Chapter 18

books, and you would build the shelves.”

His throat moved.

“Why bring that up now?”

“Because I truly wanted to marry you then.”

At last, my tears fell.

“I wanted to buy a home with you. Pay the mortgage with you. Shop for groceries at weekends, curl up on the sofa and watch films at night. I imagined us growing old and still arguing over which was better value for a few extra coins. The man I saw then was you. Not Xu Cheng’an.”

He fell silent.

I wiped my tears.

“Choosing September seventeenth was selfish. I thought that if I held a wedding here, I could finally let go of the past. I should have told you everything from the beginning. Then you could have been angry, refused to marry me—whatever you chose. That choice should have been yours.”

His voice was hoarse.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was afraid.” I looked at him. “Afraid you’d think I hadn’t let Cheng’an go. More afraid that you would leave me too.”

His eyes reddened.

“So I deserved to be deceived?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I was wrong.”

He suddenly caught my wrist, gripping hard.

“If you know that, we can start again. Another date. Another venue. I won’t hold any of it against you.”

I didn’t struggle. I only looked at him.

“But Shiye… I don’t want to marry you anymore.”

His fingers tightened.

“Why? I’ve agreed to change everything. What else am I supposed to do?”

I looked down at his hand around my wrist.

That hand had held mine along so many roads. I once thought that if he held on, I would never have to fear separation again.

Now he stood right in front of me, and all I wanted was my hand back.

“Do you remember our appointment to look at the decorations eight months ago?”

He frowned.

“What’s the point of bringing that up?”

“You didn’t come.”

“Yingqiao was injured.”

“I know. I never blamed you for taking her to the hospital.”

I met his eyes.

“What hurt was that you didn’t even apologize. Later, when I discussed the wedding, you said I had too much time on my hands. When I wanted an honest conversation, you called me sensitive. Whenever I was unhappy, the first thing you said was that you wouldn’t marry me.”

His lips moved, but no words came.

“I was so afraid. Every threat made me apologize first. Later, I became afraid to tell you the truth at all. Afraid of annoying you. Of making you angry. Of saying one wrong word and being unwanted.”

I smiled bitterly.

“For eight months, I’ve told everyone we were happy. Even Mom. I still messaged you, still laid out your clothes. But sometimes, when I heard your key in the lock, the first thing I felt was dread.”

His grip slowly loosened.

I gently drew my wrist away.