Waking From a Fleeting Dream With No One to Tell

On the wedding day, the bridesmaids smilingly asked Ian three questions.

Is Natalie's cat male or female? What's her favorite color? What's her shoe size?

Ian answered without hesitation: Female, pink, size six.

My best friend turned to look at me awkwardly; not one of his three answers was right.

To give him a pass, she just asked the easiest question she could.

"What birthday present did you give Bianca last year?"

"A diamond necklace I won at an auction house, worth three point eight million."

My best friend let out a sigh of relief, but when she turned around she saw how pale my face had gone.

From outside the door came the coquettish voice of his childhood sweetheart: "Ian, you've got it wrong. That diamond necklace was the one you gave to me."

"Look, I'm even wearing it today."

...

The noise outside the door went quiet for a moment, and then someone tried to smooth things over.

"Natalie, don't take it to heart. Ian's just been so busy with the wedding these past few days that his head's a mess, so he mixed it up."

"If you're really upset, shut the bedroom door tonight and set him straight. For now, don't throw a little fit."

"Yeah, yeah. After all these years, Ian's long been used to having only Bianca around him. Now that you've suddenly come along, of course he's not used to it."

"Hurry up and open the door, don't hold up the lucky hour."

My best friend was so angry she wanted to go out and argue with them, but I gently held her back.

I shook my head, signaling her not to act rashly.

"Never mind. Open the door."

The moment the door opened, Ian and the whole group of groomsmen appeared before me, and the petite figure in the pink gown among them stabbed painfully at my eyes.

Around her fair neck she was indeed wearing a dazzling diamond necklace, so radiant it almost made me cry.

On my birthday last year, Ian told me he was going abroad on a business trip and hadn't prepared any gift for me at all.

Back then he complained on the phone: "You're not a kid anymore. Why celebrate a birthday every year? Don't you get tired of it?"

"If you really want a gift that badly, I'll make it up to you later."

But later, he never did make up that birthday gift.

I thought he'd forgotten, but it turned out he'd given the gift to someone else.

He'd given it to his childhood sweetheart, Bianca Cobb.

As if sensing my displeasure, Bianca sidled up to me with put-on affection.

"There now, Natalie, from now on I'm handing Ian over to you. You have to take good care of him for me."

As she spoke, she came over and bumped into me on her own, then acted as if I had shoved her to the ground.

He'd used the same trick more times than anyone could count, and Ian fell for it every single time.

He immediately steadied Bianca and scolded me, "Natalie, what do you think you're doing? Bianca came to our wedding out of kindness. As the bride, can't you be a little more gracious?"

Bianca huddled in his arms, looking like the wronged party.

"Natalie, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you disliked me this much."

"If it's because of this necklace, I can give it to youconsider it my wedding gift to you both."

"I know that now that you're here, I can't be close to Ian the way I used to be."

"As long as you and Ian are happy, I'm fine with leaving, even."

With that, she blinked a couple of times and the tears fell right away.

Seeing her cry, the group of groomsmen who'd grown up with her and Ian instantly turned unhappy, every one of them stone-faced, looking at me like I was their enemy.

"That's not right of you, ma'am. Say what you want, but we came in good faith to support your wedding. If you don't want us, fine, but why shove someone?"

"Right. Because of you, Ian hasn't gone out to eat with his brothers in ages. Isn't that enough?"

"Enough already. You're just dating and you think you're some little princess? Aren't you just jealous that Bianca's more popular than you?"

"Exactly, and this is worth getting jealous over? If Bianca and Ian really felt that way about each other, it never would've come to you."

Everyone chimed in one after another, and a perfectly good wedding pickup turned into something messier than a farmers' market.

Across the two crowds, I watched Ian, still bent over comforting Bianca.

Bianca, in her pink gown, leaned against him, as if the two of them were the leads of the day.

I smiled and said flatly:

"You don't need to leave."

"This weddingI'm not going through with it."

At those words, the whole noisy scene fell silent in an instant.

Ian's face darkened at once, and the groomsmen realized they had gone a little too far, all of them pressing their lips shut and saying nothing.

I ignored their reactions and pushed straight through the crowd toward the front doors.

Before I could get far, Ian caught up from behind and grabbed my wrist.

He forced down his anger, his brows knit tight, his voice full of irritation. "Natalie, what are you making a scene for? All these people are watching. Are you treating our marriage like a joke?"

I wrenched my hand free, a ring of red already marking my wrist.

"Ian, who's really treating marriage like a joke, me or you?"

"My cat is a male, and you don't know that. My favorite color is blue, and you don't know that either. And you still don't know my shoe size."

He frowned even harder, impatient. "These are all little things. Who cares about details like that?"

I laughed. "Little things? Details? If it's really the way you say, then why can you remember every one of Bianca's?"

"Ian, do you realize that every one of your answers tells me the one you love isn't me, it's her?"

Ian took a deep breath. "I've told you, I only think of Bianca as a little sister."

"A little sister?"

I scoffed. "You give your little sister a necklace worth three point eight million, and then forget to get a birthday gift for your girlfriend?"

"Ian, being your girlfriend is really no fun at all."

Ian gritted his teeth, as if he'd hit the limit of his patience. "Natalie, don't stand here making a fuss. The guests are still waiting in the banquet hall."

"Yes, I admit it. Bianca and I grew up together as childhood friends, and I know her better than I know you. But that doesn't mean there has to be anything between us. Would you stop thinking such filthy things about everyone else?"

"And about the gift, I had no idea you were so materialistic. It's only a necklace, and it's worth this much fuss to you?"

"You didn't used to be like this."

When he finished, he looked at me with eyes full of disappointment, as if this time I were the one who had done something wrong.

I wanted to say more, but a familiar piece of music started up.

Ian froze. Forgetting we were still fighting, he instinctively pulled out his phone.

I knew this was the special ringtone he'd set for Bianca.

It was this ringtone that had called him away from my side on a night that was supposed to be a date for just the two of us.

It was this same ringtone that had made Ian and me fight one time after another.

And now it was this same ringtone again, going off in the middle of our worst fight yet.

Ian answered, and his expression changed in an instant.

"Okay, I understand. Wait for me, I'll be right back!"

"Forget the wedding, get Bianca to the hospital first! Worst case, we'll just hold the wedding another day."

After he hung up, he glared at me viciously.

"Are you satisfied now? Bianca got so upset because of you that she fainted."

"Since you clearly didn't mean to go through with it today, let's postpone our wedding."

"We'll talk about the wedding whenever you realize you were wrong and are willing to apologize to Bianca."

With that, he paid no attention at all to how I reacted. He turned and ran off toward the hall, as if he were certain I would bow my head and apologize the way I always had.

Except this time was different.

I gave a bitter laugh and dialed my parents' number.

"Hey, Mom, that arranged marriage alliance you asked me to consider last time, I've thought it through."

"Set up a meeting for us."

Back in the bridal suite, the whole room's wedding cheer stung my eyes until they ached.

Tonight should have been the sweetest moment for Ian and me, but instead I was spending it here, completely alone.

My phone kept buzzing in my bag. I pulled it out, and three messages from Ian sat on the screen.

"I was impulsive today, and my tone was bad."

"But you were in the wrong too. Today was our wedding day, of all days, and you had to make a scene at an occasion like this, leaving everyone with nowhere to hide."

"The guys are all laughing at me right now. If you really want this to work, go apologize to Bianca and smooth it over, so we can all get along from now on."

I stared at those lines, my fingertips going cold.

Think of the bigger picture? Even now, he was still telling me to let it go, convinced I was making a mountain out of a molehill and getting jealous over nothing.

I laughed out loud in anger, but my eyes burned scorching hot.

Just as I was about to type a reply, a contact request suddenly popped up at the top of the screen.

The profile picture was a cartoon cat in a pink dress, with the nickname Bianca.

The verification message was just one line: "Sis, here are a few keepsake photos from today for you."

I tapped accept.

Almost the next second, three photos came flying over.

The first showed Ian half-kneeling on the floor to put shoes on Bianca. The background was the wedding dressing room, and his profile looked unbearably tender.

The second showed Ian taking out the diamond ring he'd prepared to use at the wedding, almost reverently sliding it onto Bianca's finger.

The third was from the hospital corridor just now, Ian holding her hand while she looked up at him, smiling, his eyes full of worry.

Right after that, text messages jumped up one after another.

"Natalie, today was on purpose. I just didn't want Ian to marry you, so what?"

"If you know what's good for you, get lost on your own. Don't come between us brothers. Who do you think you even are?"

"These seven years were nothing but Ian taking pity on you."

I gripped my phone hard, my knuckles white, and strangely, the fire in my chest went cold instead.

I took a screenshot and forwarded it, along with those photos, all at once to Ian, wanting to see how he'd react.

The screen showed "typing" for a full five minutes, then went silent.

After a long moment, a call came through.

I answered. Ian's voice was tired, like he'd been weighing his words for a while.

"Nat, I saw all those messages. I honestly didn't know Bianca would say things like that."

"But I promise she didn't mean any harm, really. We've been friends since we were little, I know exactly what kind of person she is. I think she just can't accept that I'm getting married right now, got carried away, and said some things out of spite."

He paused, his tone turning careful, a little probing.

"Actually, I was thinking at the hospital today. Isn't it maybe a little too soon for us to get married right now?"

I held the phone, my voice absurdly calm.

"We've been in love for seven years. Is that too soon?"

"Ian, I'm giving you one last chance. If you insist on putting off the wedding for Bianca's sake, then we're done."

As if he'd seized on something, his voice suddenly rose, and he cut me off, impatient.

"It always comes back to the same thing, you just can't stand Bianca. Natalie, we're still young, what's the harm in waiting? Are you in such a rush to get married?"

"On top of that, you made that whole scene with my buddies at the wedding today. A marriage isn't just about the two of us. I have to think about my family and friends' feelings too, don't I?"

"We've already been together seven years. What's one more year going to matter?"

Suddenly a nurse's voice rose in the background on his end: "Where's the family for bed 3? Bianca Cobb's family, come sign some papers!"

"Coming!"

Ian answered her, then said to me, "Fine, we'll talk about this later. I'm hanging up now."

The dial tone sounded, and standing in the middle of that red-filled bridal suite, I finally gave up on this relationship for good.

With a swipe of my finger, I booked a plane ticket, and I looked around the room without a shred of attachment left.

For the past month, Ian probably thought he was the one giving me the cold shoulder.

He didn't text, didn't call, betting that I'd bow my head and cave the way I always had, crying and coming back to beg his forgiveness.

But he forgot that every time we fought in the past, I was the one who smoothed things overnot because I was wrong, but because I still cared.

And now I don't care anymore, so of course I won't bother with someone who means nothing to me.

Over these thirty days, I left the city where I'd lived for seven years, erased every trace of him, and kept busy coordinating with my family and the arranged marriage alliance partner to lock down a time to meet.

Bianca, on the other hand, was relentless. She switched between three burner accounts to message meflaunting the limited-edition bag Ian bought her, mocking me that tattling had gotten me nowhere, that Ian couldn't bring himself to say a single harsh word to her.

I ignored all of it. Even blocking her felt like it would dirty my hands. Every day I treated her like nothing more than a clown, like I'd taken in some virtual pet.

Maybe I really don't love him anymore. Reading the messages she sent about Ian, I felt not the slightest ripple inside, as if I were watching two strangers put on a show of affection.

Until today, sitting in this coffee shop, waiting for that Marcus, Mr. Joyner.

I wore a black halter dress, the one Ian used to hate on me most, full makeup, eyes winged up, red lips like a blade.

Then, from behind me, came a familiar voice.

"Ian, this place is so popular. I even had to pull strings just to get a VIP card to get in."

"I heard the big boss behind it is the Joyner Group."

It was Bianca. She'd actually come to this city too.

Ian's voice, soft with indulgence, cut through the noisy crowd and pierced clearly into my ears.

"All right, as long as you're happy."

"I'll play along with you for this last month, but you're not allowed to cause trouble at the wedding. Natalie's been with me for seven years. I owe her a proper title, at least."

"Last time you insisted I change all the answers to yours during the groom's wedding-day pickup, and now she still won't speak to mewon't reply to my messages, won't take my calls."

"And I still have to figure out how to smooth things over with her."

There was a genuine note of frustration in his tone, as if the matter truly troubled him.

The fingers gripping my coffee cup went still, my knuckles white.

Bianca gave a cold snort, her cup clinking against the porcelain saucer.

"She's the one who married you and still sent me an invitationshe's deliberately provoking me!"

"Why are you being so difficult?"

Ian sighed, his voice full of helplessness and fondness.

"You're the childhood sweetheart I watched grow up. How could you not want to come to my wedding?"

"I just don't want to watch you marry someone else!"

Bianca's voice climbed, her tone resentful.

"Bianca." Ian's voice dropped low, weary, giving in.

My heart clenched. So the whole farce at the wedding had been intentional all along.

Everything I'd taken for accidents, for oversights, for proof that he didn't love meall of it was just a game he'd played along with for her.

A faint sting went through my heart. I turned slightly, wanting to hear what else they had to say.

"Miss."

The waiter, carrying a tray, stopped right beside me, his voice bright and clear.

"This is the cake Mr. Joyner ordered for you. He called to say he'll arrive in twenty minutesthis is his apology for being late."

Behind me, the silence was instant.

After a long moment, a dry, flat voice finally came.

"Natalie, is that you?"

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, I picked up the iced Americano on the table, took an unhurried sip, and turned around.

Ian stood beside the neighboring booth, his suit crisp, still holding the strawberry cake he'd bought for Bianca.

On that face of his, always so composed, there was a rare flash of panicas if he'd been caught red-handed.