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Damarion Mayer's childhood friend, Brylee Whitney, relapsed into depression, leaving me another note. He said, "Sorry, let my friend stand in for me at the wedding this time. Wait for me a year, and I'll host a grand wedding for you then." This time, I didn't make a scene. In my past life, I couldn't endure his repeated wedding cancellations and forced him to finish the ceremony at the threat of my own life. That night, Brylee jumped off the building. He claimed it was Brylee's choice, and no one could stop her. Yet after the wedding, he schemed to force my parents into debt, driving them to attempt suicide. On the day I fell ill, he cruelly pushed me into a hospital room filled with lilies. "If you hadn't forced me with death before, Brylee wouldn't have died. You must pay with your life," he said. After suffocating to death from an allergic reaction, I returned to the wedding scene. His mixed-race friend looked at me seriously and said, "I've loved you for five years. Can you leave him and make our pretend love real?" I nodded. If I were going to marry, it had to be someone who truly loved me.