Chapter 3

Julian frowned. "What do you mean, 'talk about it later'?"

I didn't answer. I turned on my heel and walked out.

Behind me, Tara’s timid voice drifted through the hallway.

"Julian... maybe I should just go."

"I don't want to ruin things between you two."

Julian’s tone instantly softened.

"Don't overthink it."

"She’s just in a mood. A little sweet talk tomorrow and she'll be fine."

"She’s always easy to placate."

My footsteps paused.

Only for a second.

Then, I pulled the front door open and walked out.

Inside the descending elevator, I caught my reflection in the mirror.

My face was terrifyingly calm.

Calm as if none of that humiliation had just happened to me.

My phone buzzed.

It was a text from Julian.

[Text me when you get home.]

[Don't hold a grudge against my mom. She’s from an older generation, and she can't easily change her ways.]

[I'll sort out arrangements for Tara later. I won't let her stay long.]

I stared at those lines for a long time.

He said "later."

He said "won't stay long."

Yet not once did he ask if I was okay with it.

Not once did he ask if I still wanted to marry him tomorrow.

I didn't reply.

When I arrived back at my parents' house, the living room lights were still blazing.

Mom was sitting on the couch reviewing the vendor schedule. Hearing the door, she looked up with a warm smile.

"Why are you back so late, sweetie?"

"Didn't you say you were staying at the condo to do a final check on everything?"

A sharp ache hit the back of my nose.

Mom instantly set the papers down and rushed over to steady me.

"What happened?"

I wanted to say nothing was wrong.

Yet the moment I opened my mouth, tears spilled over my cheeks.

Dad walked out of the kitchen holding a mug of warm milk. Seeing me in tears, his face hardened.

"Did Julian do something to you?"

I shook my head, then nodded.

In a trembling voice, I recounted every single detail of what had just happened.

When I reached the part about Tara moving into my master bedroom, Mom was shaking with anger.

When I told them about the seating chart, Dad slammed the mug onto the coffee table.

"You are not marrying him."

Mom’s eyes were bloodshot as she took my hands.

"Chloe, think carefully."

"Your father and I aren't forcing you to break up, and we're not trying to stir up drama."

"But getting married shouldn't feel like jumping into a pit of fire."

"If this is how they treat you before the wedding, your life will only be a living nightmare after."

I sat on the sofa, still gripping the folder with my legal papers.

My mind was a complete mess.

Six years of history couldn't simply vanish in an instant.

Julian hadn't always been like this.

He had once braved a midnight thunderstorm to bring me medicine.

He had stayed by my bedside all night when I suffered from severe food poisoning.

He had once held my hand tightly and promised, *Chloe, you are the only woman I will ever marry.*

Those moments were real.

Yet everything that happened tonight was just as real.