Chapter 2

A long silence hung on the other end of the line. Then came Dad's sigh.

"Willow, did you and Malcolm have another fight? I never planned to give those projects to Gray Corporation in the first place. You were the one who knelt outside my study for three days, begging me. You can't keep acting on impulse and treat the company's future like a game, darling."

I sat on the stairs, my fingers brushing against the bruises on my knees. When I pressed down, a sharp pain shot through them.

"Dad, I mean it this time. I'll report to the international branch next week. I promise I won't be so petulant anymore, Dad."

Even Dad knew Malcolm was the person I treasured most in the world. How could my best friend not have known?

That night, the moment I got home, my phone rang again. It was the same number, and the same little girl's soft voice came through the speaker.

"Miss, why haven't you accepted my friend request?"

A mix of resentment and anger twisted together in my chest. I wanted to understand exactly where things had gone south. So, I accepted her friend request. It helped a lot that she was talkative.

I stared at the cute stickers on the screen, hesitating before asking, "Nina, do you know how your daddy and mommy got together?"

She sent me a long voice message, her voice bubbling with pride.

"Of course! I know their whole love story! Every night, when Daddy tucks me into bed, he tells me about how he and Mommy fell in love."

I sat there in a daze, staring at the photo frame on the coffee table. Inside was the first picture Malcolm and I had ever taken together.

I had pursued him for three years, from high school all the way through college. At our high school graduation ceremony, Summer had teased me relentlessly and pushed me toward Malcolm. She winked at me, signaling me to move closer so we could take a picture together.

Malcolm had refused at first. When I accidentally brushed against him, he had even discreetly dusted off the spot where I'd touched him.

Annoyed, Summer dragged me over to him, insisting that he take a picture with the two of us. I thought he would reject us again, but this time, he agreed.

Later, Summer sent me the photo and had cropped herself out of it on purpose. I was so happy I couldn't sleep that night. I set the photo as my lock screen wallpaper and kept it there for four years.

"Nina, I'd love to hear that story," I said. "Can you tell me, please?"

"Of course!" Nina chirped. "Daddy said that he fell in love with Mommy at first sight at their high school graduation ceremony. They took a picture together that day, and it's still hanging above their bed."

She then took a picture and sent it to me. When I opened the image, it was none other than our graduation photo. Except this time, the person standing in the middle—me—had been edited out.

Beside it hung a vintage-style wedding portrait of Summer and Malcolm.

A couple of days ago, I'd brought up wedding photo ideas with Malcolm and mentioned I liked them retro. Without even looking up or glancing at the pictures I'd shown him, he'd shaken his head.

"Nah," he said. "It looks too outdated and feels kind of creepy. Let's go with something else."

This past year, I'd suggested more than 100 different wedding photo ideas, and he'd rejected every single one. It turned out the issue was never about the style. It was the bride.

Nina kept talking excitedly. She told me how much effort Malcolm had put into pursuing Summer. From their high school graduation to their college graduation, their story sounded like something out of a fairy tale.

Meanwhile, I felt more like the unwanted third wheel in this relationship.

A sour wave churned in my stomach. The nausea was so overwhelming that I almost threw up.

In my distraction, my phone slipped onto the carpet. When I reached down to pick it up, I accidentally turned on the video call function.

The moment Nina saw my face, she stopped talking and froze. She looked scared, even.

I positioned my phone straight and asked softly, "What's the matter, Nina?"

She seemingly sighed in relief and said, "Oh, it's you, Ms. Rosewood. You actually look quite pretty when you're not acting crazy."