Chapter 4

Jane's POV

Over the next several days, Tristan seemed to be trying to compensate for that bit of guilt in his heart, becoming increasingly attentive to me.

He pushed aside several unimportant social engagements and came home on time every day to have dinner with me.

On the weekend, he even proactively suggested taking me to try on wedding dresses.

In the most upscale custom wedding dress boutique downtown, the attendant carefully zipped up the back.

This wedding dress was the swan song of a top European designer. There was only one in the entire world.

I looked at myself in the mirror wearing the pure white wedding dress and only wanted to laugh.

I lifted the hem and walked out of the fitting room.

Tristan, waiting on the sofa, looked up, a flash of amazement in his eyes.

He stood up, strode over to me, and lowered his head to kiss my lips.

"Jane, you're beautiful."

Just then, the phone in Tristan's pocket vibrated.

He paused, took out his phone, glanced at it, and his expression changed slightly.

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, holding his phone, and answered the call.

Though he deliberately lowered his voice, I still vaguely heard a few words.

"Sarah... your father's side... okay, I'll come sign right away..."

After hanging up, Tristan turned around. The tenderness had faded from his face, replaced by barely concealed urgency.

"Jane, there's an emergency situation at the European branch. I need to hold a cross-border video conference. I have to get back to the company immediately."

He walked over and apologetically kissed my forehead.

"Take your time trying things on. Have them alter whatever doesn't fit. I'll have the driver take you home later."

I watched his retreating figure without exposing his lie.

Cross-border video conference?

What could make Tristan Fuller abandon his fiancée during her wedding dress fitting, other than Sarah?

I turned and walked back to the fitting room, taking off that expensive wedding dress.

"No need for alterations."

I handed the dress to the attendant.

"I don't want this one."

Under the attendant's astonished gaze, I changed back into my own clothes and walked out of the bridal shop.

Returning to the penthouse, I began clearing out my belongings.

This large flat was filled with traces of our three years living together.

I grabbed several extra-large black trash bags and started tidying from the living room.

Matching couple mugs-thrown away.

Souvenirs bought together on our ski trip to the snow mountains-thrown away.

All the expensive bags and jewelry he'd brought back from business trips-packed up and collected by a luxury goods resale shop I'd contacted.

When I reached the walk-in closet, my movements paused.

In the bottom drawer lay a thick photo album.

These were photos I'd secretly taken during the five years Tristan was in a wheelchair.

There was his back as he furiously smashed things, a close-up of him biting his lip bloody during rehabilitation, and also a photo of us embracing and crying when he first stood independently.

I reached out and touched the young but gloomy face of the man in the photos.

Back then, Tristan only had eyes for me.

But people always change. Once the illness is cured, the crutch is no longer needed.

I didn't cry. I calmly closed the album and, along with those old clothes, mercilessly threw everything into the trash bag.

By evening, the once-full penthouse was already half empty.

Only some superficial necessities remained, maintaining the illusion that I was still living there.

At ten p.m., Tristan came back.

He carried a faint smell of disinfectant, clearly just returning from the hospital.

Seeing that some decorations were missing from the living room, he frowned slightly.

"Why is the house so empty?"

"The season changed. I cleared out some old things we don't use and threw them away."

I sat on the sofa without even lifting my head.

Tristan walked over and sat beside me, reaching out to hold me.

"I'm sorry about today, leaving you alone at the bridal shop. I'll go with you tomorrow to try on dresses again, okay?"

I avoided his touch and stood up.

"No need. I've already chosen the wedding dress."

Tristan looked at my attitude and fell silent for a moment.

"Jane, are you angry?"

"No."

My tone was calm.

"I'm a bit tired. I'm going to bed."

Just as I was about to leave, he suddenly told me.

"Tomorrow night is Gabriel's birthday party. Come with me."

As he said this, he looked at me expectantly, seemingly wanting to see me happy.

But I just nodded.

"Got it."

I just nodded, then turned and left.