Chapter 1

Serena's POV

"Why are you crying on a day like this?"

Daniel frowned, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.

He stepped closer, pulling me against his chest. His fingers gently wiped away the tears I hadn't realized were falling.

"In front of all these people, Chloe has to be the bride today," he whispered. "Be reasonable. Don't make things difficult for her."

I raised my head and looked around.

Every face in the room was a stranger.

The invitations, the welcome board, the wedding photos, everything had been replaced with Chloe's name and face.

I was the only outsider. I looked like an uninvited ex trying to crash a wedding.

Daniel nudged me with an urgent look.

"Be good. Let me help Chloe through her treatment first. I promise I’ll give you a real wedding after."

There it was again. His third promise.

I couldn't bring myself to believe it anymore.

My voice was raspy. "No need."

If it wasn't mine, I didn't want it anymore.

"You can marry whoever you want," I said, looking straight at him. "But that wedding dress is mine. Tell her to take it off and give it back."

I took a step forward. I hadn't even touched Chloe yet.

Daniel’s face instantly darkened. He placed himself protectively in front of her.

"Enough! It’s just a dress. Why do you have to be so petty?"

He lowered his voice, irritation flashing in his eyes. "Have some self-respect in front of all these guests."

"I just want my own property back..." I mumbled.

He grabbed my wrist tightly. A sharp, bone-deep pain shot up my arm, but I barely felt it.

I reached out anyway, trying to grab the hem of my dress.

Suddenly, Chloe screamed and shoved me away.

The champagne tower beside us crashed to the floor with a terrifying shatter.

Sticky liquid splashed everywhere, ruining the pristine white silk of the gown.

"Ah! That hurts!" Chloe cried out.

She clutched her arms, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes.

"Serena, Daniel bought this dress for me! How is it yours?"

"If you like it that much, I can lend it to you when you get married," she whimpered. "You’ve had him for ten whole years.

“I'm dying. I just wanted to marry him once before my surgery. Is that too much to ask?"

Seeing Chloe burst into tears, Daniel’s expression turned icy.

Then he saw me lying in the mess on the floor.

A shard of broken glass had sliced my elbow. Blood pooled onto the soaked rug.

The harsh words died in his throat. He instinctively reached a hand out toward me.

Before he could touch me, Chloe started sobbing hysterically again.

"Serena... does ruining my wedding really make you feel that good?"

Murmurs immediately broke out among the guests.

"Look at that. Chloe is the one who's sick, but the ex-girlfriend is playing the victim."

"Right? I heard she used to work as a nightclub hostess. No wonder she has no manners."

The whispers felt like needles sticking into my back.

My lips became drained of color.

Seeing the crowd's reaction, Daniel pulled his hand back as quickly as he had offered it.

"You heard them? Get up on your own."

He didn't say the rest out loud, but I read his eyes clearly.

‘Stop acting. I'm not falling for it.’

An agonizing surge of pain ripped through my lower leg. My bone had snapped.

The cancer had already hollowed out my bones from the inside.

Sometimes ago, after suffering through six agonizing months of chemotherapy alone, I finally built up the courage to tell Daniel the truth.

But he dismissed me before I could even finish.

"I'm too busy at work right now," he said impatiently. "It’s just a routine checkup. Stop being so dramatic, okay?"

Later that same night, I saw Chloe’s social media post.

Daniel was holding a dirty stray dog in his arms like a newborn baby with a caption.

[If digging through trash cans across the city with me at 4 a.m. isn’t love, then love doesn’t exist.]

At 4 a.m. that morning, I was sitting alone in a sterile hospital room.

I was staring numbly at the swollen, bruised needle marks on the back of my hands.

He never knew I wasn't there for a checkup. I was there for chemotherapy.

And he had completely ignored the drawers full of painkillers in our apartment.

"Everyone is watching," Daniel demanded, his voice cold. "How much longer are you going to lie on the floor?"

The sharp agony in my leg pulled me back to reality.

I looked up at him, practically begging.

"I'll let her have the wedding. I'll let her have you. I don't want anything else. Just give me the dress... Please..."

Before he could answer, a sudden gasp echoed through the hall.

Chloe fainted.

Daniel caught her in his arms instantly.

Panic washed over his face as he scooped her up, stepping right over me to rush for the doors.

As he moved, the train of the wedding dress caught on a jagged piece of broken glass on the floor.

Rrrrip.

The delicate fabric which was already stained with champagne, was torn open by a massive, ragged tear.

I froze.

That was the last wedding dress my mother ever made before she passed away.

She had made it so she could symbolically witness my happiness.

Now, it was completely destroyed.

Just like everything else I tried so hard to hold onto.

No matter how hard I fought, I could never keep a single thing.