"You're about to be my wife, the closest person to me in the world. Of course I want to know everything about you," he had said.
But I forgot to mention something.
My phone was in his bag, connected via Bluetooth.
I thought he genuinely loved me and wanted to understand my past. Instead, he was plotting against me behind my back.
2
My fiancé, Webster Russell, was a prodigy at Astral University, and his romance with his first love was legendary, the campus's ideal couple.
They later broke up-one went abroad, the other stayed local.
My roommate back then was shipped with their relationship. When they split, she stayed up all night in our dorm, spinning a ten-thousand-word fanfic and crying her eyes out.
I was consumed by my experiments and never cared about such things until Webster suddenly pursued me with relentless intensity.
Austin Williams, my uncle, was unhappy about me being the heir to the Williams family and constantly made things difficult. I needed a marriage partner, and Webster fit the bill.
But over three years, I truly fell for him.
My mom and dad passed away early, and my relatives always eyed me with greed. No one had ever treated me with the gentle care Webster showed, like a ray of sunlight in winter.
I treasured him deeply.
But now, I wanted nothing to do with him.
3
"What are you thinking about?" Webster appeared beside me, stroking my hair affectionately.
I suppressed the nausea in my chest and looked up at him.
Anger and resentment clawed at my heart. I wanted to demand why he was doing this to me.
If he had been honest and admitted he couldn't let go of his first love, I would have canceled the wedding.
But he was toying with me like I was a fool.
Were my feelings worth so little?
What was I to him? What were these three years?
I opened my mouth, my voice hoarse and strained. "Webster, do you really want to marry me?
Of course. You're the girl I've always dreamed of marrying. Are you stressed out lately? Spending too much time in the lab? Get some rest, okay?" Webster coaxed me with gentle patience.
His eyes were so sincere and warm that I wondered if I had imagined everything.
I wanted to ask him what those words meant.
"So just now-"
Before I could finish, his phone rang, cutting me off. Webster answered, his face turning serious.
"Cindy, something came up at the company. I have to go. Take your meds, alright?"
Watching Webster's retreating figure, I saw him nearly trip in his haste, as if something urgent had come up.
I called his assistant.
"Everything's normal at the company. Mr. Russell hasn't been here," the assistant said.
After hanging up, I stood rooted to the spot for a long time until my phone pinged with a message.
It was a photo.
Webster, in a white shirt with sleeves rolled up, was gently feeding a woman on a hospital bed some porridge.
The woman was his first love, her delicate face pale.
So that was his urgent matter-taking care of his ex-girlfriend.
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