Chapter 2

Hearing his low, questioning voice, Melisa let out a wry chuckle. "What do you mean, 'What am I doing here?' I was supposed to marry Tristan. Why are you the one standing here instead?"

Leonard exhaled, rubbing his temples. "We'll talk later," he said before turning away to greet the guests.

"Mr. Dayansh," Leonard addressed a middle-aged man with a polite nod.

"Congratulations, Mr. Leonard," the man replied warmly.

Watching Leonard handle everything so easily, as if this unexpected wedding was nothing more than a minor inconvenience, Melisa felt a sinking sensation in her chest. Was she the only one shaken by this?

"Our new bride, where are you sneaking off to?" A teasing voice rang out behind her.

Melisa turned to see her chubby aunt grinning at her. Schooling her expression into an even tone, she replied, "I'm just going to the bride suite."

"Are you okay?" Her aunt's smile faded slightly.

"Yes, just a little tired," Melisa murmured.

"Alright, go rest for a bit. The reception is tonight, so you'll need your energy," her aunt said with a nod.

"Hm." Melisa turned away, her footsteps barely making a sound, as if she wished to disappear unnoticed.

The reception passed in a blur. Melisa barely touched her food, her thoughts tangled in the whirlwind of events. Every now and then, her gaze flickered toward Leonard, searching for answers, but he remained unfazed—his posture relaxed, his conversations polite, as if this was nothing more than another business event. Meanwhile, her parents and in-laws were nowhere to be seen.

By the time the guests left, exhaustion clung to her like a heavy cloak. The moment they stepped into the lavish hotel suite, reality sank in. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in an unfamiliar silence.

Melisa turned to Leonard, waiting for him to speak—to offer an explanation, a reason, anything. But he simply loosened his tie and walked past her.

"I'm taking a shower," he said flatly, disappearing into the bathroom.

She stood frozen in place, the sound of running water filling the room. Her eyes drifted to the large bed, decorated with rose petals—a mocking reminder of the wedding night she had never imagined having.

How had it come to this?

Tristan and Olivia had always been the lively ones, their presence like the sun chasing away the shadows. With their fathers as business partners, the four of them had grown up together. Back then, she and Leonard had been close too. She could still remember those carefree days, the warmth of their friendship. It had felt like a dream.

But Leonard's sudden confession had shattered that dream.

She never had the chance to process it, not when Olivia fell sick, not when Tristan—always reckless, always a flirt—kept drifting further away. The distance between them had grown, yet she never thought it would lead to this moment.

A sharp pang settled in her chest.

The sound of the shower stopped.

Melisa glanced toward the bathroom door, her heart beating a little faster.

She parted her lips, about to say something—anything—but the words died on her tongue as Leonard stepped out. His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead, and the soft glow of the room's lights cast shadows along the sharp lines of his face. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing just a hint of his collarbone.

She swallowed, suddenly unsure of what to say.

A knock at the door broke the silence.

"Come in," Melisa said, her voice steadier than she felt.

A staff member entered, carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming soup.

Melisa turned to Leonard, expecting him to acknowledge it. But he was already seated on the sofa, a book in his hands, completely unbothered by her presence.

Something about his calm, detached demeanor made her chest tighten.

She lowered her gaze to the soup, the warmth of the bowl spreading through her cold fingers. Slowly, she lifted the spoon and took a sip.

It was comforting. Simple.

A small warmth flickered in her heart.

Even if he didn't say anything, at least he had ordered this for her.

Even if she didn't understand him anymore… perhaps, a part of him still cared.

After Melisa had eaten her fill, the waiter quietly took the tray and left, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The room fell into silence.

Melisa stood stiffly, unsure of how to start a conversation. The weight of everything that had happened still pressed heavily on her chest.

"You can sleep on the bed. I'll take the sofa," Leonard said, his voice calm yet distant.

Startled, Melisa glanced up, just in time to catch the fleeting helplessness in his eyes before he looked away.

A strange feeling settled in her heart—relief, perhaps, mixed with something she couldn't quite name.

Without a word, she moved toward the bed, sweeping all the scattered rose petals to one side before slipping beneath the covers.

Her thoughts were a tangled mess, emotions swirling within her like an untamed storm. But exhaustion weighed heavier. Whether it was from the long, chaotic day or the emotional toll of it all, her heavy eyelids soon won the battle.

Sleep pulled her under, her mind still lingering on the quiet figure across the room.

In the haze of sleep, Melisa felt a gentle touch brush against her face—warm, fleeting, almost hesitant. She tried to open her eyes, to see who it was, but sleep held her captive, pulling her deeper into its embrace.

When she finally woke up, the soft morning light filtered through the curtains. A quick glance at the clock made her jolt upright—8 AM.

Her heart pounded as she turned toward the sofa, but it was empty.

As her mind started racing with overanalyzing thoughts, a quiet click came from the bathroom door.

Leonard stepped out, his expression calm and unreadable. His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead, a towel draped over his shoulders.

Seeing her awake, he simply said, "Get ready. We have to go home today."