Chapter 2
It was from Ryder.
I opened it. It was a photo of him and Savannah with their marriage certificate. My fingers clenched, staring blankly at the photo until the screen went dark.
All these years Savannah and I had been together, for various reasons, we’d unspokenly avoided talking about marriage.
We’d fallen in love at first sight, our relationship quickly heated up, and in our respective friend circles, we were considered a “model couple.” We hiked together, camped together, even traveled together.
We did everything a normal couple would do. I thought I would be this happy for the rest of my life.
But I never imagined those days would end so quickly.
I started noticing her requests getting stranger, but I indulged her, letting her have her way, not thinking much of it.
At first, she just wanted to control my outfits
I thought she just found me unfashionable, so I let it go. But then, she started directly controlling my preferences, restricting my behavior, even hiring a private tutor for me.
That’s when I became suspicious. A little digging, and I found out about Ryder’s existence.
It was then I understood: everything she had done for me before was actually for Ryder. From that moment on, I could often feel her looking through my eyes at someone else. For eight years, neither of us ever acknowledged this unspoken truth.
Until Ryder returned to the country. Once he knew about me, he went all out to impress Savannah, repeatedly mocking me as nothing more than his stand-in
. I’d lost count of how many photos like this one I’d received today.
Savannah pushed the door open, pinching her nose, a thermal container in her hand. Her tone was disdainful.
“I thought you were dead. Didn’t expect you to have such nine lives.”
She saw my gaze land on the container in her hand and said coldly, “I spent all afternoon making this chicken soup for Ryder. It’s not for you. Besides, you’re awake now, so you don’t need it anyway.”
She paused, her eyes darkening, then forced a sweet smile. “Since you’re fine, then the cake for Ryder’s birthday tomorrow is on you. Don’t you dare disappoint me again.”
Without waiting for my answer, she walked out, carrying the container. She had always been like this with me. I had grown used to it over the years.
Earlier, to make me more like Ryder, she had hired a private pastry chef to teach me, and I’d picked up a few tricks. But none of the desserts I’d painstakingly made for her had ever satisfied her.
She even took a cake I’d spent a whole day on and fed it to a dog. She’d cast a cold glance at the messy aftermath and declared shamelessly, “Caleb, you’re so utterly useless. You can’t even do such a simple thing right. You truly can’t even hold a candle to Ryder.”
Thinking of this, I called out to her, “Don’t you usually hate my cakes?”
She turned to look at me, her tone impatient. “If Ryder hadn’t specifically asked you to make it, do you think you’d even have this chance?”
True. If it weren’t for Ryder, she’d probably make it herself, or at least order a custom one. It would never be my turn. Before I could reply, she slammed the door shut.
Smelling the lingering chicken soup aroma that didn’t belong in my hospital room, I remembered Ryder’s room was directly above mine.
Just one floor separated us. He was in a luxurious VIP suite, complete with full amenities and a dedicated nutritionist for his recovery meals.
He certainly didn’t lack the bowl of chicken soup Savannah held.
As for me, the stand-in, ever since I was wheeled out of surgery, Savannah had originally planned to leave me to recover on a gurney in the hallway.
It was only after my surgeon strongly insisted, and her own impatience grew, that she reluctantly got me the cheapest, smallest room, barely a yard from the restroom.
The strong odor constantly drifted in, irritating me.
Just then, a nurse pushed the door open, her voice cold.
“Room 12, Caleb? Someone’s processed your discharge. Get ready to leave quickly. Someone will be here to clean and disinfect in half an hour.”
I froze, looking up at the IV bag that wasn’t even empty. I hadn’t expected Savannah to act so fast, not even waiting for an afternoon.
I ripped the IV needle from my hand, forcing down the discomfort in my body, and quickly packed up, preparing to leave the hospital.
As soon as I stepped out of the hospital, I received a frantic message from Savannah:
“Go to the bakery immediately. I’ve already had them prepare all the ingredients for the cake. Text me when you’re done.”
I stopped, read the message, then tapped the screen, calmly deleting it from my phone. This cake, consider it my wedding gift to them.
I had just hung up from calling the artisanal bakery when a SnapChat message popped up.
I assumed it was Ryder again, gloating about something Savannah had done for him, and was about to block him. The next second, I saw another message pop up in my SnapChat favorites:
“I land tonight. Free to pick me up?”
Seeing the familiar tone, I felt a little stunned.
I pinched myself hard, thinking I was hallucinating. I only had two people favorited on SnapChat: Savannah, and my one true love from my youth. In the eight years I’d been with Savannah, she never spoke to me with such patience.
In my memory, only she would talk like that.
But hadn’t she said she was moving abroad permanently and would never return?
If she hadn’t made that decision back then, we wouldn’t be in this situation now. After all, I had confessed my feelings to her years ago.
I stared at the message for a long time, calming my emotions before silently replying, “Okay.”