“She’s afraid of losing you, that’s why she’s saying all this…”
The more she cried, the more it looked like she was defending me, yet every word pushed me deeper toward the edge.
I didn’t even give her a glance.
Because five minutes ago, the person I was waiting for sent me a message: “I’m here.”
While the two of them were still putting on a performance, I turned and walked away in the chaos, my steps clean and decisive.
Outside the wedding hall, the sunlight was perfect.
A black Maybach was parked at the end of the red carpet, and a man leaned casually against its side, hands in his pockets.
When he saw me run out, he lifted his gaze. The corner of his lips curved slowly.
That smile was gentler than the spring breeze, yet sharper than a blade.
“Let’s go.”
He reached his hand toward me, his voice steady and warm.
“I’m taking you home as my wife.”
