Chapter 1

Five years into our marriage, we were finally about to have our delayed tenth wedding ceremony.

Just moments before exchanging our vows, my husband, Declan, received a text from his childhood best friend—she had just called off her wedding.

Without a second of hesitation, Declan declared, "Let's do the wedding another day. Sloane is having an emotional breakdown. I can't let her face it alone."

This was the tenth time he had canceled our wedding for the exact same woman.

And when our five-year-old son, Leo, suddenly spiked a high fever and threw up stomach acid on the floor, Declan simply dropped the line, "Leo, you're a big boy. Be strong," and walked away without a single backward glance.

He was entirely convinced that I would do what I had done the previous nine times: gracefully placate the guests on his behalf, take our sick child home, and wait for him.

But he forgot one crucial detail: no one stands in the exact same spot waiting forever.

......

"Imogen, Sloane is falling apart," Declan's voice was edged with urgency. "That bastard dumped her again the night before her wedding. She's alone on the hotel rooftop right now, saying she wants to jump. I have to go."

I didn't turn around, simply watching his reflection in the vanity mirror.

"This is our tenth wedding, Declan," I said. My voice was so eerily calm it didn't even sound like my own.

"I know! But what am I supposed to do? Stand by and watch her die?" Declan yanked at his bowtie in pure frustration. "You've always been so understanding, Imogen. A wedding is just a ceremony, and we're already a legal couple. Having it another day is exactly the same thing. But Sloane only has me."

I stared at him in silence.

Sloane. Always Sloane.

Declan's childhood sweetheart, the untouchable, unspoken "little sister" in his life who mattered more than anyone else.

Over the past five years, it only took one call from Sloane for Declan to abandon me when I had a severe fever, skip Leo's birthday, or dump our half-year-planned anniversary trip.

And today was supposed to be our tenth wedding.

Another day.

I had heard those two little words nine times over the past five years.

Sloane canceled nine weddings, and he stood right by her side, canceling ours nine times as well. His excuses were always wrapped in noble self-righteousness—"She struggles with depression," "I'm the only friend she has," "You're resilient, Imogen; she's not."

Before I could even open my mouth, a violent fit of coughing erupted from the corner of the room.

Five-year-old Leo, his little face burning red from fever, suddenly hunched over and threw up.

"Leo!" I grabbed the heavy layers of my wedding dress and rushed over.

"What's going on? Why is he throwing up out of nowhere?" Declan scowled, his brows tightly knitted.

"Mommy... it hurts so much..." Leo whimpered weakly.

I pressed a hand to his forehead; his temperature was frighteningly high. "Declan, Leo has a severe fever. We need to get him to the hospital right now!"

Tears welling in his eyes, Leo weakly reached out a tiny hand, trying to grasp his father. "Daddy, I don't feel good... Daddy, please don't go..."

Declan looked down at our son. A fleeting second of hesitation crossed his eyes. But right at that moment, his phone vibrated violently against his palm again. The name "Sloane" flashed on the screen.

In that instant, I saw the absolute, cold resolve settle into his gaze.

He didn't kneel down to stroke our son's head. He didn't bother asking if we needed a ride to the ER.

He just looked down and said, "Leo, you're a big boy now. Big boys don't cry over a little sickness. Dad has a very urgent emergency to take care of right now. Be good, listen to your mom, and be strong."

Leo's tears instantly froze in his eyes. He stared at Declan, pressing his little lips tightly together as he choked back a sob.

"You're a strong man, right?" Declan pushed.

Trembling, Leo nodded.

Declan let out a satisfied sigh of relief and turned to me. "It's normal for kids to run a fever. You handle the guests. I'll meet you guys at the hospital later."

With that, he didn't spare another glance for me or our son. He turned on his heel and strode out the door.

I could hear the hurried thud of his footsteps fading down the hallway, followed by the sickeningly gentle tone he used when taking the call: "Sloane, I'm on my way. Please don't do anything stupid..."

Kneeling on the floor with my burning child in my arms, I looked at the vomit staining my pristine wedding dress, thought about the hall packed with waiting guests, and suddenly... I let out a laugh.

I thought I would completely break down. I thought I would charge out there, grab his collar, and scream at him. But strangely, I didn't.

I just didn't want to fight for him anymore.

Five years. For five whole years, I had behaved like a beggar in this marriage, pleading for scraps of his attention. I used to believe that one day he would wake up and realize that Leo and I were his true home.

But he was entirely convinced I could never leave him. He was certain that no matter how deeply he hurt me, if he just looked back, I'd still be right there in the exact same spot, waiting.

At that moment, the string inside my heart—stretched blindly to its limit for five years—finally snapped.

"Mommy, don't cry." Leo reached up with a fever-hot hand to touch my cheek. "I'm a big boy. I'm not crying anymore. Daddy said big boys don't cry."

My heart felt like it was being ground through a meat grinder. But I held my tears back and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Leo, you don't need to be his 'big boy'," I whispered softly. "You just need to be yourself."

I stood up, walked straight out into the banquet hall, and looked down from the stage at the sea of stunned, bewildered faces.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for taking the time out of your busy schedules to attend this absolute farce. It is with deep regret that I inform you all... the wedding is canceled."