Chapter 1

One week before our wedding, my fiancé announced he wanted to climb Mount Everest — to declare his love for me from the highest point on earth.

I was touched, but still planned to talk him out of it, to suggest waiting until after the wedding. Then I accidentally overheard him talking to a few of his hiking buddies:

"Ethan, your phone has a GPS tracker on it. You actually want us to take it up to Everest and toss it out there?"

"Your fiancée is going to be beside herself with worry. What if she goes into the mountains looking for you?"

"Seriously, man. You two are about to get married. Pulling this fake-death stunt is just going to make her suffer for nothing."

Ethan listened with a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. "Can't help it. There's this girl I've been seeing. She's nearly ten months along, and I need to be there for her. Going off the grid for a while is the only way."

"Everest is a dead zone. Even if she begs for a rescue, they're not going to mount a major operation."

"Just make sure you throw the phone down toward the base of the mountain — make it look like I fell."

His hiking buddies exchanged glances. "Ethan, aren't you afraid she'll stop waiting and just... move on? Find someone else?"

Ethan gave a short, scornful laugh.

"Move on? Please. After six years of my psychological conditioning, combined with that hopeless romantic heart of hers — even if I actually died, she'd choose to stay single. She waited six years already. One more year is nothing. I'll come back, say the right things, and she'll fall right back into line."

Standing outside the door, I slowly loosened my grip on the handle.

So his "pre-wedding adventure" was an adventure with another woman.

I didn't stop him. I didn't cancel the wedding, either.

I just found myself a different groom.

……

At seven o'clock that evening, Ethan came home, a bag of strawberries — my favorite — dangling from his hand.

"Olivia, I need to talk to you about something." He set the strawberries on the coffee table, sat down, and put on his most sincere face. "Remember I told you I wanted to climb Everest next week? To let our love be as eternal as the ice and snow at the top of the world. Realistically, it'll take at least a month — which means we'd miss our wedding date."

He paused, heaving a calculated sigh. "The venue's booked for the end of May. If I'm not back in time, or if I'm not in the right shape for it, the ceremony won't be what we want. Maybe we should... push it back?"

I said nothing.

Seeing no reaction, he leaned forward.

"When I do the math, even if I get out by mid-May, I'd still need recovery time. The photos, the fittings, the invitations — none of it would work. Better to let everyone know now than scramble at the last minute. I'll send a message to all the family and friends today — let them know the wedding's canceled."

"Canceled?"

I repeated the word softly.

I wasn't sure if I was asking him or telling myself.

After all, I had waited nine entire years for this wedding.

Six years ago, he'd said: *Wait until my career is stable, then we'll get married.* I believed him.

Four years ago, he'd said: *Once I meet your parents, we'll set a date.* I even pushed my parents into it.

Two years ago, he'd said: *Just wait a little longer. Don't rush.*

This year, my parents had resorted to calling three times a week in rotating shifts.

I was in my thirties. I didn't want to keep floating in the limbo of "fiancée" forever.

I wanted to get married, build a career, get promoted, start a family — to finally turn that page of my life.

But Ethan never seemed to feel any urgency.

The day we booked the wedding venue, I was so happy I treated my entire team to afternoon tea.

My mother had booked a flight the same night, calling to say she was coming to help.

And now, with a single breezy word — *canceled* — he reduced every single person's hopes to dust.

He was spouting noble nonsense about our "love," but knowing what I knew, all I felt was disgust.

The irony was so sharp I couldn't even force out a word of accusation.

I opened my mouth, about to ask, *Do you have any idea how much this means to my mother?* — and swallowed it back down.

Because he had already lowered his head and was typing on his phone, sending a mass message about the canceled wedding.

He hadn't even glanced at me once.

When he finally put the phone down, he reached over and ruffled my hair.

"Once I'm back from Everest, we'll pick a new date. We're both still young — no need to rush things, right?"

I looked into his eyes.

The only thing echoing in my mind was what I'd heard that afternoon: *"I'll come back, say the right things, and she'll fall right back into line."*

So that was it. The first step of "saying the right things" was erasing the wedding so cleanly it left no trace.

"Ethan," I said quietly, "Everest is dangerous. People die up there. If you die, then everything is gone. Are you sure you want to go?"