Chapter 1

The day I tried on the wedding dress, my fiancé Ethan called out the wrong name.

He was looking at my back when the words slipped out of him.

"Clara, you look beautiful."

Clara was my sister. She was also Ethan's first love.

She died in an accident during the year they loved each other most.

From that moment on, she carved a place in his heart that could never be erased.

Every year on Clara's anniversary, I would go with Ethan to lay flowers at her grave.

Ethan promised me they were in the past.

One day a year, he allowed himself to grieve.

The rest of his days belonged to me.

But clearly, he broke that promise.

Clara had never left his heart. Not for a single moment.

And I understood — the living can't compete with the dead.

If I couldn't win, then I was done trying.

A man who can't let go of the past — I don't want him anymore.

Soft morning light drifted through the window and settled over the white wedding dress.

It cast a kind of sacred glow over a dress that was never really mine.

Ethan recovered quickly.

He smiled and walked over to me like nothing had happened.

"You look beautiful in that dress."

"More beautiful than Clara?"

My smile didn't waver.

Ethan looked at me the way you'd look at a child throwing a small tantrum.

Gentle. Composed. Nothing like love.

"We agreed not to bring her up."

Some people are meant to stay buried in your heart.

I nodded quietly and let it go.

I went back into the dressing room and slipped off the dress that had never really belonged to me.

When I came back out, the saleswoman's smile turned syrupy.

She handed me a glass of water and poured on the flattery.

"Ma'am, you're so lucky — your fiancé is handsome and so generous."

"A wedding dress that costs over a million, and he didn't even blink."

Ethan came from a very particular kind of family.

Wealthy, but allergic to excess.

In the weeks leading up to the wedding, he reminded me constantly.

Stay composed. Keep a low profile. Don't give people anything to talk about.

And yet here he was, spending a small fortune on a dress this extravagant.

For Clara, I thought. It had to be.

For that one moment when he looked at my back and saw her instead.

A wedding is supposed to be a happy thing. And I was marrying a man who looked perfect on paper.

I should have smiled back at the saleswoman's well-wishes.

But for some reason, my face just wouldn't cooperate.

I looked up. Ethan had already walked outside.

He was holding a cigarette.

Seven years he'd been clean. This was the first time he'd broken that.

A small flame flickered at his fingertips, stuttering in and out.

I wondered if he was lost in the past again.

I didn't walk over to interrupt that moment.

I waited until his brow finally relaxed before stepping back to his side.

"It's getting late. Let's head home."

"Your grandmother's waiting for us for dinner."

The lighter clicked rhythmically in Ethan's hand.

After a brief silence, he let out a quiet sigh.

"Let's go."

He had accepted his fate.

Marrying a woman he didn't love — all for the sake of his family.

We got in the car. Out of habit, Ethan reached toward the breast pocket of his jacket.

His calm expression shifted into something frantic. He got out of the car and rushed back into the store.

I was pretty sure I knew why. He'd left a necklace in the dressing room.

The necklace he and Clara had exchanged as a promise.

When we first got together, Ethan stood in front of me and buried every one of Clara's belongings in the ground.

He swore to me, over and over, that he had moved on.

That our life together was what he wanted now.

But he lied.