Chapter 3

3

When we got into bed that night, Silas tried to press against me.

The moment his hand slid under the hem of my shirt, I caught his wrist.

"I'm tired," I said.

I kept my back to him, fighting the urge to gag.

I knew he had kept many women over the years.

They all looked like me in some way.

They either had my face, my personality, or my voice.

I knew Silas didn't love them, and he didn't love me either.

He loved the ghost of the eighteen-year-old Shayna Sterling.

He loved the girl who was willing to die for him.

Silas pulled his hand back, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Fine. You'll be my wife in two days anyway. I'll let you off tonight."

"Okay," I whispered.

The room fell into a heavy silence.

He still hadn't noticed that anything was wrong.

After a long pause, he sat up.

"I just remembered some work at the office. My custom dress and shoes will be at the studio tomorrow at two."

He paused, waiting for a reaction.

"Just meet me at the studio then."

His tone was sharp, almost like he was waiting for me to beg him to stay.

But I wouldn't.

You can't keep someone who already has one foot out the door.

As he grabbed the doorknob, I called out to him.

"Silas, if I wanted to remove this scar, would you be okay with that?"

Silas froze for a second, then nodded with visible excitement.

"Of course I'd be okay with it!"

He seemed to realize he sounded too happy, so he knelt by the bed.

"I just want you to look beautiful in your wedding dress," he added softly.

I looked into his soulful eyes and almost laughed.

In the beginning, his tears for my scar were real.

But later, those tears turned into frustration and resentment.

Every time he saw the scar, it reminded him of his weak past.

It reminded him of the debt he owed me.

He had been trying to convince me to get it removed for a long time.

I had always refused.

I didn't realize that by refusing, I had turned myself into a living reminder of his shame.

The door shut, and my tears finally fell, soaking into the pillow.

The next morning, I went to a plastic surgery clinic.

On the way, I got a message from Nora.

"Hey girl, I'm going to the studio to try on your wedding dress and shoes. You don't mind, right?"

My fingers trembled, but I didn't reply.

I screenshotted the message and saved it for the gift I was preparing for Silas.

As I lay on the operating table, the cold anesthetic flowed into my veins.

"Let's begin," I whispered.

I closed my eyes and thought about the eighteen-year-old Silas.

If he were here, he would be devastated to see me like this.

The surgery was a success, but the recovery was painful.

Looking at my smooth, clear skin in the mirror, I smiled.

From now on, there would be no trace of Silas Sinclair on my body.

I received another message from Nora―a photo.

She and Silas were posing in a tuxedo and a white gown.

They looked like a perfect match.

It was as if Silas had finally found his eighteen-year-old Shayna.

I curled my lips in a mocking smile.

At 2:30 PM, I arrived at Silas's studio.

He was staring at a slideshow, a look of pure bliss on his face.

When he saw me, he waved me over and handed me a gown.

"Shay, try this on! I spent weeks designing it and paid a fortune for a master tailor in Paris to make it."

I flipped the dress over and saw the small tear Nora had intentionally left in the lining.

"Silas, why is there a tear in this dress? Did someone else wear it before me?"

A flash of guilt crossed his eyes.

"That's impossible!"

"I designed this specifically for you. It's one of a kind. Why would I let anyone else touch it?"

His hands balled into fists―a telltale sign he was lying.

"I'll try that one instead," I said, pointing to a strapless gown with a long train.

Silas frowned.

"But Shay, you said you only wanted to wear something I designed."

"But the gown is ruined..."

I looked him straight in the eye.

"You wouldn't want me walking down the aisle in a damaged dress, would you?"

Knowing he was in the wrong, he could only nod and let me switch.

When I walked out in the strapless gown, Silas looked stunned.

But the wonder in his eyes quickly turned to a strange sense of regret.

I realized his love had become a cage.

He wanted me to stay eighteen forever, trapped in his version of the past.

But I was twenty-five now.

Silas stepped closer, but his eyes locked onto my chest.

"You... you actually removed the scar?"

His fingers shook as he reached out to touch my collarbone.

I nodded and twirled in front of the mirror.

"I asked you yesterday, remember?"

"You said you supported me."

Silas's eyes turned red, but he couldn't find the words to speak.