felt like a fishbone stuck in my throat. Thinking of Brian made me want to vomit but unable to swallow.

My grandfather, who'd raised me, was gravely ill. He was clinging to life just to see me get married.

If I didn't go through with it, I was afraid it would break his heart.

By the time I returned from a tasteless lunch, the post had been deleted.

Two people stood at the nurses' station. Tall, upright Brian was hard to miss.

He was looking down, comforting someone in his arms---that cascade of sleek black hair belonged to Peyton.

Peyton had fair skin and a voluptuous figure. She wore a man's oversized jacket over her bikini.

She'd seen me from far away but made no attempt to step out of Brian's embrace.

Only when I came closer did she shyly pull away.

"Charlotte... don't get the wrong idea..."

She made sure I couldn't miss the blush lingering on her face.

Brian only noticed me when he turned around. His face showed no trace of panic.

He urgently pushed Peyton toward me. "Peyton just cut her foot swimming. Can you check if she needs a tetanus shot?"

"At the beach?" I couldn't help asking.

He couldn't swim to save his life. I'd spent three years trying to teach him with no success.

We hadn't picked the banquet menu yet. The officiant was waiting to finalize the ceremony. He'd said he had no time.

But he had time to go swimming with her.

My wavering heart had already begun to tilt decisively in one direction.

"The pool..." He impatiently cut me off. "Does it matter where? Did you even hear what I said?"

An image flashed in my mind---him standing at the poolside, watching Peyton splash around, posting those anonymous comments.

That line "she's not the only option" became crystal clear.

My throat tightened. My voice turned cold. "Find a doctor. Why are you asking me?"

Brian grabbed my arm. "Registration takes too long. Just help her clean the wound first."

I glanced at him. "I'm just a nurse. I don't own the hospital."

The frustration in my chest made it impossible to stay calm, especially seeing Peyton still clinging to him.

Peyton flinched slightly. "Brian, I should just register. Don't make things difficult for Charlotte."

The small distance she'd created completely vanished as she pressed closer again.

Brian acted as if that arm was paralyzed, seemingly unaware of her soft chest pressed against him.

Perhaps spoiled by my usual compliance, he showed a hint of displeasure.

"What's difficult about it? It's just a simple task. Isn't this what she does?"