A week later, after finally finishing a string of business matters, Mason opened our chat window.The screen was still frozen on the last message he had sent me: [I told you, I won't rush into marriage. Calm down and think things through. When you stop pressuring me, I'll come home.]When he realized I hadn't replied, his brows drew tightly together.He knew me well. Even after arguments or silent treatment, I was always the first to reach out, asking when he would come home.But this time, he had been gone for an entire week, and I hadn't sent a single message.A faint uneasiness crept into his chest.Just then, his assistant suddenly grabbed his phone and shouted, "Mr. Ryder, look! Ms. Walker posted photos on social media! Today is Ms. Blake's wedding! The Black family even invited a lot of guests!"Mason immediately snatched the phone.In the photo, I was wearing a wedding dress, holding a bouquet as I stood before a window with billowing curtains, looking elegant and beauti
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