Chapter 2

I drove home.

This apartment, located downtown, was the wedding home Ethan had bought.

Opening the door, I was met with a panorama of black, white, and gray.

Hard, cold marble floors, a black leather sofa, and a minimalist metal coffee table utterly devoid of any warmth.

Before we moved in, I’d enthusiastically shown him soft furnishing catalogs.

I’d said I wanted a cream-colored fabric sofa, a fluffy rug in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, and a few brightly colored oil paintings.

Ethan had looked up from his computer, his brow slightly furrowed.

“Rory, those things are too cluttered, too tacky. A home needs quality, not cheap coziness.”

I compromised.

Over three years, I had compromised countless times.

I thought it was just his occupational hazard as a CEO, accustomed to rigidity and efficiency.

Now that I thought about it, it wasn't that at all.

I walked to the living room's floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the gray sky.

The lock chimed.

Ethan was back.

He wore a impeccably tailored suit, his tie loosened slightly, his eyes holding their usual fatigue and indifference.

“How was the wedding dress fitting?”

He asked casually as he changed his shoes.

“It didn’t fit,” I turned to face him.

“What didn’t fit?” He walked to the island counter and poured himself a glass of ice water.

“The size was wrong. The waist was too big, the bust too tight.”

Ethan paused his drinking, then frowned.

“That was cut by the Paris atelier according to the golden ratio. Have you been slacking on your workouts lately, is your posture off? Haute couture is about the person adapting to the dress, not the dress adapting to the person.”

His tone was condescending, lecturing.

The person adapting to the dress.

I suddenly felt like laughing.

“Really? Because I feel like that dress wasn’t tailored for me to begin with.”

Ethan put down his water glass, his gaze hardening.

“Aurora, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now? That wedding dress cost me $1.2 million; do you know how much effort I put in to get the chief designer to rush it? Can’t you be more reasonable?”

“Reasonable?”

I looked at the face I had loved for three years.

He was handsome, wealthy, and in outsiders’ eyes, a flawless fiancé.

But at this moment, I only felt a profound unfamiliarity.

“Ethan, was ‘Sera’ embroidered inside the dress part of the golden ratio?”

The living room fell silent.

Ethan’s pupils constricted, and the muscles in his jawline tensed sharply.

But he quickly regained his composure, his voice not even wavering.

“You saw it.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

“Yes, I saw it,” I stared into his eyes. “Aren’t you going to explain?”

Ethan quirked his lips, a look of extremely perfunctory helplessness.

“That’s just a friend. The initial design draft of this dress was something I drew many years ago to help her achieve a stage dream. With the wedding approaching quickly, I just used that old draft. The words? The studio messed up, thinking it was the bride’s name. I’ve already had someone sent to remove it.”

“A friend?” I took a step closer to him. “A friend whose name you need to embroider on your fiancée’s wedding dress, closest to her heart?”

“Aurora!” He raised his voice, clearly losing patience. “I told you, the studio made a mistake! Do you have to be so petty about a trivial matter? The invitations have already been sent, the wedding venue booked. Are you trying to make us a laughingstock by pulling this stunt now?”

He was always like this.

Whenever I questioned him, he’d label me “unreasonable” or “petty.”

As if I was always the one at fault.

He sighed, pulled a velvet box from his pocket, and held it out to me.

“Alright, don’t be mad anymore. I passed an auction house today, and this necklace looked perfect for you, so I bought it. Consider it my apology.”

I didn’t take it.

The box was open.

Inside lay an incredibly luminous South Sea pearl necklace.

I looked at the pearls and said softly, “Ethan, I’m allergic to pearls; they make my neck break out in a rash. I’ve told you three times.”

Ethan’s hand froze mid-air.

A flicker of panic finally crossed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I… I’ve been so busy lately, I got it mixed up.”

“Got it mixed up?” I curled my lips. “Did you get it mixed up, or did you subconsciously think the person standing here should be Sera, the one who loves pearls?”

In every one of Sera’s photos, she wore pearls around her neck.

Ethan slammed the box shut, his face turning ashen.

“Aurora, you’re being utterly unreasonable!”

He turned and walked towards his study, slamming the door shut with a bang.

I stood in the empty living room, not shedding a single tear.

My heart had simply died.

When all the details came together, the truth was often uglier than imagined.