Chapter 3

After Theo moved out, I was more than happy to have my peace and quiet as I slowly packed up my belongings.

However, on the afternoon of the fifth day, when I went to the bridal shop to pick up my wedding gown, I spotted two familiar faces in the fitting area—Theo and Octavia. Worse still, she was wearing the wedding gown I'd custom-ordered six months in advance.

When he caught sight of me, he arched his brow and scoffed. "I thought you said the wedding was off. Why are you here? You talked a big game, yet you still came here to try on your wedding gown."

Without sparing him so much as a glance, I said to the visibly flustered sales associate beside him, "I've already paid for this wedding gown in full. Why is someone else wearing it?"

The sales associate stammered, "Y-Your fiance said..."

"He's not my fiance," I cut her off coldly. Then, I pointed at Octavia. "Now, have her take it off."

Theo scowled. "Can't you be a little more sensible, Yvette? Do you really have to make such a scene in public? Octavia's my student. She's just never worn a wedding gown before, so I brought her here to try one on."

"She's never been dead either. Why don't you drop dead with her while you're at it?"

"Yvette!" His expression darkened in an instant. "Must you always be so cruel with your words?"

Octavia walked up to us with teary eyes. "I'm sorry, Yvette. I just thought this wedding gown was gorgeous, and I couldn't help myself…"

My gaze landed on her, and I was about to snap back when the emerald bangle on her wrist caught my eye. In a heartbeat, all my biting words died in my throat.

That was the Montagues' family heirloom. Supposedly, ever since Theo's great-great-grandmother's time, it had been passed down strictly to the lady of the Montague family.

That bangle had always been like a carrot dangled right in front of my eyes. I could see it, but I always had to push myself harder before I could touch it.

Because Theo's mother, Sienna Bellamy, casually mentioned that he had a sensitive stomach, I'd taught myself how to cook elaborate meals for him.

Because Theo's father, Winston Montague, loved art, I'd forced myself to study ancient relics and copybooks I'd never had any interest in. Even when it came to choosing gifts for holidays and special occasions, I had to deliberate over it half a month in advance.

Theo had always known of my efforts. He'd smile and ruffle my hair. "What's the rush? I'll put it on you myself on our wedding day."

His words had made me glow with happiness for a long, long time.

Yet now, I realized that the one thing I'd had to work so hard to obtain was given to Octavia so effortlessly. She didn't even have to do a single thing. So, this was the difference between the woman he loved and the woman he didn't.

As Theo sensed my gaze, an awkward expression crossed his face. However, he soon regained his self-righteous composure.

"I'll give you a grand wedding and the title of my wife. This bangle, on the other hand, is merely a material possession. I'll let Octavia have it so she has something to remember me by."

A self-deprecating chuckle escaped my lips. Looking back now, all those years I'd spent desperately trying to please him seemed like nothing more than a joke.

However, I only dwelled on that thought for a fraction of a second before I pulled myself together. "It's your family's property. You can give it to whomever you want. However, this wedding gown was bought with my own money."

I locked eyes with Octavia. "Now, take it off."

Theo's expression hardened. "Give it a rest, Yvette! If you keep being this unreasonable, I won't show up on the wedding day. Let's see how you explain it to both our families and friends when you don't have a groom at the altar!"

I almost laughed out loud. I'd already found myself a groom ages ago. From the moment I made that phone call, my wedding ceased to have anything to do with Theo.

I couldn't be bothered to explain myself, though. I simply reiterated, "Take off my wedding gown."

When Theo realized I wasn't giving him an ounce of grace, his features contorted, and he reached out to seize my arm. "Get over here!"

His movement was so frantic that I bumped into the display rack beside me. The heavy metal clothing rack came crashing down toward us. However, he instinctively let go of my hand and rushed to shield Octavia, who was farther away, pulling her tightly into his arms.

The very next second, with a deafening thud, the rack struck my wrist dead-on. The excruciating pain turned everything before my eyes pitch-black, causing my entire body to tremble uncontrollably.

…

After being rushed to the hospital, the doctor held up my X-rays and told me that I had a hairline fracture in my right wrist. I wouldn't be able to hold a pen for extended periods for at least three months, let alone do any work that required fine motor skills.

I stared at my right hand encased in a cast in silence for what felt like an eternity. I was an architectural designer, and not long after my wedding was the international design competition I'd spent an entire year preparing for. Now, it was all ruined.