My childhood sweetheart always harbored a silent, ugly doubt about whether I was still "pure." My best friend had screamed at him, slapped him across the face, and forced him to give me the grandest wedding money could buy.

Everyone whispered that I was the most pitiable bride in the city. Yet, despite everything, I thought I was happy.

Until the middle of our reception, when the massive LED screen scrolling live digital wishes displayed a single line: "If I cannot marry you in this life, I will wait for you in the next." Before the room could even digest it, another message popped up under the spotlight: "Okay." That was when I noticed my best friend, standing beside me in her bridesmaid dress, secretly slipping her phone behind her back—having just typed a single, decisive word.

The bride my groom truly wanted to walk down the aisle was my best friend. … Before I completely lost my composure, Valerie put her phone away and took my hand, placing it gently into Trent’s palm. "Trent, I’m handing Mallory over to you," she said, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. "If you ever treat her badly, I swear to God I’ll destroy you." The second Trent’s fingers brushed against the rough, calloused skin of my palm, his brows twitched in subtle revulsion.

A cold, sharp ache pierced my chest. He stood frozen on the altar, gazing at Valerie with an ache so naked, so agonizingly deep, that the surrounding guests began to whisper.

Valerie bumped his shoulder hard with hers. "What are you staring at?

Mal is waiting for you." Only then did he snap back, scooping me up into his arms. "Let’s go," he muttered flatly. "Okay," I whispered, keeping my head down as tears quietly spilled over my lashes.

In the back of the wedding limo, he looked at my ruined makeup and frowned, clearly annoyed by my apparent drama. But I knew the truth.

He wasn't annoyed by my tears; he was repulsed by the ten years I had been gone.

Ten years ago, the night we submitted our college applications, I waited for Trent outside the amusement park, just as we had agreed. People were bustling past.

I never imagined anything bad could happen—until someone struck the back of my head, and everything went black.

When I woke up, I was trapped in a filthy, rotting bedroom in the middle of nowhere.

Sitting at the edge of the bed was a heavy, slowwitted man staring at me with hollow, glassy eyes.

No matter how hard I screamed, no matter how desperately I begged, he used his brutal, animal instincts to break me. It was a decadelong nightmare.

Every time my memory drifted back to it, the pain tore through me all over again. My only stroke of luck was that he was infertile.

When years passed without a pregnancy, he never listened to his mother’s demands to pass me off to his cousin just to produce an heir.

By the time Valerie finally tracked me down and brought me back, I was no longer the star student bound for an Ivy League path.

I was a broken woman with skin weathered from hard labor. But I had no children. Trent was disgusted by me. And truthfully, I was disgusted by myself.

I had never intended to marry him.

It was Trent who had crept into my bed in the middle of the night, kissing me with the frantic desperation of our youth, before burying his face against my collarbone, his voice trembling: "Mal, I’m so sorry." "I don’t look down on you.

I swear I don’t. It’s just... every time I think about how that bastard Roy hurt you, I want to kill him with my bare hands... Valerie and I became lawyers for you, Mal.

We’re going to make him pay for every single second." "Do you have any idea? After you vanished, I searched for you every single day.

I prayed to God I could bring you home..." "I love you. Please, marry me." The Trent I grew up with had never cried.

Yet there he was, weeping at my feet, holding my shattered pieces together. I couldn't say no. Only now did I finally understand: Trent had long since fallen in love with Valerie.

He was only marrying me because Valerie was forcing his hand.

When the limo came to a stop outside the venue, I wiped away my tears and spoke softly. "Trent... you should marry Valerie today. It’s fine. Really.

We haven't signed the legal papers at the courthouse yet.

It’s not too late to fix this." Trent’s tone snapped with impatience. "Are you really making a scene over a stupid digital message?" "I’m not making a scene," I said, looking straight into his eyes.

He finally realized my tears weren't from the overwhelming joy of becoming his wife, but from a profound, quiet heartbreak.

His expression softened, and he reached out to gently brush away a tear from my cheek. "Mal, stop overthinking things. I love you.

Valerie and I haven't crossed any lines—we’re just two soldiers who spent ten years in the trenches trying to bring you home.

The only reason we haven't filed the marriage certificate yet is because the lawsuit isn't over.

Your forced marriage to Roy hasn't been legally annulled." My voice shook. "Then let’s leave it. Legally, I’m still his wife anyway.

We shouldn't do this." Trent’s eyes reddened. "Mallory! Don't you dare talk about yourself like that! I love you!

How many times do I have to say it for you to believe me?" "I believe you," I whispered. I believed he loved the girl I was ten years ago.

Trent lowered himself, his stance almost desperate. "Mal, please. Walk down these steps with me. Marry me.

Let me take care of you for the rest of your life, okay?" Hearing him call me "Mal" for the first time in ten years paralyzed my ability to say no.

Heart heavy, I let him guide me through the rest of the reception like a ghost moving through a play. When the party ended, he told me to get some rest.

Exhausted body and soul, I washed up and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Sometime in the dead of night, I was startled awake by the sound of hurried, hushed kissing.

Then came Valerie’s strained, panicked whisper: "Trent, are you insane? Mal is right there on the bed! Get off me!" My horrifying suspicion was confirmed.

Yet before grief could take hold, an overwhelming wave of humiliation washed over me. I lay rigid under the covers, barely breathing, terrified they would realize I was awake.

Trent growled softly, "I’m not letting go!" Ignoring her feeble pushes, he kissed her deeply, greedily, before resting his forehead against hers. "Valerie, I did what you wanted!

I married her! I’m going to spend the rest of my life taking care of her! What more do you want from me?" "I love you!

I can’t control myself anymore!" Valerie kept her voice down, fighting to keep it steady. "You can only love Mallory. Even if you love someone else, it can never be me!

Do you remember how your parents died in that car crash while looking for her? Mal has nobody left except the two of us!

We cannot destroy her together!" "I know!" Trent sounded like a man unraveling. "That’s why I married her! That’s why I lie to her!

But all I want is to love you!" Valerie grew eerily quiet. "Trent, you don't love me.

It’s just that over the last ten years, as we searched for her together, sharing the pain, the despair, and the faint glimpses of hope... you got used to me being by your side.

The one you love is Mallory." "I’ll say it one last time. Trent... in this lifetime, there is no us." Trent completely snapped. In the dark, I heard the sharp tear of fabric.

I heard Valerie’s stifled curse. The rustle moved from the couch to the floor. Finally, there was only Valerie’s soft, broken weeping.

Trent sounded terrifyingly satisfied. "Valerie... tell me again that you don't love me." Valerie’s emotional armor shattered. "Fine! I love you!

If Mallory weren't my best friend, I would love you until the day I die! But she’s back now, Trent. Everything I said before doesn't count anymore.

If you ever treat her badly, I will end my life right in front of you!" My heart hurt so acutely I felt like I was dying, yet a strange, detached curiosity flickered inside me.

I wondered what kind of promise Valerie had made to Trent during those ten years if I had never come back.

Trent went still for a second, then began kissing her again, murmuring softly, "Valerie... as long as you stay alive, I’ll do anything you ask.

But I have one condition." "What?" "You spend one day a month with me.

We do whatever I want—including sleeping together." A sharp, violent slap echoed through the room. "Over my dead body!" Valerie hissed. "You married Mallory!

You don't get to betray her!" Trent’s voice turned icy, unbothered. "Every time I look at her, all I can think about is that she spent ten years with that monster.

I can’t bring myself to touch her. You saw him at the preliminary hearing, didn't you? Filthy, slow, probably carrying diseases...

I can be her husband, but I will never lay a finger on her." Valerie was shaking with rage. "Trent, you absolute bastard!" "You’re right!" he snapped. "I am a monster!

If you won't agree, I’ll just find another woman!" Valerie stammered, speechbound by fury.

Trent softened his tone again, adopting a desperate, persuasive whisper. "Valerie... as long as we keep it from Mal, what’s the harm?

Cheating with you is better than me sleeping with some random woman off the street. We’re the two most important people in her life.

Us being together won't hurt her—it’ll just make us treat her even better." Valerie seemed to surrender to her fate. She didn't say another word.

When Trent moved to kiss her again, her voice sounded weak, stripped of all resistance. "Go to the study.

I don't want Mallory to hear." Trent sounded ecstatic. "Okay!" As their hurried footsteps vanished down the hallway, I bolted into the ensuite bathroom, falling to my knees over the toilet, dryheaving uncontrollably.

When dawn broke, Trent still hadn't returned to the bedroom.

I picked up my phone and dialed a number. "As long as you can arrange a new identity and enrollment at an overseas university for me," I said quietly, "I’ll agree to the tellall interview." By the thirtieth day of our marriage, Trent had taken me on no honeymoon.

He barely tolerated sharing a bed with me, let alone showing any physical affection.

Meanwhile, my best friend—carrying the lingering scent of his cologne—sat across from me, begging me not to do the interview. "Mal, why do you have to do an interview with Vanguard Media?" Valerie pleaded, her eyes red. "Their journalists are notoriously ruthless!

You finally made it back home... please, don't reopen those wounds..." Tears spilled down her cheeks as she spoke. She was genuinely breaking down for me.

Thinking back on the past ten years—how she had lost sleep, lost weight, and practically crossed the entire country searching every rural corner for me—my heart ached with profound gratitude.

I cared about her. I was deeply grateful to her. Part of me still loved her like a sister. Even so, I could not accept sharing my life with two people who were lying to me.

Vanguard Media had a terrible reputation for sensationalism, but they had offered me a complete way out: an anonymous fresh start abroad.

It was my only ticket to severing this toxic web.

I pulled out a tissue and gently wiped Valerie’s tears. "Valerie, I know that with you and Trent here, I’ll never have to live through that nightmare again.

I can handle a few harsh questions. Don't worry about me." Valerie opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the team from Vanguard Media arrived.

She couldn't say anything further. She stepped behind the camera setup, watching me with bloodshot eyes. "Ms. Crawford, you didn't escape for ten years.

Was it because you didn't "want" to leave?" "Roy claimed you never refused to perform marital duties.

Is that true?" "We heard you recently had a wedding with highprofile attorney Trent Vincent.

Once the legal proceedings against Roy are finished, you plan to officially register your marriage.

Do you honestly feel you’re still good enough for a man like him?" "I reviewed the reports from ten years ago. Your test scores were high enough for toptier universities.

But now... can you even write a coherent sentence?" … Without a single pleasantry, the four journalists bombarded me with questions designed to make my head spin.

Valerie’s face flushed with anger. She was about to confront the producer when Trent walked in and yanked her away by her arm.

In that split second, I caught the raw, consuming love in Trent’s eyes as he pulled her out of the room. I dug my fingernails deep into my palms to keep from breaking down.

The lead male journalist didn't let me off the hook. "Your fiancé seemed worried your friend would disrupt the interview, so he pulled her out.

Looking at the way you’re watching them... do you suspect something?" "Off the record, Valerie is a successful attorney herself. She’s objectively a much better match for Trent.

If they ended up falling for each other, would you step aside for them?" The female reporter beside him pulled on his sleeve, whispering that he was going too far.

He ignored her, staring at me intently, demanding an answer.

Suddenly, a profound sense of relief washed over me. "Yes," I said smoothly. "I would." All four journalists froze in shock.

I took a deep, steadying breath and began answering the first question. "For ten years, I tried to escape every single day.

The first time I ran, they caught me and beat me until I couldn't walk. The second time, they beat me again...

The tenth time I tried, they locked me in a pigsty for a month..." I forced myself to speak the sickening details of those ten years of hell.

By the end, the four hardened journalists had tears in their eyes, while I sat there completely calm. The interview wrapped up early. All four of them apologized to me profusely.

I shook my head, telling them it was fine—as long as Vanguard Media fulfilled their promise to get me out of the country.

After seeing the crew out, I walked quietly toward the study—the room Trent had explicitly forbidden me to enter.

Sure enough, muffled, desperate sounds echoed through the heavy door. That night, Trent had demanded Valerie spend one day a month with him.

In reality, now that he had tasted what he wanted, he dragged her into that study whenever and wherever he could.

The first time, he told me they were discussing a sensitive case involving client confidentiality that I shouldn't hear. I had listened anyway.

Over and over, I forced myself to absorb the harsh reality: Trent was headoverheels in love with Valerie, body and soul.

And Valerie, emotionally incapable of refusing him, let her guilt turn her into his secret mistress.

If I walked away, the two people I loved most in the world could finally be happy.

Halfway through their encounter, I walked back to the master bedroom with absolute stillness in my chest and began packing my bags. "Clatter." My hand accidentally brushed against Trent’s suit jacket, knocking a pair of marriage certificates out of the inner pocket onto the floor.

One fell face up. Embossed with the official state seal was a photo of Trent and Valerie. The registration date: "The day before I was rescued." Trent held both certificates.

Valerie had no idea.

And Trent—the man I had loved for over a decade, the man who begged me to wait until my legal battle was over so we could register our marriage—had already been Valerie’s legal husband before I even set foot back in this city.

Finally, I understood what promise Valerie had made to him if I never came back. Clearly, Valerie loved me more than she loved Trent.

It was just her cruel misfortune that she had fallen in love with him anyway. I thought I had accepted reality.

Yet hot tears still cascaded down my cheeks, splashing onto the photo of Trent and Valerie smiling sidebyside. Panicked, I placed the certificates back exactly where I found them.

Then I ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind me as I gave in to dryheaving and violent, bodyracking sobs.

I told myself: "This is the absolute last time I will ever cry for Trent and Valerie." At the final trial, I stood in court as a key witness, tearing open my own scars in front of a packed room so that the man who ruined my life would receive his punishment.

I supposed I owed Trent a shred of thanks for that much. He had made me believe he waited ten years for me, that he truly wanted to marry me, all while betraying me at every turn.

But that betrayal had rebuilt my spine. Standing in that courtroom, I was no longer afraid of Roy, nor was I afraid of anything attached to him.

When the judge read the guilty verdict, sentencing Roy to decades in maximum security, his mother lost her mind right in the gallery.

She pointed a trembling finger at my face, screaming awful insults. "You worthless trash! Nobody wanted you! You stayed with my son willingly!

You—" Before she could finish, a loud "crack" echoed through the courtroom. Valerie had rushed over and slapped the woman hard across the face.

Valerie was shaking violently. "Shut your mouth!

I won't let you speak to Mallory like that!" Trent sprinted over to pull Valerie back, but the bailiffs were already escorting her out for disrupting the courtroom.

I watched in panic—until I caught the glare Trent cast in my direction.

It was a look of sharp, irritated blame: "Look at the trouble you’re causing Valerie." A slice of agony tore through me.

Never in my life had I felt so overwhelmingly certain that in this tragic little triangle, I was the unwanted third wheel.

Roy’s mother tried to cause another scene, but when the judge announced that she, too, was being charged as an accomplice to human trafficking, she collapsed onto the bench, weeping and begging for mercy.

It was useless. Every single person who had participated in my torture was going to prison. I walked out of the courthouse feeling lighter than I had in a decade.

Valerie was waiting outside. She threw her arms around me, sobbing into my shoulder. "Mal... it’s finally over... it’s over...

We can go back to how things used to be..." I whispered softly, "Can we really?" Valerie pulled back sharply, looking at me with frantic concern. "Mal, what’s wrong?

Are you still upset by what that crazy woman said? Don't listen to a word she said!" I gently shook my head. Trent stepped up beside us, still wearing his formal courtroom attire.

He looked striking—far more handsome than the ideal lawyer I used to picture when we were teenagers. But he didn't love me anymore.

Instead of congratulating me on my freedom, he frowned at me with cold reprimand. "Mallory, can’t you try to be a little stronger?

Do you have any idea that Valerie almost got detained just now because she hit that woman for you?" Valerie raised her hand, eyes wide. "Trent, stop talking!" Trent caught her wrist with practiced precision, his thumb instinctively stroking the soft skin of her inner wrist.

It was a habit he used to have whenever he was close to me ten years ago. A violent shudder ran through Valerie.

Her furious expression dissolved into something complex, tinged with a helpless, vulnerable tenderness. Trent stared down at her with unfiltered devotion.

To completely sever the remaining threads in my heart, I forced myself to keep watching. "Valerie, I..." As if suddenly waking from a spell, Valerie yanked her hand out of Trent’s grip.

She hurled a couple of harsh warnings at him, then turned back to me with exaggerated sweetness. "Mal, let’s get hot pot tonight, okay?

That place we used to go to all the time in high school!" "To celebrate the bad guys getting what they deserve.

To celebrate the first day of your new life." I offered a faint, polite smile. "Sure." "I just need to go home and change first.

You two go ahead and grab a table." Meeting Valerie’s anxious gaze, my smile deepened slightly. "Valerie, remember to order the tomato broth base for me." Valerie nodded repeatedly. "I will!

I promise!" Before the trial began that morning, I had already checked my luggage into a locker at the station. I was never going back to that house. I didn't want to.

After visiting my parents' graves to say a quiet goodbye, I hailed a cab straight to the airport. Right before boarding, two text messages lit up my phone backtoback.

Valerie: [Mal, why aren't you here yet? Did something happen on the way?] Trent: [Mallory, Valerie and I have been busting our asses for you for months.

We finally have one night to relax—don't ruin the mood for everyone.]