At twenty-one, Annabelle Linton was breathtakingly beautiful in her wedding dress.

The priest asked, "Bride, Annabelle Linton, do you take Mr. Leona Grant to be your husband, to have and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish him, forsaking all others?"

Annabelle Linton smiled, full of hope. "I do."

The priest then asked, "Groom, Mr. Leona Grant, do you take..."

"Where’s the ring?" he interrupted the priest, his face devoid of expression.

An awkward silence fell over the hall. The color drained from Annabelle Linton’s face, then flushed red.

Then, under everyone’s gaze, he roughly grabbed her hand, shoved the ring on her finger, and turned to walk away.

He left Annabelle Linton standing there in humiliation, her face burning with shame.

At twenty-two, Annabelle Linton had cooked a table full of dishes, waiting for him to come home for dinner.

He walked in, his face cold.

"You’re back. Come and eat, the food’s getting cold..."

"Get out!" He spun around abruptly. "Did you go crying to Grandpa? Telling him I was neglecting you, and getting him so angry he ended up in the hospital?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Still playing dumb?" He violently swept the dishes off the table. Soups and sauces splattered all over her. "I don’t want to see you. Get out!"

Before Annabelle Linton could even process what was happening, he shoved her out the door.

This year...

Her face was ice-cold. "Leona Grant, I hate you. I despise you. I’m sick of you. Get the hell out of my life, understand?"

"Let’s get a divorce. It’s what you’ve always dreamed of."

"We’re already divorced. I have nothing to do with you."

"Right. You’re just being a desperate, crazy stalker. So I’m begging you, please, just get as far away from me as possible, okay?"

"Alright, my husband is waiting for me. I’m hanging up now. I hate clingy men..."

’My husband... I hate clingy men...’

Flashes of the past played out before Leona Grant’s eyes. In the end, he could only manage a weak, helpless smile.

He finally understood what it meant to reap what you sow.

’Am I dying?’

’It’s better this way.’

’If I’m dead, I won’t be able to bother her anymore. If I’m dead, I can watch over her from heaven...’

The heavy rain washed away his blood. The corners of Leona Grant’s mouth curled up slightly before he slowly closed his eyes.

Goodbye, world.

Goodbye, Annabelle.

...

「The afternoon of the day after the engagement, it was time for Annabelle Linton and Aaron Wyatt to go abroad.」

Annabelle Linton sat in the VIP lounge. The plane was scheduled to take off in half an hour.

She was flipping through an English-language magazine. After a little while, she closed it, her expression blank, and reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

She felt tired, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. It was just an indescribable exhaustion.

When Aaron Wyatt walked over with two paper cups of coffee, he saw her weary expression.

His Annabelle. It pained him to see her even frown.

He approached her and handed her a coffee. "Here, drink this. You look exhausted. Didn’t you sleep well last night?"

Annabelle Linton heard his voice and looked up, accepting the coffee. She then gave him a small smile and said lightly, "A little. I think I drank too much last night."

Many people had proposed toasts at the engagement ceremony, and Annabelle Linton had drunk quite a bit yesterday.

For some reason, she hadn’t refused a single drink, as if she’d been trying to get herself drunk...

Aaron Wyatt gazed at her for a moment, then laced his fingers with hers. The rings on their hands were a perfect match.

He gently pulled her into a hug and said softly, "Annabelle, we’re going to be happy."

His voice, his tone, everything about it was the epitome of gentleness.