Chapter 1

Nathan's POV

I was at home filling out application forms when my phone suddenly rang.

I casually picked it up, but all I could hear was the noisy crowd on the other end, as if the phone's owner was unaware that the call had gone through.

Someone said, "It's your turn now, Isabelle!"

My finger hovering over the "end call" button suddenly froze at the familiar name.

"If you were given another chance, would you still be with your fiance?" someone asked.

Even though I had already anticipated the answer, hearing my fiancee, Isabelle Bailey, say it herself still made my heart ache.

Laughter erupted around her at once.

"Exactly! What's so great about Nathan anyway? He's just a flower grower."

"That whole act of his might fool young girls, but his taste is terrible."

"He's just so tacky for sending roses every single time!"

I smiled self-deprecatingly. It turned out that the roses I had painstakingly cultivated were this worthless in their eyes.

Roses were clearly Isabelle's favorite flower, but she didn't say anything to defend me.

We met in college. She had stood in front of my research project display for a long time but couldn't quite get a photo she was satisfied with.

I happened to come by to log the details, so I offered to help her take a picture.

One thing led to another, and we naturally started dating.

I even made roses my graduate research topic knowing that it was Isabelle's favorite. But at the time, I didn't know she still had a first love she couldn't forget.

The person on the other end of the line seemed unaware that I was listening in. The game continued amidst the noisy chatter.

I wasn't sure what they had been talking about earlier, but someone jokingly asked Shawn Sanders, Isabelle's first love, if he'd try to hijack the wedding if his stage partner ever got married.

His calm voice came through. "I wouldn't."

The lively atmosphere instantly fell silent, and things quickly turned awkward.

Someone hurried to smooth things over. "It's just a game. Don't take it seriously! Come on, time to drink!"

I couldn't help but imagine the expression on Isabelle's face when she heard that. She would probably try to hide her emotions by drinking more.

It turned out that unloved people were equally pitiful.

As if the owner of the phone had finally noticed that a call had been dialed out, the line was cut off immediately.

I quietly put my phone down.

The clock hands were already pointing to 11:00 pm by the time I was done with my work. I turned off the last light in the living room and went back to my room to rest.

I was a light sleeper, so even the faintest bit of light made it hard for me to sleep.

But no matter how late Isabelle came home, there would always be a lamp left on in the living room.

I would be leaving for the northwestern region of the country soon. It was just as well for her to get used to it ahead of time.

…

Just like many times before, Isabelle didn't come home that night.

It wasn't until late the next morning that she pushed the door open, walking in with her gaze trained on her phone. As she typed out a message, she called out toward my room, "I'm hungry."

I didn't even look up, staying focused on what I was doing. "Then order some takeout. I've been rather busy lately."

Isabelle frowned in displeasure, put down her phone, and stepped in front of my computer. The smell of alcohol hit me immediately.

She said, "Can you stop making a fuss? We were just acting. What's the big deal about kissing when emotions are running high in a scene? Do you know how many people flew here just to watch the romantic scenes between Shawn and me?"

I nodded slightly, but my gaze remained fixed on the computer behind her. "Yeah. It was very convincing."

Impatience flickered across Isabelle's face when she thought I was still angry. "That's enough, Nathan. Just because I'm with you doesn't mean I can't act in romantic scenes anymore!"

Seeing that I barely reacted, she turned to shut down my computer. But she paused when she saw the words "wedding plan" on the screen.

It was supposed to be our wedding, yet Isabelle hadn't been involved in any part of it from beginning to end. I had even chosen her wedding dress for her.

I hadn't expected that I would be the only one looking forward to this wedding.

A flicker of guilt flashed across Isabelle's face, and her tone softened. "I've just been really exhausted from rehearsals lately. Once I'm done with this busy period, I'll spend time with you."

She said she was exhausted, yet she had stayed out drinking with friends all night yesterday. I couldn't tell whether she thought I was easy to fool or simply didn't care about how I felt.

But I didn't want to argue with her. I merely replied calmly, "Okay."