Chapter 3

After dark, I had just gotten into bed when Harper pressed herself against my back and wrapped her arms around my waist.

Her cheek rested against my back as she spoke softly. "Adrian, I still can't believe we've been together for so many years."

I listened to her emotional sigh and stared blankly ahead, my back still turned to her.

The truth was, I knew she'd kept quite a few men on the side over the years. Most of them resembled the man I used to be in one way or another. Some looked like me. Others shared my old personality. A few even sounded like me.

Meanwhile, Dylan looked almost exactly like the man I used to be, with at least an 80% resemblance.

I knew Harper didn't love any of those men. She didn't love the man I'd become, either. The person she loved was the Adrian who lived in her memories, the bright, radiant young man who had once been willing to risk everything for her.

Harper tightened her arms around my waist. "In two days, you'll finally be my husband."

The sweetness in her voice made the tip of my nose sting. I could only suppress my emotions and give her a muffled response.

In the quiet bedroom, she still didn't notice anything was wrong.

After a long silence, she suddenly sat up. "Oh, right, Adrian. You know how couples aren't supposed to see each other during the days before the wedding, right? How about I stay at the studio for the next few days?"

She paused, as if she'd realized how abrupt the suggestion sounded.

"It's mainly because the suit I had custom-made for you is being delivered to the studio. I'm worried someone might handle it carelessly and damage it." Her tone was tentative.

I simply nodded.

Even during the final days before our wedding, all she could think about was going to be with Dylan.

"Adrian, if you're upset—"

"You're right," I cut in.

She froze, then fell silent.

After a while, she looked at me quietly, just as she always had. She was waiting for me to take the initiative and ask her to stay, as I'd done countless times before.

But I didn't want to anymore. There was no point in trying to hold on to someone who wanted to leave.

Harper got dressed and turned to go. "Then don't forget to come try on your suit tomorrow at 3:30 p.m."

I quietly agreed.

Just as her hand reached for the doorknob, I called out to her, "Harper, if I wanted to have the scar on my back removed, would you agree?"

Harper froze for a moment before nodding eagerly. "Of course I would!"

Perhaps she realized she'd sounded too excited because she quickly reined herself in and leaned over to kiss my cheek. "I was just worried the scar might get inflamed during the summer and start hurting again."

I looked into her affectionate eyes and couldn't help laughing.

At first, the tears Harper shed whenever she saw my scar had been genuine. But over time, those tears had become mixed with irritation, then eventually disgust.

Every time she saw that scar, she remembered the past she'd once been trapped in. She remembered everything she owed me. That was why she'd always tried to persuade me to have it removed, but I'd stubbornly refused.

I never imagined my refusal would gradually turn me into yet another reminder of the past that had suffocated her.

The moment the door closed, I could no longer hold back my tears. They soaked into my pillow.

…

Early the next morning, I went to a dermatology clinic.

On the way there, I received a message from Dylan.

[Mr. Parsons, I'm going to the studio today to try on your wedding suit. You won't mind, right?]

My fingers trembled, but I didn't reply.

I simply took screenshots of every message and planned to compile them into a gift for Harper on the day I left.

…

As I lay on the operating table, I shuddered when the cold anesthetic entered my body through the needle.

"Let's begin," I said softly.

Through the haze, one thought kept circling in my mind: If the 18-year-old Harper could see me now, she would probably be heartbroken.

…

The procedure went smoothly.

It hurt, but when I looked at the smooth, scar-free skin on my back, I smiled.

From that day forward, there would be no trace of Harper left on my body or in my heart.

After the procedure, I received another message from Dylan. This time, he sent me a photo.

In it, Harper and Dylan stood together in formal wedding attire. They looked so perfectly matched that the sight was almost painful.

If you didn't look closely, you might actually think the man standing beside her was the 18-year-old me.

I smiled mockingly.

…

At 3:30 p.m. that afternoon, I arrived at Harper's studio right on time.

She was studying the presentation she'd painstakingly prepared, her face filled with longing for the happy life she'd imagined.

When she saw me walk in, she happily waved me over and handed me the suit she'd set aside nearby.

"Adrian, hurry and try it on. I found a renowned designer for this suit, and it took more than two weeks to design. Then I spent a fortune having a master tailor overseas make it. You're going to look amazing in it!"

I casually turned the suit over and immediately spotted the tear Dylan had deliberately made in the lining.

I looked at Harper with a smile. "Harper, why is there a tear in the lining? Don't tell me someone wore this before me."

A flicker of guilt crossed her eyes, but her voice remained calm as she denied it. "How could that be? This suit was designed specifically for you. There's only one in the entire world. Why would I ever let someone else wear it?"

Her hand tightened unconsciously around the hem of the suit, a clear sign of her guilt.

"I'll try that one instead." I casually pointed to a white suit nearby.

Harper frowned. "But Adrian, didn't you say you only wanted to wear the suit I picked out for you?"

"But this one is torn..." I looked at her as I spoke. "You wouldn't want me walking into our wedding in a ruined suit, would you?"

Harper knew she was in the wrong, so she could only nod and agree to let me change.

When I took off my shirt, she stared at my smooth back and froze. "Y-You really had the scar removed?"

Her fingers trembled as she gently touched my back.

I nodded, took the suit from her, and put it on. Then I turned toward the mirror and examined the fit with complete indifference. "Didn't I ask you about it yesterday? You were very supportive."

The moment I finished speaking, Harper's eyes reddened for no apparent reason. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

I met her gaze through the mirror and smiled faintly.

I didn't know when it had happened, but her so-called love had become a shackle. She wanted me to remain 18-year-old Adrian forever, always by her side.

Whatever she said, I did. But I was 25 now.