Chapter 1

Edward Grant once made a promise to his female best friend, Charlotte Stone. "Until you get married, I won't get married either."

I was twenty-six that year.

Then Charlotte got her heart broken, and he postponed our wedding.

She called off her engagement, and he canceled ours.

When she wrapped her arms around him and told him she couldn't bear to let him go, he turned around and comforted me.

"Wait one more year. I promise. It’s the last time," he said.

So I waited until I was thirty.

Last month, Charlotte finally got married.

Surely, it was my turn now.

On the day of Edward’s ninth proposal, he had just opened the ring box when Charlotte handed me a document titled "Wife’s Agreement."

On it stated: [The second bedroom in the marital home will always be reserved for Charlotte.

[If she gets into a fight with her husband, Edward must pick her up within thirty minutes.

[If she has a prenatal appointment and no one is available to go with her, Edward will automatically step in.

[Birthdays, family emergencies, and guys' nights out must never become a lower priority simply because he's married.]

And the final clause: [A wife can be divorced. A best friend can never be cut off.]

Edward and Charlotte had already signed their names side by side at the bottom.

Charlotte, seven months pregnant, pushed the pen toward me. "Come on, Vivian. I have a husband and a baby of my own now. You don't still think I'm a threat, do you?"

Edward hadn't gotten down one one knee, the ring box in his palm. When he looked up at me, his expression was as gentle as ever. "Sign it, and I'll put the ring on your finger."

I didn't take the pen.

Instead, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in two years. "Michael, is that custom couture line in Baylor City you mentioned before still available?"

There was a two-second pause on the other end, then came the reply. "It is."

"Okay," I said.

*****

Edward didn't get down on one knee.

He glanced at my phone, his tone cooling a bit.

"Who was that?" he asked.

Charlotte laughed. "Seriously, why would you a friend in the middle of a proposal?

"Vivian, you're not trying to make Edward jealous, are you?"

She was thirty-one weeks pregnant, and Edward was still listed as her first emergency contact on her prenatal check-up forms.

She'd once explained it, totally unapologetic. "David's always off on business trips, but Edward's different.

"Even if I call him at three in the morning, he'll show up."

Now, she slid the Wife's Agreement right back in front of me.

"Edward and I have been friends for over twenty years. Just because he's getting married, we can't toss out our friendship, right?" Charlotte said.

She was honestly baffled.

To her, I was some stranger crashing into their lives out of the blue.

I asked, "So you two have already decided how things will work after I get married?"

Charlotte frowned.

"It's not about rules. It's so we won't end up fighting later," she said. "Couples might break up, but real friends stick together for life."

Edward finally cut her off.

"Charlotte, that's enough," he said.

Then he took my hand and gently pulled me a step closer.

"Vivian, Charlotte and I are just friends. Don't let it bother you," Edward said.

He opened the ring box again.

The band was a delicate vine pattern, from one of my mom's old sketches.

I'd only shown it to Edward once, but he never forgot.

Edward knew how to love.

He remembered I couldn't drink coffee on an empty stomach, and he'd drive all over town in the middle of the night to get me honey cake.

So I always thought Charlotte was simply a special case.

Now, he reminded me, "The hotel and wedding are all set for October sixteenth. This time, it's not changing."

I asked, "What about the agreement?"

"It's just a piece of paper," Edward said.

Charlotte rubbed her belly. "I've been having nightmares lately. I'm scared that after you two get married, you will make Edward cut me off, Vivian.

"Even David's fine with it. Vivian, you can't be more bothered by this than my own husband, right?"

Edward placed the pen in my palm, his thumb brushing softly over the back of my hand.

"Come on, sign it, and I'll propose to you in front of everyone," he said.

I drew my hand away.

"What if I don't sign it?" I asked.

He paused for a few seconds, then snapped the ring box shut.

"We'll talk about the wedding once you've figured things out," he said.

Back at our place, when he saw I was quiet, he ruffled my hair.

"Don't take the agreement to heart. Charlotte's moods have been unpredictable since she got pregnant," he said.

I asked, "What about when I'm upset?"

Edward smiled.

"You're not like her," he said. "You've always been more level-headed than her."

It suddenly clicked for me.

Because I was level-headed, I was supposed to give in.

Because I never made a fuss, he always went to comfort the one who did.

After he went to take a shower, I pushed open the door to the second bedroom.

My workbench had been shoved into the corner, and the new bed now occupied the sunniest spot in the room. There was a sticker on the wardrobe that said [For Charlotte Only].

My phone lit up with a message from Charlotte: [Don't touch the second bedroom, okay? If I ever fight with David, I'll need a place to go.]

In the renovation group chat, there was a message from Edward from last night.

It read: [Take down Vivian's old workbench and turn the second bedroom into a guest room.]

It was sent at 1:17 AM.

At that time, he was holding me and saying, "Vivian, this time, I really won't let you down again."

*****

The next afternoon, when I got to our marital home, my workbench was already halfway dismantled.

Gemstones, tools, and design drafts had all been shoved into cardboard boxes.

Michael had just sent over the Baylor City Couture Project materials last night.

I was planning to restart the project I had to pause two years ago for the wedding.

Now, the sample stones were all jumbled up, and two wax molds had been crushed.

The bottom box was completely soaked, and a half-open bucket of latex paint had tipped over beside it.

I lifted the lid of the box, and my hand froze.

My mom's sketchbook was ruined, the pages soft and waterlogged.

A few pencil sketches were clumped together in a wet lump.

Just then, Charlotte came out of the bathroom, wearing my spare slippers.

She froze for a second. "I didn't know there was anything important in there.

"The workers said it was in the way, so I told them to move it."

Edward came back from the balcony, his face instantly darkening. "Don't tear it. You can't force wet paper apart."

In less than half an hour, he'd already contacted the best restoration specialist in Rivenburgh.

But Charlotte murmured, "Vivian, if you really care so much about this room, I won't stay here."

Edward looked up right away.

"No one's asking you to leave," he said.

Her eyes went red in an instant. "David's always away on business, and I get scared when I have cramps in the middle of the night.

"Before, whenever I wanted to stay, I just stayed. Why do I have to change now that you're married?"

Edward looked at me, his voice tinged with helplessness.

"Vivian, it's just a workbench," he said.

"You promised me this room," I said.

"You can use the study too," he offered.

"The study doesn't have any natural light," I said.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Charlotte's only staying for a few months. Don't make a big deal out of it."

*****

That night, the restoration specialist confirmed that twelve pages were completely ruined.

Three of them were the last full sketches my mom ever drew before she died.

They were also the original drafts for my very first concept of the Baylor City Couture Project, two years back.

The project had already been put on hold once because of the wedding.

And now, as I was finally ready to start again, those drafts were gone.

Edward warmed up some milk for me and sat down beside me. "I really didn't think things through this time.

"I'll get your workbench rebuilt, and we'll try to salvage as much of the sketchbook as we can."

He leaned down and kissed the top of my head.

"Don't be sad," he said.

Just then, his phone buzzed.

Charlotte texted about her prenatal check-up at three tomorrow.

She added that David got called away to Camden City.

Edward read the message, his arm still around me.

"I might be late for the dress fitting tomorrow," he said.

I reminded him, "We booked it for two-thirty."

"The clinic's close. It won't take long."

"I haven't signed the agreement yet."

He went quiet for a second, then took my hand again.

"It's just a piece of paper, Vivian," he said. "If she's really got no one to go with her, I can't leave her hanging."

*****

The next afternoon, I waited from two-thirty until six.

Edward never showed up.

But Charlotte sent me an ultrasound photo.

In the picture, Edward was carrying her bag and coat for her.

She captioned it: [The baby wouldn't show its face again today. Good thing I've got a second family member to rely on.]

As I was changing back into my clothes, the manager came over.

He said, "Mr. Grant asked us to set aside an extra hundred of the wedding favors for October sixteenth. Ms. Stone wants to use them for her baby's sip-and-see party too."

The wedding hadn't even happened yet, but he was already setting up another woman's baby celebration.