Chapter 1

"There's nothing wrong with life here in Pine Ridge. Even if you really wanted to leave, you shouldn't have pinned your hopes on a man like that," the village chief, Arthur Langley, took a drag from his pipe and coughed.

"He carries that camera around all day, filming one woman after another from every village he visits. If he were really worth a damn, he wouldn't have let you make seven trips to town for nothing."

The sharp smell of tobacco made my nose sting.

For four years, Joseph Kingsley's camera had traveled to every corner of Pine Ridge, filming every woman in every village—everyone except me.

I held back my tears and nodded. "I won't wait around anymore, Arthur. Let's hold the wedding in three days."

On my way back to the village, I ran into Joseph as he was bringing Gemma Watson home. He carried her carefully on his back. When he spotted me standing at the fork in the road, he frowned in confusion.

"Caroline, weren't you supposed to wait for me at the foot of the mountain? We were going to get our marriage license tomorrow. It won't be easy making another trip down now that you've come back."

I lowered my head and looked at my heels, where the skin had been rubbed raw from all the climbing. He was right. It hadn't been easy.

For the sake of a single promise from him, I had gone down the mountain and back up seven times.

I fought back the sting in my nose. "Today. We agreed to get our marriage license today."

Joseph froze for a moment. "I thought I'd explained it to you. Gemma got her leg caught in a trap. That's why I couldn't make it."

I looked at Gemma, draped comfortably across his back. "There were plenty of people in the team. Why did it have to be you?"

"That's different," he argued. "She got hurt while helping me with the documentary. I'm responsible for her."

Yeah, I saw the difference. When Gemma got hurt, it was of the utmost importance. When I waited for him to register our marriage, it became something he could break his promise over.

He might've noticed the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes, so he softened his tone. "I was wrong. Everything had been so chaotic that I forgot to let you know. I shouldn't have made you go down the mountain alone.

"Just wait another three days. The documentary I'm filming about Gemma is almost finished. Once it's done, I'll take you to town to get our marriage license."

My fingers slowly curled into my palm, nails digging into my skin. "This is already the seventh time."

Joseph adjusted Gemma higher on his back, impatience creeping into his voice. "I know what you're trying to say—that old Pine Ridge rule. But I already asked Gemma about it, and she said there's no such rule here.

"You don't have to make things up just for me to marry you, Caroline. I already said I would."

I pressed my thumb into the soft flesh between my fingers. "So, your reasoning for breaking our promise was that there wasn't such a rule?"

He frowned. "Don't make me out to be that kind of person. I understand that you want me to take you away from Pine Ridge, but this isn't the time for you to make a scene."

"Make a scene," I mumbled in defeat.

The truth was that the old Pine Ridge custom had been abolished years ago. Still, for four years, I had crossed mountain after mountain for Joseph.

The ridges here stretched endlessly into each other, layer upon layer. Among the women here, seven trips out of the mountains before marriage were considered the limit.

I dipped my head and looked at my leg, swollen like a turnip. "Go on. I'm sure Gemma's leg is more important."

Joseph walked past me with Gemma on his back. After a few steps, he suddenly turned and said, "I was harsh just now. Don't be upset."

"I'm not."

He continued toward the village. "I know you. You're kind. You'll understand."

I forced a smile. It wasn't that I wasn't upset. There was simply no point in being upset anymore.

In three days, I would be marrying a man from the neighboring village.

Grandma always said that a woman would only get married once in her life. Therefore, a bride should wear a smile on her wedding day. Only then could it be called a perfect union.