Chapter 2

The wedding venue instantly plunged into chaos. The guests' murmurs swirled around me like a thousand tiny needles, piercing through my skin, making my entire body ache. My parents rushed over, utterly confused about what had happened.

Ben Carter, Liam’s assistant, stood awkwardly to the side, his face flushed crimson.

“Chloe... Elara, her situation is... complicated. Dr. Davis saved her life last time she was critical. She only trusts Dr. Davis; only *he* can stabilize her. It’s a matter of life or death, Chloe. Dr. Davis had no choice, please don’t blame him...”

Ben had worked with Liam for two years and always called me ‘Chloe’ so warmly, showing me great respect. But now, he couldn’t even meet my eyes.

I didn’t know how much he had hidden for Liam, or what connection he had to that girl, Elara Vance. The pain in my chest spread like a suffocating web. I truly felt Liam’s betrayal.

My parents clutched my hands, their faces etched with panic.

“What in the world is going on? Didn’t he take leave for the wedding? What kind of patient needs rescuing *right this second*?”

Mr. and Mrs. Davis were frantically calling him, their voices laced with guilt. Mrs. Davis kept saying, “Chloe, don’t worry, honey. I’ll call that rotten boy right now and make him come back! If he doesn’t, I’ll break his legs myself!”

My fallen bouquet, trampled and scattered by hurried footsteps, mirrored the shattered pieces of my heart. I stood rooted to the spot, my wedding dress, its hem dragging on the floor, felt like a flower ravaged by a storm.

The wedding scene I’d dreamed of countless times had dissolved into this humiliating mess. The groom had abandoned his bride for another woman, leaving her utterly alone in a chapel brimming with blessings.

For four long hours, seventy-six calls—Liam answered none of them. I watched the phone screen dim and light up again and again, until it finally went black. Sunlight streamed through the hotel’s floor-to-ceiling windows, casting harsh glares on the floor, and landing on my empty ring finger with an icy, biting cold.

Guests gradually dispersed, leaving behind a chaotic mess of deflated balloons and half-eaten banquet dishes. Suddenly, the room spun violently. Everything swayed before my eyes, and the last sound I heard was my mother’s frantic cry.

When I opened my eyes again, the sterile scent of disinfectant stung my nostrils. The nurse, taking my blood pressure, said softly, “You’re in a delicate condition right now. You absolutely cannot endure any more stress; you need complete rest.”

I stared at the ceiling, tears silently tracked paths into my hairline.

From the moment I was nineteen, accepting the notebook Liam handed me in the university library,

to the handwritten letters he sent every week while he was away for his advanced medical training,

to the day he became a senior resident, holding my hand and promising, “I’ll save lives and heal the sick, and I will always protect you.”

Those six years flashed through my mind like a fast-forwarded movie.

I saw the barely concealed joy on my parents’ and Mr. and Mrs. Davis’s faces, and tears welled in my eyes. How was I supposed to tell them that this six-year relationship had to end?