The night before we were set to sign our marriage license at City Hall, my friends threw us a party. They insisted on playing a "Life's Mystery Box" game.

The women each put a mystery gift into identical boxes, to be randomly drawn by the men. They all insisted this was the fairest way to play.

But when I opened my box, there was nothing inside but a thin slip of paper: "Thanks for playing." The entire room went quiet for a fraction of a second, and then someone snickered.

My fiancée, Lara, reached over and casually straightened my collar. "Still no luck, I see." My childhood friend, Nina, leaned in and murmured under her breath, "Smile, Alan.

Don't let everyone think you're a sore loser." In that very same round, Enoch drew the "grand prize"—the hidden luxury tier.

Inside his box was a limitededition automatic watch Lara had spent weeks sourcing, a voucher for a luxury private island resort for two that I had begged her to take me on for three years, and a handwritten card from Nina: "We'll always protect you from now on." I forced a smile, slipping the cold slip of paper back into the empty box.

It was just a game, after all. A matter of luck.

Except, when I went to the restroom later, I overheard the host in the VIP lounge going over the list with them. "Lara, we got the boxes right, correct?" the host asked. "The grand prize for Enoch, the consolation prize for Alan." Lara gave a quiet, uncaring "Mhm." Nina laughed softly. "Perfect.

Don't worry, Alan knows how to play along. He'll find a way to laugh it off." Standing outside the door, my mind flashed back to the night of my eighteenth birthday.

I had stood in the pouring rain, waiting for the midnight fireworks to celebrate my transition into adulthood. Lara and Nina had only one umbrella.

They held it over Enoch's head, looking back at me only to say, "Alan, your house is close. Just run for it, you'll be fine." I had walked home drenched that night.

I even made excuses for them to my father, convincing myself that it was just my bad luck. But tonight, the truth finally clicked.

The umbrella was never meant for me in the first place. So, this time, I tore the card to pieces. I logged onto the online portal and canceled our City Hall appointment.

This rigged game of luck they loved so much? I was done playing. … When I walked back into the private room, Enoch was surrounded by people taking photos of him.

The luxury automatic watch caught the overhead lights, gleaming on his wrist like a piece of the moon they had plucked down just for him. Someone teased, "Lara, this is insane.

If I didn't know better, I'd think Enoch was the one you're marrying tomorrow." Enoch’s eyes immediately welled with tears. "Don't say that...

Alan will be upset." The moment he spoke, every eye in the room shifted to me. Lara watched me walk in, her brow twitching slightly. "Why are you just standing by the door?

Anyone would think we're mistreating you." I looked at her, finding it almost funny.

I was the one who had been humiliated, yet even my silence was being treated like a childish tantrum. So, I didn't move. Lara's expression hardened.

Nina was the first to stand up and walk over to me. She had gentle eyes, the kind of face that always seemed to carry a soft, reassuring smile.

Before I turned eighteen, I truly believed Nina was the one person in this world who would never let me hurt.

But now, she looked up at me, keeping her voice in a low, tight whisper: "Alan, please.

Don't embarrass Lara in front of everyone." I looked down at her. "Did I say anything?" Nina hesitated.

Enoch, clutching the leather strap of the watch, let a tear slip down his cheek. "Alan, here, take the watch.

I shouldn't have kept it anyway." The moment his fingers touched the clasp, Lara intervened. "Keep it on," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument.

She turned her sharp gaze to me. "A draw is a draw." I let out a soft, dry laugh. The room went dead silent. Lara's eyes turned icy. Nina frowned. "Alan, it's just a game.

Do you really have to make this so ugly?" She stepped in front of Enoch, shielding him.

Her voice remained soft, but it carried the cold, heavy weight of a threat. "You know Enoch has always been fragile. He's finally having a good night.

Can't you just let him have this?" "Let him have this." Always that phrase. I couldn't help but look at Enoch.

He stood tucked beside Lara, tears still glistening on his lashes, but the glance he shot me was so brief, so faint, it was almost a smirk.

A second later, Lara stood up and walked over to me. She wore her signature cedarwood perfume. I was the one who had picked it out for her years ago.

I told her it suited her—crisp, clean, sophisticated. She had complained it was too subtle back then.

But when Enoch mentioned he liked it, she wore it every single day for three years. She reached up, intending to adjust my collar like she always did.

I turned my head and stepped back, avoiding her touch. Someone in the room caught their breath. Lara's eyes darkened completely. "Tomorrow morning is the final suit fitting.

I'll meet you there." I met her gaze. "You actually remember?" She looked at me as if I had just said something entirely ridiculous. "When have I ever broken a promise to you?" Right then, Enoch let out a soft, fragile cough.

Lara's head snapped toward him instantly. "What's wrong?" Enoch shook his head. "Nothing... just my wrist is a little itchy.

Maybe the strap is a bit too tight." Lara immediately grabbed her coat from the sofa and draped it over his shoulders.

Nina looked at my pale face and let out a long, weary sigh. "Alan, don't overthink this. Lara is marrying you tomorrow.

Enoch is just our little brother." I stared at her. "Does a 'little brother' accept a luxury couple's watch handpicked by my fiancée?" The warmth drained from Nina’s face. "Do you have to be so spiteful?" Lara looked back at me, her voice cutting through the room. "Alan.

Enough." Suddenly, the fight left me. I didn't want to say another word. In their world, even after being humiliated, I was expected to laugh, smile, and blame my own bad luck.

When the party finally broke up, Lara took Enoch to the hospital because his wrist had broken out in a mild rash. Nina stayed behind to drive me home.

As we reached the door, she took off her coat and handed it to me. "It's cold out. Don't catch a chill." I stared down at the coat.

She always did this—just when I was on the verge of letting go completely, she would throw me a crumb of perfect, calculated warmth.

And then, in the very next breath, she would push me right back into my place.

Sure enough, as she adjusted the collar of the coat around me, she said, "Alan, don't take tonight to heart. You know how Lara is. Cold on the outside, but she cares.

She's going to the fitting with you tomorrow, and the day after, you two will be legally married. You've already won.

Don't keep fighting Enoch over petty things." I looked into her eyes. "What exactly did I win?" Nina froze. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Because deep down, even she couldn't answer that question. The next morning, I went to the bridal boutique alone.

The stylist pulled my tuxedo from the garment bag, her eyes lighting up. "Mr. Alan, this is absolutely stunning on you. Is Ms.

Lara arriving soon?" I hesitated. "She'll be here." It was the very last time I would ever make an excuse for her. But ten o'clock came and went. She wasn't there.

At tenthirty, her assistant sent a text: "Mr. Alan, Ms. Lara has an urgent matter to attend to. She might not make it today." I called Lara. Surprisingly, she picked up.

But in the background, I could hear Enoch's whimpering, trembling voice. "Lara, I'm at the boutique," I said quietly, holding the phone tight. "Are you coming?" "It's not me, it's Enoch," she said, her tone harried. "He had a severe allergic reaction to the watch strap last night.

His wrist is completely swollen." I looked down at the tuxedo I was wearing.

The waist was tailored so tightly it felt like a band of iron squeezing the air from my lungs. "Today is our final fitting," I said. Silence fell over the line.

Then, Lara let out a soft, exasperated sigh. "Alan, don't compare yourself to him. You're the one signing the papers tomorrow. You're the one who will stand beside me at the altar.

Enoch is sick. I'm just staying with him for a little while. Do you really have so little security in our relationship?" A lump formed in my throat, thick and dry.

Just then, the boutique clerk walked over carrying a box. "Mr. Alan, Ms. Lara just had this delivered for you." Inside the box was a pair of black leather dress shoes.

The soles were incredibly soft, and there were preapplied gel cushions at the heels to prevent chafing. A small card was tucked inside. "Your heels blister easily.

Don't wear anything too stiff." I stared at the handwriting, and a sharp, sudden ache bloomed in my chest. So she did remember.

When I was eighteen, the first time I wore formal dress shoes, my heels had been rubbed raw and bloody.

On the phone, her voice softened slightly. "Did you get the shoes?" "Yeah," I whispered. "Be good," she said, almost coaxingly. "I'll come home and have dinner with you tonight." Before I could answer, Enoch's voice drifted through the receiver: "Lara... is my wrist going to scar?" Lara immediately turned away from the phone. "No, of course not.

Let me see." The call went dead. I looked down at the shoes. They were a perfect fit. But the person who sent them never came. At three in the afternoon, Nina showed up.

By then, I had tried on every piece of the suit. Nina pushed the door open, her eyes lingering on me for a long moment. "You look handsome," she murmured.

She walked closer, then glanced down at my feet.

Her brows knitted together immediately. "Are your heels bleeding again?" She knelt down on the plush carpet, pulling a tin of BandAids from her purse. "Don't move." She applied the bandages with practiced, gentle fingers, just like she used to.

When she finished, she looked up at me. "Does it hurt?" I didn't answer. Nina stood up, offering me a hand to help me up. "Let's get in the car.

It's freezing outside." The rain was still falling. As we walked out, she tilted the umbrella entirely over my head, letting her own shoulder get completely drenched.

I followed her to the car. But just as I reached for the passenger door, I saw a brandnew box of sneakers sitting on the front seat.

It was a crisp white shoe box, the laces already carefully threaded and tied. I froze.

Nina stiffened for a second, but quickly reached out to block my view of the passenger seat, her voice airy and casual. "Hop in the back, okay?" I stared at the shoe box. "The shoes can't sit in the back?" Nina’s hand remained on the door. "Alan, don't start.

Enoch has been waiting for these sneakers all afternoon." "So I sit in the back, and the sneakers get the front seat?" She let out a heavy sigh. "Alan, you're different.

You're stronger than him." A sudden, burning sting hit the back of my eyes.

But I reached out and pushed her hand away from the car door. "Nina, I don't want to be strong today." The gentle warmth on her face evaporated. "Don't make this difficult for me." I gave a bitter laugh. "You always ask me to be the mature one.

Why do you never ask him to grow up?" Nina was silent for a couple of seconds.

Then, she said softly, "Because he would actually break down, Alan." I nodded slowly. "And I won't." I clutched my garment bag tightly to my chest and walked straight into the downpour.

The rain was heavy. Within a few steps, my heels were screaming in pain. I didn't look back, and Nina didn't chase after me. Maybe it didn't matter anymore.

Twenty minutes later, Enoch posted on his social media. The photo showed the sneakers sitting pristine on the edge of his hospital bed.

His caption read: "Someone ran through the storm just to bring me these.

She said she couldn't rest until she knew I was okay." I stood on the curb of the wet street, holding the garment bag, my heels completely numb.

The boutique assistant came running out, handing me a small paper bag. "Mr. Alan! You forgot your tie." I took it from her.

In that exact moment, the desire to get married vanished entirely. But the next morning, I still went to City Hall.

Perhaps deep down, I still wanted to see if she would actually show up. At ninefifteen, I saw Lara's black sedan pull up across the street. The door opened, and my chest loosened.

I even subconsciously reached down to adjust my cuffs.

I thought to myself, if she just walks over and says, "Alan, I'm here," maybe I could swallow all the pain and humiliation from the night before one last time.

But then her phone rang. Lara answered. I don't know what Enoch said on the other end, but the color drained from her face.

Without a second thought, she turned back around and got back into the car. The sound of the car door shutting was quiet, but it hit me like a physical blow to the chest.

Ten minutes later, Enoch posted again. "I told her I didn't want to be alone, and she actually turned the car around for me." The attached photo showed Lara's hand holding his while he was hooked up to an IV.

At nineforty, Nina finally arrived at City Hall.

She got out of her car, her face pale with exhaustion, clearly having had no sleep. "Don't wait," she said, walking up to me. "Lara isn't coming today." I stared at her. "I saw her." Nina flinched.

Her mouth opened, but all she could muster was, "Enoch's allergy flared up again last night. He was in a highly fragile state." I asked, "What about me?

Am I not allowed to be fragile?" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alan, please.

Stop asking things like that." She stepped closer, her voice shifting into a placating tone. "You get the wedding. You get the legal title. You'll be part of the family soon.

What does Enoch have? He only has us." I quietly tucked my ID away and turned to leave.

Nina grabbed my arm. "Where are you going?" "To the wedding planner." She let out a long breath of relief. "To finalize the schedule?" "Yeah." Her expression softened. "Good.

That's more like you. Don't ruin everything.

If you make a scene, you're only going to embarrass yourself." At the wedding planner's office, the coordinator looked incredibly uncomfortable.

She hesitantly turned her iPad toward me, showing me the mockup for the welcome display at the entrance.

On the screen was a large photo of Lara in the center, with me on her left and Enoch on her right. It was a photo from Enoch's birthday party last year.

He was wearing a white suit, holding Lara's arm, looking far more like the groom than I ever did.

I was shoved to the edge of the frame, still holding the knife we used to cut his cake.

The welcome text had been changed too. "Thank you for celebrating our ten years together." But why "our ten years"? Why did our decadelong story have to include Enoch?

I kept scrolling through the itinerary. Everything had been altered.

There was even a section added to the wedding vows where we were supposed to publicly thank Enoch for his presence in our lives.

I looked up at the planner. "Who authorized this?" The planner swallowed hard. "Ms.

Lara did." Seeing my expression sour, Nina quickly chimed in. "It's just the lobby display, Alan, not the main stage. Enoch has never had a real family.

He just wanted to feel included." I looked directly at her. "It's my wedding.

Why does he need to feel included in my wedding?" Nina’s voice went cold. "Alan, don't be so petty." Just then, Lara's call came through.

I answered, and she immediately asked, "Have you seen the updated itinerary?" "Yes." "Enoch cried all night because he felt like an outsider.

I had them add a few photos to make him feel welcome." "Do you honestly think that's appropriate?" I asked. "What's wrong with it?" she snapped, her patience clearly wearing thin. "He's the best man, and he's our mutual friend.

You're marrying me tomorrow, Alan, not a digital screen." I kept scrolling down. When I reached the page detailing the wedding accessories, my fingers froze.

The note at the bottom read: "The silver cufflinks are to be worn by Mr. Enoch for the prewedding promotional video shoot." Those silver cufflinks belonged to my late father.

Before he passed away, he told me he wanted me to wear them on the day I got married. "Why is Enoch wearing my father's cufflinks?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Lara went quiet for a beat. "He's just borrowing them for the shoot..." "Those were my dad's," I interrupted. "I know." I let out a breathless, hollow laugh. "You know, and you still let him have them?" Through the speaker, I heard Enoch's soft, trembling sob. "Lara... forget it.

I won't wear them.

I don't want Alan to think I'm bringing bad luck to his day..." Lara's tone softened instantly. "Don't say that." When she spoke to me again, the ice was back. "Alan, he's just trying to help us shoot a nice preview video.

Do you have to be so incredibly harsh?" "Get them back," I said. Lara didn't answer.

Beside me, Nina spoke up. "Alan, if your dad were still here, he wouldn't hold a grudge against a kid like Enoch." I whipped my head around to look at her.

The conference room went completely silent. Nina flinched slightly under my gaze, but she pressed on. "Am I wrong? Your dad would have wanted you to take the high road.

If he saw you throwing a tantrum over a pair of cufflinks, he wouldn't be proud." "Slap." My hand collided with her cheek. Lara's sharp voice cut through the phone. "Alan!

Did you just hit her?!" Nina held her burning face, her eyes wide with utter shock. "Alan... I don't even recognize you anymore!" I didn't say a word.

I picked up my bag and walked out of the room.

Behind me, Lara's voice boomed from the speaker: "If you walk out that door, don't bother waiting up for me tonight!" I paused for a fraction of a second. "Fine." At eleven o'clock that night, Lara still wasn't home.

I sat in the living room of our new house, reading the wedding contract from cover to cover. My name only appeared twice. This didn't feel like a celebration of my union with Lara.

It felt like an elaborate stage play where I was merely an extra. At 1:00 AM, the front lock clicked. Lara walked in, bringing the sterile, distinct smell of a hospital with her.

Seeing me sitting on the couch, she frowned. "Why are you still up?" "Where are my father's cufflinks?" Her hand stopped on the buckle of her watch. "Enoch needs them for the shoot tomorrow morning.

They're staying with him tonight." I stood up. "Get them back. Right now." Lara's expression turned cold. The last of her patience evaporated. "Alan, I am marrying you tomorrow.

What more do you want?" "I want what's mine." Lara let out a sharp, mocking laugh. It was quiet, but it cut deep. "He's just borrowing them, and you're acting like this?

You are incredibly greedy, Alan." I stared at her, utterly hollowed out. To her, wanting my father's only legacy back was greed. Just then, Nina called Lara's phone.

Her voice was frantic: "Lara, we have a problem. Enoch says the cufflinks are gone." My entire body went rigid.

Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the hotel suite they were using as a dressing room.

Enoch sat in front of the vanity mirror, Lara's coat draped over his shoulders, his eyes swollen and bloodshot from crying.

The vanity table was a chaotic mess of makeup and clothes. But my father's silver cufflinks were nowhere to be seen.

I looked at the stylist. "Where are the security tapes?" She kept her head down. "The cameras in this hallway were down for maintenance this afternoon." How convenient.

I turned to Enoch. "Give them back to me." Enoch's tears immediately began to flow. "Alan, I swear I didn't take them.

I don't know where they went." "Then I'm calling the police." Enoch's face went white. Suddenly, he lunged toward the concrete pillar in the room. "It's all my fault!

I shouldn't have touched your things! I'll just die, okay? Let me just die!" Lara caught him just in time, pulling him back. Nina rushed over to hold him too.

The two of them stood flanking him, shielding him from my gaze.

Lara looked back at me, her eyes like daggers. "Apologize." I thought my ears were playing tricks on me. "What did you say?" "Apologize to him," she said, each word dripping with venom. "He is already on the verge of a breakdown, and you're still pushing him?" I stared at her. "Lara, he lost my father's only inheritance." "He said it was an accident." "And you just believe him?" "Do you have any proof that it wasn't?" I had no words left.

Beside them, Nina spoke in a low, pleading tone. "Alan, just apologize. You've already got everything.

Why do you have to humiliate him?" Looking at them, a wave of profound exhaustion washed over me.

Enoch was clearly the one who had won everything, yet everyone treated him like the victim. I slowly nodded.

I didn't want to fight anymore. "Fine." The room fell into an uneasy quiet. Lara knit her brows, clearly surprised by how quickly I had given in. Nina looked stunned too.

I turned to Enoch. He was still cowering behind Lara, his eyes wet with crocodile tears. "I'm sorry," I said. Nina’s lips parted. "Alan..." I didn't look at either of them.

I slipped my engagement ring off my finger and set it gently on the edge of the vanity. "Go ahead with the wedding tomorrow," I said quietly. "Don't let me ruin your night." I turned and walked out.

Lara made a move to follow me, but Enoch suddenly clutched his wrist, his voice trembling. "Lara... it hurts so much..." Lara instinctively spun back to him, and Nina immediately knelt down to check on him.

In that split second, I pushed the heavy doors open and left. By the time they looked back, the door had already swung shut. And I didn't look back.

That night, I went back to the house and canceled every single wedding vendor one by one. The coordinator answered my call at 3:00 AM, her voice trembling with panic. "Does Ms.

Lara know about this?" "She doesn't need to." Before the sun rose, I walked out of the house with a single suitcase.

At ten o'clock the next morning, the day the wedding was supposed to happen, Lara walked into a highend jewelry boutique. She picked out a men's wedding band.

She stared down at the simple platinum ring, her voice quiet. "He's loved this style since he was eighteen." Beside her, Nina held a longhandled black umbrella.

My name was engraved on the silver handle. She gave a soft laugh. "And this should make up for the rest.

He's remembered that rainy night when we were eighteen for so long." Lara shot her a sideways glance. "You knew about that?" The smile faded slightly from Nina’s face. "I knew." She paused, then added, "He apologized so quickly last night." Lara scoffed. "He was just tired.

He made a scene all night, and he needed a way to save face." Nina nodded. "True." She smiled gently. "Alan has always had a soft heart.

Once you give him the ring and I give him the umbrella, he won't be able to stay mad." When they arrived at the hotel venue, the coordinator was directing the staff to tear down the welcome board.

Lara froze in her tracks. "What are you doing? Why are you taking that down?" The coordinator looked up, shocked to see her. "Ms. Lara... didn't you know?

The wedding has been canceled."