At my betrothal celebration, Denver's companions inquired about his most exhilarating experience. Some speculated it was his proposal to me, involving ten thousand roses on Mount Everest. Others playfully suggested it might have been our first intimate night together.
Feeling uncomfortable with their jesting and concerned about Denver's potential overindulgence, I quietly left to purchase some hangover remedies for him.
I hadn't gone far when I caught his voice, measured and clear, cutting through the merriment.
"You're all mistaken. It's none of those things. The most thrilling thing I've ever done was transforming Brielle to resemble Sabrina."

Hate Being A Substitute

I acted without hesitation. "I'm certain," I declared, affixing my signature with determination.


My bond with Denver resembled the fractured bracelet—damaged beyond salvation.


I gathered my possessions and arranged for reconstructive surgery.


Post-operation, the physician commented, "Your previous surgeon must have been attempting to worsen your appearance. It's uncommon for individuals to deliberately make themselves less attractive. Your situation is quite peculiar."


I chuckled ruefully but remained silent. The doctor's words rang true—no one else had been as foolish as I. He informed me I'd recuperate in 48 hours, just in time to abandon everything without looking back.


On my return from the medical center, I chanced upon Denver and Sabrina in a heated exchange.


"You claim indifference towards her, yet I sense otherwise! If so, why should I cling to our history?"


05