Chapter 1

After ten years together, Andrew Cooper promised me a wedding that everyone in the city would envy.

But three days before the wedding, I received an anonymous package.

Inside was a photo of Andrew and a girl, both holding their marriage license.

The girl was leaning on his shoulder, her smile lighting up, while Andrew looked down at her like she was something precious he'd gotten back.

There was a card that said, [I'm back.]

I took the photo to Andrew, and he answered me calmly, "It's true. Emily never planned on getting married, but she wanted to experience what it's like to get a marriage license as a memory. I was helping her fulfill a wish; that's all."

I remembered the day Andrew proposed. I was so happy that I texted all my friends and family, telling them I was finally going to marry him.

"If you're not comfortable with this, call off the wedding. It's not like I have to marry you," Andrew said.

"I'll marry you," I retorted.

The wedding would go on as planned, but he might no longer be the groom.

*****

"Alright, you take care of it yourself. Emily's landing this afternoon. I'll pick her up, and we're throwing her a welcome party tonight. Go fit your dress yourself," said Andrew.

He set the photo back on the table, like it was some random receipt.

He was sure I wouldn't leave.

That made sense. For the past ten years, I'd been chasing after him.

I gave up a college offer out of town for him, turned down a spot at the Objects Conservation Lab, and missed Grandma's last moments because I was out negotiating a debt for him.

He was used to me always putting myself last.

He was so used to it that even after he'd gotten a marriage license with Emily, he probably expected me to swallow my pride and go through with the wedding.

"Oh, and you have to come to the welcome party tonight," Andrew said, fastening his cufflinks in front of the mirror. "Emily specifically said she hasn't seen you in ages and wants to have dinner with you.

"I'll send you the address. After you try on your dress, head over."

Everyone in the neighborhood always believed that Andrew and Emily were the perfect match.

Whenever we played house, they were the bride and groom, and I was the girl running around serving them.

Andrew had been my unattainable crush for ten long years, someone I'd dared not reach for.

If Emily hadn't left for abroad seven years ago, I probably wouldn't have gotten close to him.

Emily never forgot about me.

She made a point of sending me a photo before she returned.

This time, I didn't agree the moment Andrew asked, like I always used to.

"I have something to do today, so I can't make it," I said.

"You have something to do?" Andrew paused, his hand still on his cufflink. "What could you possibly have to do?"

"I'm packing up," I said.

I also wanted to say I was leaving, but he cut me off before I could finish. "Grace, can you stop making a scene?"

He snapped his cufflink shut with a sharp click. "You can't bother to make up a decent excuse. You have to show up tonight. I already told Emily you'd be there.

"She doesn't even mind seeing you. There's no need for you to play the victim."

Of course, she didn't mind seeing you. She stole my fiancé, after all.

But Andrew wouldn't listen.

Before he left, he added, "Don't embarrass me in front of Emily."

After the door closed, I stood in the living room, staring down at the package.

There was another line written on the back of the photo. [He is always mine.]

I stuffed the photo into the trash and called Grandpa.

He picked up right away, his voice raspy from waking up. "Hello, Grace?"

"Grandpa, you once said you'd let me take over the Restoration Studio. Does that still count?" I said.

There was a brief silence on the other end.

"You're not marrying him?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

I was ready to explain, but Grandpa said, "Come back. I'll keep the keys for you."

After hanging up, I messaged the bridal shop to cancel my dress fitting, then started packing my things.

This place was Andrew's.

I moved in after he proposed a year ago.

That day, he got down on one knee by the river and said, "Grace, I can only keep moving forward because I know you've always got my back.

"It's been ten years, and I want to give you a real home. Will you marry me?"

I said yes.

The next day, I moved in with two suitcases. I bought curtains, picked out dishes, filled the balcony with flowers, and turned this cold house into what I thought was my home.

When I really thought about it, there was barely anything here that actually belonged to me.

I grabbed a trash bag.

Then, I filled it with the tie I'd bought for Andrew, the couple‑themed mugs he'd dismissed as childish and never used, the new‑home decorations meant to go up in three days, and the wedding photos tucked deep at the bottom of my closet.

Halfway through my packing, the doorbell rang.

Two people in gray work uniforms stood at the door, holding clipboards. "Excuse me, are you Ms. Emily Lane?"

I glanced at the property manager badges on their chests. "I'm not Emily. She'll be here in a few days. If you're looking for her, you can try again then."

Once I was gone, this place might become Andrew and Emily's new home.

Or maybe they would prefer somewhere untouched by me and move to a place that felt fresher.

None of that mattered to me anymore.

"Is there anyone else at home?" The older property manager glanced at his clipboard. "We've been in touch with Ms. Lane in the residents' group chat. We're here to do a routine gas check today."

My hand froze on the doorknob. "You got in touch with Emily through the residents' group chat?"

I had been living here for a year, and I had never heard about any group chat for residents.

How did Emily end up in the residents' group chat?

The property manager was taken aback. "Ms. Lane is listed as the contact for this property. She didn't mention that to you?"

I let them in to do the check.

The younger property manager sensed something was off and lowered his voice. "Ma'am, the contact person for this apartment was switched last year.

"The owner's records list Ms. Lane's phone number, and she's the one who replies to all our messages."

My gaze was glued to the wedding photo Andrew had hung on the wall.

In the picture, he had his arm around my waist with a gentle smile.

So it turned out, from the very first day I moved in, this place was always waiting for Emily.