Chapter 4

Just as I took a cab back home, a message popped up from the florist.

“Ms. Donovan, are you sure you want to swap the real flowers in your bridal bouquet for artificial ones?”

I read the message in complete confusion, instinctively replying, “I never said anything about swapping the flowers.”

The florist explained, “Your fiancé asked to change them to artificial flowers. He said you’re allergic to real ones. But I wanted to double-check with you directly.”

I wasn’t allergic to real flowers. The one allergic to real flowers was Aurelia.

So Xavier wanted artificial flowers for Aurelia’s sake.

Even though I already knew the answer in my heart, I still wanted to ask.

I called Xavier. “Why did you replace my bridal bouquet with fake flowers? You know I’m allergic to synthetic materials. Did you forget?”

The sounds of the busy street buzzed in the background, but I could hear Xavier clearly.

“I didn’t forget,” he said. “That’s why I made sure to get you some allergy medicine. Besides, you’re going to toss the bouquet anyway. Aurelia’s doctor said she’s in fragile health and shouldn’t risk an allergic reaction.”

So Xavier would rather let me suffer an allergic reaction than let Aurelia endure one.

Back when I had accidentally bitten down on a plastic straw, hives had broken out all over my body.

At the time, Xavier had frantically carried me to the hospital. When the doctor explained my severe sensitivity to synthetic plastics, Xavier had promised me:

“I’ll remember. I won’t let you touch a single piece of plastic for as long as I live.”

It turned out Xavier’s idea of “a lifetime” was this fleeting.

I let out a bitter laugh, tears spilling over the corners of my eyes.

After hanging up, I texted the florist back, “No need to swap them. Just make the real flowers look like artificial ones.”

That evening, Xavier actually returned home.

However, the moment he stepped through the door, he confronted me aggressively.

“Arabella, why did you unleash an online mob on Aurelia?” he demanded. “Do you have any idea how devastated she is?”

I stared at him in utter bewilderment. Opening my phone to check, I finally realized what had happened.

Aurelia had posted photos from her restaurant visit, and someone had commented underneath:

“This guy has a bride-to-be. He’s getting married tomorrow.”

Because of that comment, Aurelia was being dragged online as a home-wrecker.

And Xavier assumed that comment had been posted by me.

Simply because the IP address traced back to the bridal shop.

No matter how I tried to explain, Xavier refused to listen.

“Arabella, I’m marrying Aurelia first tomorrow morning to clarify to the public that she isn’t a home-wrecker,” he said coldly. “In the evening, I’ll marry you. But to keep Aurelia from being exposed, our wedding won’t have any guests—just you and me.”

I scoffed. “Xavier, can a wedding with just two people even be called a wedding?

“Back then, you said you wanted the whole world to witness our love, that you wanted me to walk down the aisle with pride and dignity,” I continued, my voice trembling. “Now, I’m the one who has to be kept hidden from the light.”

A flicker of guilt flashed across Xavier’s eyes, but he quickly steeled his expression.

“If you hadn’t orchestrated this online attack against Aurelia, I wouldn’t have had to do this,” he snapped. “Arabella, you brought this all on yourself.”

It felt as though a deep wound had been carved into my heart.

It didn’t hurt too much.

Or perhaps it was because the pain had rendered me completely numb.

By the time I snapped out of my daze, Xavier had already left.

He had taken the custom wedding gown he had ordered for me three months ago, along with the wedding shoes he had meticulously picked out.

He had even taken every single bridal hairpiece I was supposed to wear tomorrow.

The room looked noticeably emptier, washing over me with an overwhelming sense of loneliness for the very first time.

I didn’t sleep well that night.

I dreamed of Xavier from seven years ago—except in the dream, he didn’t help me chase down the thief who grabbed my bag.

He didn’t break a leg doing it, either.

I didn’t hold Xavier and cry in gratitude, nor did I invite him out to dinner to thank him.

And I never ended up with Xavier.

Was that a nightmare or a sweet dream?

I couldn’t tell anymore. All I remembered was waking up with a hollow ache in my chest.

Quietly and calmly, I packed up the remainder of my belongings and boarded a flight.

From this moment on, Xavier and I were nothing to each other.