The first person I saw after coming back from studying abroad was Miley, Dario's precious little darling.

"I know you're Dario's first love, but he's with me now," she declared confidently. "So, leave him."

She was clearly prepared for this. Before I could even respond, she waved her phone at me. "Let's make a bet. We both message him at the same time. If he replies to me first, you walk away."

I agreed without hesitation.

After all, Dario and I had been together for five years—everyone knew how much he loved me.

When he found out I was finally coming home, he was so excited he couldn't sleep for days, and he even wanted to fly overseas to pick me up himself.

I sent him a message, "I was in a car accident."

Miley, putting on a sweet, delicate voice, sent a voice message, "Dario, my stomach feels a little off."

She looked so sure of herself, like she'd already won.

Strangely, I started to feel nervous. Every second felt unbearably long.

Suddenly, Miley's phone rang. She flashed it at me triumphantly—Dario's name lit up the screen.

My heart clenched, and my hands began to shake.

"Miley, are you okay? I'm heading back right now." Dario's anxious voice came through the speaker, shattering what was left of my hope.

Miley beamed and put it on speaker. "I'm fine, Dario. I just need a little rest. You should go back to your work—it's more important."

Dario went silent for a moment.

Then my phone buzzed with a message from him.

"Edith, I'm in a meeting and can't leave. Call your insurance."

At the same time, his firm voice rang out from Miley's phone.

"No, I'm coming back now. Nothing matters more than you."

I couldn't hear a word they said after that. My mind went completely blank.

I didn't snap out of it until I felt the sharp sting of my nails biting into my skin.

"Dario loves me," Miley said as she hung up, her tone dripping with pride. "You won't be able to ruin what we have, so don't even bother trying."

A sharp pain twisted in my chest. All I could think about was running away from this humiliating scene as fast as I could.

I stumbled away, completely flustered—even I thought I looked pathetic.

Miley watched me like a victor, her eyes full of contempt and mockery. "Edith, don't embarrass yourself. As long as I'm here, Dario won't even look at you again."

By the time I'd pulled myself together and made it home, night had already fallen.

Dario hadn't messaged me again—not even once.

When I opened the door, I saw him massaging Miley's legs.

He wore a gentle smile, his gaze brimming with unmistakable adoration.

The second he saw me, he jumped to his feet, panic flashing across his face, and rushed over to me.

"Edith, you're back!" He glanced away guiltily. "I was just too busy today. I didn't get the chance to pick you up."

If this had happened before, I would've thrown a fit and forced him to explain exactly what was going on between him and Miley.

But now, I just forced a smile and answered quietly, "Yeah."

I spent the whole afternoon in a daze, trying to accept that he had betrayed everything we'd built together.

Seeing the man I'd poured all my love into, I felt nothing but disgust for the lies he told.

This trip back was only meant to pack up the things I'd left behind.

"This is Miley, my... friend." Dario hesitated, but still took my hand and introduced Miley.

Miley froze. Her face drained of color.

She bit her lip, eyes shimmering with tears as she forced a smile. "Welcome home, Edith."

All the arrogance and smugness from earlier were gone.

Dario's grip on my hand tightened. He clearly felt sorry for her.

I had no interest in playing along with this melodrama. I made up some excuse and went to the bedroom to pack.

But when I opened the door, I was stunned by how different it looked.

Dario followed me in, looking nervous. "Edith, Miley's been staying here."

Looking at the man in front of me, I couldn't help but feel the sharp ache in my heart.

I had picked out this house myself.

The design of this room was born from countless sleepless nights, sketching and revising until it was perfect.

When the renovations were finally done, Dario had scooped me up in his arms, doting as ever. "So my darling designed our very own wedding suite?"

Blushing, I'd swatted at him, burying my face in his chest as I teased, "Then you have to promise me—no one else is ever allowed to stay in this room!"

Dario had cupped my face, laughing as he teased, "And what if someone else does?"

I'd wrapped my arms around his waist, pouting, "Then I'll leave you and you'll have to live alone for the rest of your life!"

Those memories cut deep, every recollection a fresh wound.

Miley came up, clinging to Dario's arm, looking on the verge of tears.

"Edith, don't blame Dario. I was the one who thought this room was beautiful and insisted on staying here. If you want to blame someone, blame me!"

Her face was pale, her body swaying as if she might faint. Dario, full of concern, wrapped his arm around her waist, completely forgetting I was even there.

I hadn't said a word, but he shot me a look, his tone full of reproach.

"It's just a room, Edith. Why are you making a fuss with Miley over it and upsetting her?"

I almost laughed at the absurdity, but steadied myself, nodded calmly, and turned to leave.

Maybe it was because I wasn't making a scene like I used to that Dario sensed something was off. He caught my hand, his voice softening.

"Edith, just stay in the guest room tonight, okay? I'll have the housekeeper clean and redecorate it tomorrow."

He didn't say a word about having Miley move out of my room.

I nodded and headed straight for the guest room without hesitation.

Dario followed me down the hallway, and Miley's syrupy voice floated after us. "Dario, are you going to sleep with Edith tonight?"

Her eyes shimmered with tears. "But I'll be scared if I'm alone."

Dario stopped in his tracks, torn, looking back at me with a conflicted expression.

Hand on the doorknob, I glanced over my shoulder, a faint smile on my lips and calm in my eyes.

"So, you two usually sleep together?"

Dario's face changed instantly. He didn't dare hesitate any longer; after gently coaxing Miley back to her room, he slipped into the guest room with me.

I shut the door in Miley's resentful glare.

Honestly, I did it just to spite her.

"Edith, I missed you so much," Dario said, gazing at me with longing, reaching out to pull me into his arms.

Once, that would have made my heart race. I would have thrown myself into his embrace, pouring out all the longing and loneliness I'd felt overseas.

But now, all I saw was how false and disgusting this man had become.

I dodged his hand, feigning exhaustion, and lay down on the bed.

Dario lay down beside me, guilt written all over his face, and tried to explain. "Edith, I was so busy today. Did you get everything sorted out after the accident?"

I mumbled a reply.

He kept digging himself deeper. "I only see Miley as a little sister. She's just a sensitive girl, so I try to take care of her a bit more. Don't get the wrong idea."

His words were earnest, his tone soothing, as he pulled me into his arms like nothing was wrong.

Suddenly, I remembered that night three years ago.

When I heard he'd found a stand-in for me, I'd lost it—deleted every way he could contact me, convinced it was over.

He'd flown for over 20 hours to appear at my door, looking utterly wrecked.

The moment he saw me, his eyes went red. He hugged me, apologizing again and again, swearing that he just felt sorry for Miley, that he only ever saw her as a sister.

He said he couldn't bear to see a girl who looked so much like me suffer.

That night, he knelt and begged for my forgiveness.

And I believed him.

Even when rumors kept swirling after that, I always had the same answer—I trust Dario.

But this afternoon, Miley's confidence had come from somewhere real.

Beyond that phone call, she'd even shown me an ultrasound.

She was carrying his child.

I turned to look at Dario.

His face was earnest, not a crack in his expression.

Suddenly, I didn't want to keep up the act anymore. I looked him straight in the eyes, my smile flat.

"Is that so? Then what about the baby she's carrying?"

Dario's face went rigid in an instant.

He realized right away that I truly knew the truth—I wasn't just bluffing.

His eyes reddened immediately.

He told me it was an accident.

"I was drunk that night. I only mistook Miley for you because I'd had too much to drink."

What a ridiculous excuse, but I just couldn't be bothered to argue.

"Edith, I promise I'll take care of things with Miley and the baby. Please, trust me."

Dario grabbed my hand, desperate to reassure me.

I nodded, saying nothing at all.

Dario hesitated, "Are you still mad at me? I—"

Before he could finish, the door swung open.

Miley stood there, tears streaking her cheeks, wearing nothing but a flimsy nightgown, one hand pressed to her stomach. "Dario, I just had a nightmare. My stomach hurts a little, too."

She looked at Dario with those big, tearful eyes, "Will you stay with me?"

Dario let go of my hand immediately.

He gently wiped away Miley's tears, then glanced back at me, his voice rushed, "Edith, get some rest. Miley's not feeling well—I can't leave her alone."

He carefully supported Miley by the waist, not a hint of hesitation, and guided her out of the room.

I gave a bitter, self-mocking smile.

Oh, Dario.

There won't be a second time I forgive you.

By the time I finished packing all my things, Dario and Miley were still curled up together, fast asleep.

I didn't spare them another glance. I went straight home to my parents' house.

Mom, Dad, and my sister Sierra Paxton were all sitting in the living room.

The moment Mom and Sierra saw me, their eyes filled with tears. They kept saying how hard things must've been for me overseas, how much weight I'd lost.

Dad was overjoyed, too. He immediately decided we'd go out for a proper family dinner that night to welcome me home.

I hadn't slept well the night before, so I took a long, peaceful nap. When I woke up and came out, I found Mom, Dad, and Sierra still in the living room, their faces unusually serious.

I paused when I spotted the invitation on the table. It took me a couple of seconds to realize what it was.

The arranged marriage with the Tavin family—its time had finally come.

For a family like ours, a business marriage was nothing out of the ordinary.

The Tavins had deep roots, and their business interests complemented ours perfectly.

But because Dario and I were in love, my parents had never considered marrying me off to the Tavins.

Sierra loved me dearly. From the start, she'd always assumed she'd be the one to shoulder the responsibility of a marriage alliance, never pressuring me about it.

My thoughts drifted until my phone suddenly rang.

It was Dario. "Edith, where did you go?"

"I'm at my parents' house."

I answered calmly.

Maybe feeling guilty, Dario immediately tried to coax me, saying he'd come pick me up and spend some time together, and visit my parents while he was at it.

Before I could refuse, he hung up.

But a second later, he sent a text.

"Edith, Miley's suddenly not feeling well. I don't want to leave her home alone. I'll have to skip today."

I'd barely been home two days, and Miley was already running through a lifetime's worth of illnesses.

I forced a smile, ignoring the dull, grinding pain in my heart, and looked up at my parents.

"Mom, Dad, I'll marry into the Tavin family."

I told my parents everything about Dario and Miley.

Their faces turned dark with anger. Dad slammed his hand on the table. "This is outrageous! Do they think they can make a fool out of the Paxton family?"

But I felt strangely calm, and even found myself comforting them.

"Let me go through with the marriage to the Tavin family. I'm willing," I said, my voice steady and resolute.

My parents tried to argue, but in the end, they nodded and agreed. They sent a message to the Tavin family, making the arrangement official.

The union of the Tavin and Paxton families was a major event in the business world.

News of our engagement spread quickly throughout New York City, plastered across billboards and social media.

Alden Tavin texted me on WhatsApp. After introducing himself as my fiancé, he politely asked if I had any requests or needs—he would do his best to fulfill them.

I looked at his photo—a refined, well-mannered gentleman. Spending a lifetime in a respectful partnership with someone like him didn't sound so bad.

Once the decision was made, I threw myself into wedding preparations.

Alden sent me the address of a bridal shop, saying he'd arranged for several custom gowns for me to choose from.

When I arrived, an attendant greeted me at the door and led me to a private VIP fitting room.

I had to admit—he had excellent taste.

Standing before the mirror in a wedding dress, I looked radiant.

Suddenly, I thought of Dario.

I'd imagined this scene a thousand times—me in a wedding gown, marrying him.

Now, the memory felt filthy, something that clung to me and made me sick to my stomach.

Just as I was about to say yes to the dress, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Wow, Dario, this wedding dress is gorgeous!"

Miley clung to Dario's arm, her face glowing with happiness as she pointed at the dress I was wearing.

The moment she saw my face, her expression twisted with shock and jealousy.

He froze, then quickly let go of her hand and hurried over to me, clearly nervous. "Edith."

He rushed to explain, "Miley wanted to look at wedding dresses, so I brought her here. That's all."

Maybe worried I'd get the wrong idea, he added, "There's nothing going on—we're just looking."

Miley glared at me with pure resentment.

I ignored her, nodding coolly.

Dario looked at me in awe. "Edith, you look beautiful."

A wave of nausea rose inside me. I turned away, focusing on my reflection in the mirror.

Suddenly, he seemed to realize something. "What are you doing here?"

I adjusted the necklace around my neck, replying offhandedly, "The Tavin and Paxton families are joining through marriage. Didn't you know?"

Dario blinked, then nodded. "It's Sierra's wedding, right? You're here to help her pick out a dress?"

My fingers paused. I glanced at Dario, a hint of mockery in my eyes.

I wanted to ask why he was so sure, but the words died in my throat.

There was nothing left between Dario and me.

No reason to waste another word.

When I didn't answer, he lowered his voice, trying to coax me gently. "Edith, I know I haven't been around much these past few days. Once Miley's feeling better, I'll make it up to you, I promise."

He swore, "Don't worry, when Sierra gets married, I'll make sure to prepare a generous gift."

I turned to look at him, suddenly finding the whole thing absurd.

A small, cold smile tugged at my lips.

"All right. I'll be waiting for your gift."