After losing my parents, a constant sense of insecurity clung to me like a shadow. But I also knew that rushing into marriage could affect Mathias’s career, so I had trod carefully, testing the waters with caution.
"If getting married is too complicated right now, could we at least get engaged first?"
Mathias had only sighed, rubbing his temples in exhaustion.
"Irene, I’m really tired right now. I don’t have time to deal with these trivial matters. Can you be understanding?"
"When I have time, I’ll make it up to you."
Back then, I never would have imagined that, despite his company being on the brink of going public, with assets under evaluation, Mathias could suddenly find so much time to ensure our engagement made headlines.
During a break in the photoshoot, I happened to glance at his phone.
The screen was flooded with missed calls and unread messages, all from an unmarked number.
A flicker of curiosity took hold. Without thinking, I quickly searched the number on social media.
An account appeared instantly.
The name left no room for doubt.
Nathalia.
I had meant to exit the screen. But in my panic, my finger slipped.
I clicked "Add."
She accepted the request instantly. And then, a message popped up.
[Do you believe me when I say I’ll make sure your engagement party never happens?]
The words echoed in my mind, lingering like a whisper of impending doom.
The missed calls on Mathias’s phone became more frequent, his screen lighting up relentlessly.
And every so often, when he thought no one was watching, I caught glimpses of something unsettling, a fleeting smirk, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
Then came the night before the engagement banquet.
Without warning, Nathalia stopped calling. The endless messages ceased.
Silence fell. And somehow, that silence felt far more ominous than her threats ever had.
As I walked past the study, the unmistakable sound of vases shattering in a fit of rage reached my ears.
When Mathias saw me, his expression shifted, quickly masking the fury that had been boiling just moments before. He casually kicked the broken pieces aside, attempting to cover up his outburst.
"Irene," he said, his tone forced, "tomorrow is our engagement banquet. I’m just… nervous."
He took a breath, trying to regain composure. "Go rest, I'll be in shortly."
That night, Nathalia's message haunted my thoughts.
[Do you believe me when I say I can ruin your engagement banquet?]