A Heart Misfired

After the young officer Edward Shaw took first place in a high-profile shooting exhibition attended by senior officials, his family adopted a rather peculiar tradition. At the annual family banquet, he would perform a blindfolded shooting. Whichever woman's token his bullet struck was taken as a sign that she would become his fiancée. Determined to marry him, I placed the handkerchief I had carefully chosen as close to him as possible. Yet, for three consecutive years, his shots hit nothing at all. I told myself the handkerchief must have been too light, too easy to miss. So each year, I replaced it with something more refined, more eye-catching than before. That illusion lasted until the night before my eighteenth birthday, when I happened to overhear him speaking with a friend at a reception. "Miss Jasmine's handkerchief is right in front. Even blindfolded, you should be able to hit it. How do you keep missing every year?" Edward swirled his glass, his tone casual. "Tracy's still young. The moment she hears I'm getting engaged, she starts crying. "I promised I'd wait until she's a little older. As for Jasmine, she's waited for me all these years. It's not like she's going anywhere." With that, he casually tossed his glass into a metal bucket in the corner. It rang out with a sharp, hollow clang. I lowered my gaze and thought of my younger sister, only a year younger than me. So it had never been about the token. It was about the person who placed it there. In that case, there was no reason for me to keep holding on. After all, my father had already arranged a marriage for me. Three days later, at that same family banquet, I would be formally engaged.