Chapter 1

Before I said "yes" to Ryan, I knew about Aubrey, his childhood sweetheart.

But they had cut ties completely, no turning back.

I was pregnant, feeling secure as I planned our wedding.

Then, Aubrey had an "accident" and lost her memory, reverting to the pure, innocent girl she was at sixteen.

Ryan told me to be understanding, to give way to someone who was "sick."

My jewelry, my makeup, my clothes, my bags—if she wanted them, they were hers.

Even our home, she could live in whenever she pleased.

On our wedding day, all our family and friends were there.

Aubrey burst in, wearing a wedding gown, her wrist bleeding. She pushed me down, screaming that this was her wedding, that Ryan had promised it to her.

Ryan, his face filled with anguish, swept Aubrey into his arms. "Alright, alright, we'll go to the hospital," he soothed her, "we can always do the wedding later."

Later? There was no later.

He didn't even notice me, lying on the ground. He didn't see the pool of blood spreading beneath my wedding dress.

...

That day, at the wedding, I gently touched my belly, forcing a strained smile.

If I hadn't been expecting our baby, I wouldn't have gone through with it.

Who could have predicted it?

That Aubrey Thompson, the childhood sweetheart Ryan swore he’d cut ties with, the one he promised was completely out of his life, would suddenly conveniently lose her memory.

She only remembered being sixteen, and Ryan swearing he’d marry her, just like yesterday.

In Ryan’s eyes, she was once again that pure, untainted white rose.

Just as our wedding reached its climax, Aubrey burst in, her white dress already stained crimson.

Blood streamed from her wrist, painting streaks down her gown. She gazed at Ryan with a vacant stare. "Ryan, you promised you'd only marry me. This is my wedding, isn't it?"

I wanted to vomit.

Amnesia, "delicate" health, constant suicide threats…

Only a fool would believe it.

And my husband, Ryan Miller, was that fool.

He was whispering soft reassurances, trying to press his hand to her bleeding wrist. Aubrey clung to him, whining, making him swear oaths and promises.

Standing there on the altar, a chilling dread seeped into my bones. My heart felt frozen solid, barely beating.

Below, whispers rippled through the crowd. It felt like a thousand eyes were stripping me bare, putting me on public display.

This was my wedding day.

A woman's most glorious, most important moment?

Ha!

Laughable.

What was even more laughable was Ryan finally wrapping his arms around Aubrey, then waving a dismissive hand at me without even looking back. "Avery, you saw what happened. I need to get her to the hospital, fast."

Of course he had to rush her to the hospital. Any later, and that shallow cut might actually start to heal on its own.

Aubrey looped her arms around Ryan's neck, giving me a smug, almost playful look. "Tell me, is this my wedding, or I'm not going anywhere."

Ryan's face softened with a doting smile. "Yes, yes, it's your wedding. All yours, darling."

I bit my lip, stepping forward to block his path. "Ryan, think clearly. You are the groom. This is our wedding. Are you really going to leave?"

Ryan hesitated for a split second. Then Aubrey suddenly erupted, shoving me with surprising force. "You wretched bitch, you homewrecker! Die!"

After pushing me, she crumpled with a soft whimper, collapsing into Ryan's arms.

Ryan scooped his "sick" sweetheart into his arms, tossing one last phrase over his shoulder: "I'm taking her to the hospital. We'll do the wedding later."

Later? There was no later.

Not for me.

I lay on the floor, clutching my stomach, watching the blood flow out from under me. My heart turned to ash.

"My baby, my baby…"

"My stomach… it hurts so much…"

After my groom fled, my wedding became a grotesque farce. Amidst my anguished cries, family and friends from both sides cursed Ryan, then rushed me to the hospital.

The ER doctor’s face changed instantly when he saw me. As they wheeled me into the operating room, he kept yelling for consultations— "miscarriage," "hemorrhage."

A critical condition notice came out, but there was no one legally authorized to sign it.

I clung to consciousness, repeatedly dialing Ryan’s number.

Friends and family who knew what happened were also calling him.

Not a single call went through. Just before I slipped away, a message from him popped up on my screen: "Avery, stop calling. Tell everyone else to stop too. You're upsetting her. Don't push me."

Her mood… her mood…

Ha. Our baby was gone. My life was hanging by a thread.

And he was worried about Aubrey's delicate feelings.

Let me die then.

My heart was already dead. I let the nurses and doctors do what they would. As I faded, I dimly heard the doctor’s enraged shouts: "Damn it, save her! I'll take responsibility!"