I saw Nathan Reed again at my best friend Amy’s wedding. The man who had vanished five years ago. He was the groom, and I was a bridesmaid. Amy practically bounced over, her face alight, eager to tell me their love story. “You know, he was in that car accident, and I was the one who saved him,” she whispered conspiratorially, though her voice still carried. “I heard he had a fiancée back then, but I spirited him out of the country overnight for treatment.” She nudged me with her elbow, a wide, triumphant grin stretching across her face. “Pretty brilliant move, right, girl?” 1 Amy was still giddily rattling on about something, but I couldn’t make out a single word. My ears were filled with a piercing, unbearable buzz. Five years. Nearly two thousand days and nights. The man I loved most in this world had been hidden away for five long years by my best friend. I bent over, gasping for air, my body trembling uncontrollably. Amy, noticing my ashen face, quickly ushered me into the dressing room. She hovered, her voice laced with cautious concern. “Elara, what’s wrong? Is it your depression acting up again?” For the past five years, I’d scoured countless places, questioned endless strangers, plastered missing person posters, and even bought trending searches, all in a desperate bid to find Nathan. Even his own family had given up, but I stubbornly pressed on. In countless dark nights, I’d stood by the roadside, contemplating an end to this despair that threatened to swallow me whole. Now, it all felt like a cruel, elaborate joke. I gazed at the countless scars, a roadmap of jagged lines and healed skin, etched into my right wrist. My eyes burned, and my heart felt as if it were being ripped apart, piece by agonizing piece. Amy sighed, a weary note in her voice. “Are you thinking about your fiancé again? Stop looking, Elara. It’s been so long. He’s probably… he’s probably gone.” Then, as if an idea had just sparked, she brightened. “Tell you what, I’ll set you up with one of Nathan’s good friends sometime. I’ll throw a party.” The words were still hanging in the air when Nathan walked in. He was clad in a sharp black suit, his silhouette tall and impeccably tailored, exactly as I remembered him five years ago. Our eyes met across the room. He merely gave me a flat, indifferent glance before stepping toward Amy to adjust her wedding dress. Behind him followed his groomsmen, familiar faces, most of whom I’d known for years. Their eyes, when they met mine, were filled with unspoken words, a flicker of something close to pity. A moment ago, I might have tried to comfort myself, to rationalize that perhaps he’d lost his memory and that’s why he didn’t recognize me. But the expressions on his friends’ faces told a different story. They were telling me he hadn’t forgotten. He remembered everything. He just didn’t love me anymore. Amy beamed, looping her arm through Nathan’s. “Honey, tell your friends to stick around tonight, okay? We’re going to have a blast!” She shot me a conspiratorial wink. Nathan simply nodded, a casual gesture, without sparing me another glance. It was as if we’d never met, never shared a moment, never been anything to each other. Slowly, I closed my eyes, my heart seized in a vice-like grip, then brutally torn out and cast into a raging inferno. Never had I felt such profound agony. I desperately needed an outlet, a way to release the frantic, clawing despair within me. I stumbled to my feet and rushed into the restroom, slamming my forehead against the wall. A dull thud echoed in the small space, and instantly, warm blood bloomed across my skin. My body swayed precariously, my vision blurring at the edges. I barely managed to slide down the wall, sinking to the floor, a searing pain drilling through my very core. Again and again, I rammed the back of my head against the cold tile, as if only this self-inflicted torment could bring a fleeting moment of relief. It hurt. God, it truly hurt. I curled into a ball, a dizzying wave of exquisite pain washing over my chest. Then, a hollow, mirthless laugh escaped my lips. “Nathan,” I whispered into the silence, “you really don’t want me anymore…” 2 When I finally emerged from the restroom, the wedding ceremony was already underway. Amy, understanding my fragile state, had found someone else to step in as bridesmaid. I stood at the very back, watching Amy on stage, her face radiant with a sweet smile as she uttered, “I do.” Nathan knelt, a solemn gesture, and slipped a ring onto her left hand. A sharp pang of jealousy, cold and venomous, pierced through me. I wanted to rush forward, to tear them apart, to shout at Amy, demanding to know why she’d stolen my fiancé, why she’d hidden him away for five years, why she’d left me searching in a bottomless void. And I yearned to scream at Nathan, to ask why he pretended not to know me, why he hadn’t come back to me, why everyone had kept the truth hidden. I wanted to smash that wedding to pieces. But I didn’t. I merely sat in the corner, and when they finished their vows, I was the first to clap. My hands came together with a fierce, resounding clap that echoed through the hall, drawing curious glances from those around me. I paid them no mind. But as Nathan’s gaze drifted in my direction, I met it head-on. Our eyes locked. My nose stung, and the tears I’d been desperately holding back immediately spilled over. Nathan’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly, then he calmly averted his gaze, his deep, dark eyes devoid of any emotion. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms. I truly believed I was losing my mind. I fumbled for my phone and typed a message, sending it to him: Nathan, I refuse to wish you a happy wedding. I curse you. I curse you to a lifetime of never getting what you truly desire. The next second, I scoffed at my own foolishness. The woman he loved had already married him. My curse was utterly powerless. I didn’t wait for the reception to end. I fled the venue and went straight home. I knew if I stayed a moment longer, I’d completely unravel. Three years ago, when all news of Nathan had abruptly ceased again, I’d tried to end it all. Tragically, I’d failed. My neighbor had found me and rushed me to the hospital. When I awoke, Mrs. Reed, Nathan’s mother, had clutched my hand, her eyes swimming with tears, begging me to live, to live for him. But a world without Nathan felt impossibly bitter. We’d met when we were six, started dating in high school, and just after college graduation, we’d picked a date to get our marriage license. But he’d been in a car accident on his way to meet me, and then he simply vanished. I’d gone to the police station countless times, questioned every stranger at the accident site, but to no avail. No one had seen him. Now he was back, but he no longer loved me. 3 I drifted into a fitful sleep, only to wake and check my phone. There were missed calls from Amy, soothing texts from Mrs. Reed, and then one stark, chilling reply from Nathan. It was just one cold, hard word: Get lost. A bitter laugh escaped me. My self-proclaimed devotion, my agonizing search, was nothing more than a pathetic joke in his eyes. I retreated entirely into myself, plagued by sleepless nights. My hair began to fall out in clumps, and I didn’t leave the apartment for ten days, rapidly wasting away. My already slender frame seemed to consist of nothing but bone. Then, Amy, unable to reach me by phone, showed up at my door. Nathan was right behind her. I hadn’t showered in ten days, and a faint, stale odor clung to me. But Amy didn’t seem to notice. She rushed forward and wrapped me in a tight hug, then practically dragged me towards the hospital. I knew what she was afraid of. My expression was detached as I gently pulled away from her, my voice polite but distant. “I’m fine, thank you.” I didn’t know how to face Amy. Should I resent her, or wish her well? I thought, I couldn’t do either, so instinctively, I just wanted to be away from her. She didn’t seem bothered by my sudden aloofness, simply attributing it to my mood. Amy let out a heavy sigh of relief. “Elara, can you please answer your phone? Did you buy it just to display it? Do you know how worried I’ve been?” Her voice brightened. “Starting today, my husband and I are moving in with you. We’ll take care of you until you’re better.” She shook her head playfully, a determined glint in her eye. “No objections! Nuh-uh, no backsies!” Her expression was earnest, her tone firm. She was bright, outgoing, and kind-hearted, the kind of person it was hard not to love. So, I supposed, it was no wonder Nathan had fallen for her. I looked at the figure standing behind her. His eyes were cold, a pair of dark, narrowed slits, as if he were looking at a complete stranger. Even though he was as distant as ice, miles away from me, I still craved a flicker of his warmth. Even if it wasn’t meant for me. Just to see him for one more day, one more minute, even one more second. I didn’t know if it was my inability to resist Amy’s overwhelming concern, or perhaps my own selfish desire, but I let them move in. This apartment, once, was supposed to be Nathan’s and my marital home, our dream space. After he vanished, I’d decorated it exactly to his tastes. Every piece of furniture, every placement, echoed his style. Amy’s eyes widened as she took in the space. “Whoa, Elara, your taste is… certainly unique! Why is everything so dark and dreary? So much black and gray, no color at all!” Because the light had gone out of my world. I spoke softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because my fiancé liked it this way. So, I decorated it according to his preferences.” 4 “Well, you should have some opinions of your own!” Amy huffed, clearly displeased. “Why go along with everything he wants? My husband, he lets me pick all the decor. Our place is so cozy! And I make him sleep on pink sheets every day!” I lowered my gaze, a hazy memory surfacing. When we’d first moved in together, I’d loved pink too. Pink sheets, pink mugs, pink toothbrushes, pink bowls. I’d even bought him pink underwear, but he’d never once worn it. As for the sheets, he’d rather sleep on the couch than in the bed. Eventually, I’d given up and changed the color, and only then did he return to sleeping in the bed. A moment of stiff silence passed before I asked, almost masochistically, “Is that so? Would he sleep on the couch if you made him?” Amy scoffed, shooting a sideways glance at Nathan. “He wouldn’t dare!” She grinned. “He even wears pink underwear now.” Nathan’s expression flashed with a hint of embarrassment. He lightly patted her head, trying to silence her. “What’s wrong with pink sheets?” Amy continued, unfazed. “If your fiancé would sleep on the couch just because of that, it only proves he doesn’t love you enough. And after all those years you spent looking for him? What a jerk!” After a long silence, I found myself agreeing with her words. “You’re right,” I murmured. “Maybe he truly didn’t love me enough.” As I spoke those words, I distinctly felt Nathan’s gaze linger on me for a fleeting moment. His voice, when it came, was thin and cold. “If that’s the case, Miss James, you should know when to step aside. Don’t disturb other people’s lives. If possible, it’s best if you disappear from his sight entirely.” He leaned forward slightly, his words like daggers. “Self-pitying delusion only breeds disgust in others.” Nathan’s words were raw, ugly, and merciless. Self-pitying delusion. So that’s what he thought. All my desperate longing, all my agonizing years, were just a pathetic, self-indulgent fantasy. My eyes immediately filled with tears, my voice trembling. “You understand him so well… is it because you’re both the same kind of person?” I choked out, a wave of bitter anger rising. “Someone who likes to vanish, who likes to make others wait, then drain all their hope without so much as an apology? And then to turn around and call them ‘self-pitying’? I just wanted an explanation! Does my five years just… just vanish into thin air?” At my words, Nathan’s brows furrowed, and a flicker of anger ignited in his own eyes. “No one forced you to wait, Elara. Love and hate are voluntary. Since you chose to wait, shouldn’t you bear the consequences alone?” His voice rose, laced with sharp contempt. “Or do you think because you waited five years, I owe you eternal gratitude and should marry you?”
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "392765", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel