Chapter 1

My boyfriend, Austin Miller, always called me by his ex-girlfriend's name.

On my birthday, when he handed me a gift, the words slipped out of his mouth:

"Summer, this is your favorite shade of lipstick."

When he accompanied me to the hospital for an IV drip, he asked:

"Summer, does it hurt?"

Even on Valentine's Day, as he held me by the waist in the dark, he whispered:

"Summer, just relax."

Every single time, I corrected him with rising anger:

"My name is Sera, Austin. Not Summer."

Over time, Austin began to pause for a solid two seconds before calling my name.

Eventually, he would manage to get it right: "Sera."

I thought he had finally trained himself to forget her.

Until Summer Reed, his ex, joined our company.

And just like that, he started slipping up again.

Even when he went down on one knee, holding a ring in front of me, he blurted out:

"Summer, will you marry me!"

But this time, I didn't get angry. I didn't correct him. I stopped forcing him to get my name right altogether.