Chapter 3
The next morning, perhaps because of my attitude last night, Dorian seemed on edge.
For the first time in half a year, he made breakfast himself.
Looking at the cream soup on the table, I pushed it aside and quietly checked the visa application process.
Dorian’s phone kept buzzing with messages.
In a voice message, Lacey playfully greeted him good morning, teasingly complaining that he was too rough last night, leaving her waist sore and insisting he personally massage it to make it better.
Dorian didn’t glance at me, his eyes crinkling with a smile as he pressed the voice reply button. “Am I the one who doesn’t know how to be gentle, or is a certain little minx just
insatiable?”
“Last time, Mireya bought me some healing potion. I’ll bring it over for you.”
I looked up at him. His casual demeanor suggested this scene had likely played out
countless times over the years.
They bantered back and forth for a while. Only then did Dorian notice I hadn’t touched
my food.
“Don’t like it?”
I set down my spoon. “Here was something crawling in it. Lost my appetite.”
His hand, constantly replying to messages, paused for a few seconds, a flash of
irritation in his eyes.
“Why don’t you just starve yourself?”
Grumbling, he frowned and dumped the soup from my bowl into the trash.
Then he signed, asking if I wanted him to make me a sandwich instead.
I shook my head.
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As I passed the calendar, I noticed the date marked for trying on the wedding dress–a
week ago.
Before, I couldn’t understand what work could be more important than our wedding.
But after checking Lacey’s social media, I realized he had no time to join me for wedding
photos but plenty of time to go hiking, to the beach, and to hot springs with her.
Calmly, I tore that page off and tossed it into the trash.
Then I headed back to my room.
The sound of the paper hitting the bin seemed to snap him out of his thoughts.
He stared at the closed bedroom door, sensing something was different.
A nagging unease prompted him to follow me.
When he pushed the door open, I’d just finished a phone call.
He froze, watching me turn off the screen, standing there as if struck by lightning. “You
were on the phone?”
I gave him a faint, ambiguous smile.
When I didn’t respond, he repeated the question in sign language.
“It was a sales call.”
Hearing this, he craned his neck to check my phone, relaxing only when he saw the
notification labeling 143 contacts as “sales calls.”
He didn’t press further.
Smiling, he signed, “How about I go with you to try on the wedding dress today?”
At eighteen, Dorian had stood with me in front of a bridal shop window, dreaming aloud
that she’d be his most beautiful bride.
I was fifteen then–young, foolish, and full of dreams. I smiled and nodded, and from that day on, every birthday wish I made was to marry him.
Chapter 3
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Now, I nodded again–but not out of longing.
This would be the closure. A quiet farewell to the old Dorian, and the girl I used to be.
I would end this unfinished dream with my own hands.
