Eight Chances to Forgive You

"Unbelievable! You two are actually getting married? A rich playboy settling down for love—it's like a story straight out of a novel. Looks like we, your humble friends, will have to rely on you in the future."

The speaker was Mia, Alyssa’s college roommate.

"My boyfriend’s company recently started working with the AetherTech Solutions. Alyssa, do you think you could put in a good word for us?"

Mia's expression was sly, and her intention was obvious.

Alyssa paused for a moment before shaking her head. "The business decisions are entirely up to Ivan. I can’t interfere."

Mia hadn’t expected Alyssa to outright dismiss her, not even offering the usual pleasantries. After a brief moment of surprise, she continued joking, "Alyssa, you’re being modest. You and President McCartney have been together for five years now. We've all seen how far he’s willing to go for you."

Others chimed in enthusiastically.

"When President McCartney was pursuing you, the highandmighty young master worked at a small diner just to be near you."

"When the McCartney family disapproved of your background, he stood up to them for you, ready to give up wealth and luxury."

"Oh, and remember how you once mentioned wanting a wedding on an island? I saw the news—he actually bought an island just for your wedding!"

One compliment followed another, but Alyssa felt far from happy.

Over the years, Ivan had done countless things for her, each one enough to evoke envy from others.

They had been in love for five years. Recently, Ivan had even proposed to her in an extravagant, highprofile manner, stirring another wave of admiration from onlookers.

But what no one knew was that this seemingly perfect man had cheated on her right before their wedding.

The flurry of voices around her became background noise. Forcing a weak smile, Alyssa made up an excuse to leave.

Back at home, she sat silently on her bed and took an old diary from her bedside drawer.

Alyssa was an orphan. She had been alone for as long as she could remember, working parttime jobs to support herself while studying hard.

Despite her hardships, she remained optimistic. In middle school, she earned a place at an elite school as a special admit thanks to her outstanding grades.

She kept to herself most of the time, preferring to study quietly. Even when others mocked her humble origins, she would calmly retort, "I can live just fine on my own without those things."

She had never hoped for friends—until Ivan entered her life.

A notorious playboy and heir to a powerful family, Ivan was the last person Alyssa would believe capable of falling for her.

Yet, against all odds, he proved her wrong.

Unlike the typical wealthy suitor flaunting their wealth, Ivan worked by her side at the small diner, enduring burns on his hands just to stay close to her.

He never bragged about his privileged background, except for that one time when he stepped in to help her reclaim a stolen competition spot.

It was then that Alyssa’s guarded heart began to soften. Still, she kept reminding herself of the chasm between their worlds.

"He’s only chasing me because he hates losing. The gap between us is insurmountable," she would tell herself repeatedly.

But Ivan’s pursuit didn’t waver. He followed her to university, even giving up the secure future his family had arranged for him.

When his family cut off his financial support, he never once complained. Instead, he juggled parttime jobs and continued surprising her with thoughtful gestures every day.

Through his actions, Ivan conveyed his love for Alyssa, finally winning her over.

Later, Ivan was welcomed back into the McCartney family. But he never thought of leaving her behind. All it took was her saying, "I want a home," for him to meticulously plan a monthlong proposal.

When he slid the ring onto Alyssa's finger, Ivan made a heartfelt promise, "From now on, we are family. I will love you forever, and we will never part."

Those oncebeautiful memories had since shattered, the sharp fragments piercing her heart.

Two months ago, she received a friend request on Instagram. After accepting it, she found the person’s timeline filled with photos of a happy couple. At first, she thought the girl was lucky to have such a loving partner. But then she realized that the man in those photos was Ivan.

Without her knowing, Ivan had placed her in the role of his wife while reserving the role of lover for someone else.

What she once believed to be cherished memories now felt like shackles weighing her down.

Alyssa let out a bitter laugh. This diary, which had once been filled with countless moments of their love, now bore her sorrow as she picked up the pen and wrote.

[Ivan has fallen for someone else. I’m heartbroken. This is the first time I’ve forgiven him.]

They had been together for eight years, and Alyssa decided to give him eight chances. Once those chances were used up, she would leave.

Before Alyssa could put the diary away, the door opened, and Ivan walked in.

His forehead glistened with sweat, and he looked visibly anxious. As he approached, a strong, overwhelming scent of rose perfume wafted toward her, making her frown. She couldn’t handle strong fragrances—they gave her headaches.

Noticing her discomfort, Ivan quickly took off his jacket and stepped back. His expression was filled with concern. "Aly, you scared me. I thought something had happened to you. I couldn’t get through to your phone or reach you through messages."

“Or... are you still upset that I couldn’t go with you to try on the wedding dresses? I really didn’t expect the investors to visit the office today. This project is crucial, and you know that.”

Alyssa nodded calmly and showed him her poweredoff phone. "I forgot to charge it."

She didn’t expose his lie. In reality, when he had texted her about being stuck at work, she had instinctively checked that girl’s timeline.

There were two new updates.

One read: [I wore rosescented perfume today, and my boyfriend coincidentally brought me a bouquet of roses, too!]

The other one was, [No need for heating pads when I have my personal heater.] Alongside the heading was a photo of a hand resting on her abdomen. On the man's wrist was a watch that Alyssa immediately recognized as the birthday gift she had given to Ivan during their first year together.

It wasn’t an expensive brand, but it had cost her an entire month’s worth of parttime wages. At the time, he had been overjoyed and promised, "I’ll wear this forever. I’ll never take it off."

Even after returning to the McCartney family, he hadn’t replaced it with a more luxurious watch.

He still cared about her, but not in the same way as before.

Ivan didn’t notice anything unusual about her demeanor. Relieved, he let out a long sigh and smiled warmly.

"How did the wedding dresses look? Why didn’t you send me any pictures? I’ve been waiting all day! Or... was there nothing you liked?" He looked a bit crestfallen, like a puppy left out in the rain, his head hanging low.

Alyssa forced a smile, swallowing her sadness.

"I loved them. Of course, I’d like something you designed yourself. I didn’t send photos because I wanted to save the best surprise for the wedding day."

Ivan’s dark eyes lit up instantly. Sensing that the perfume scent had faded, he stepped closer and pulled Alyssa into a tight embrace.

"Then I’ll have to wait half a month, anxiously anticipating it. It's heartwrenching, but whatever you decide, I’ll support it." Ivan sighed.

"What’s that in your hand?" His gaze fell on the notebook, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes as he reached to open it. However, Alyssa stopped him.

"You can’t see it yet. It’s a surprise for our wedding day," she casually made up an excuse.

Hearing this, Ivan froze for a moment before letting out a wistful sigh. "I’m getting more excited about our wedding every day. I can’t believe I’m about to marry such a beautiful treasure."

Alyssa’s eyes stung with unshed tears, but she held them back, remaining silent.

Once Ivan went to shower, Alyssa reopened the notebook and wrote.

[Ivan broke his promise for another woman. I’m upset. This is the second time I’ve forgiven him.]

'He didn’t know I didn’t even try on the wedding dress. Ivan, will we really make it to that wedding?' she thought.

The next morning, as Alyssa came downstairs, she saw Ivan busy in the kitchen, wearing an apron.

It was a promise he had made long ago after discovering she often skipped breakfast and worried about her stomach. He vowed to make her breakfast every day for the rest of their lives.

Back then, Alyssa believed everything he said. Now, she wasn’t so sure they had a "lifetime" together.

"Alyssa, you’re awake! Breakfast will be ready soon. I made your favorite soup today."

"After we eat, we might need to visit the ancestral family house. Since we’re getting married, my mom has finally compromised. She wants to meet you."

Ivan wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her forehead, watching her expression closely. "If you really don’t want to go, we don’t have to."

Alyssa hesitated, her thoughts drifting to the year Ivan had fallen out with his family.

At that time, his mother had come to see her. She hadn’t spoken a word, but the resentment in her gaze had been unmistakable.

"It’s fine. Let’s go. I don’t mind." Alyssa felt a twinge of guilt toward Giselle, Ivan's mother. After all, she had occupied her son’s life for so many years. Meeting her one more time didn’t seem like a big deal.

Ivan’s joy was evident. He kissed her cheek, promising, "Don’t worry, I’ve got everything planned. I won’t let my mom make things difficult for you."

Alyssa responded with a simple hummed, and ate the breakfast Ivan had prepared under his watchful care.

When they arrived at the McCartney family home, his mother was already waiting. Ivan placed the gift bag he was holding in front of her and spoke warmly:

"Mom, I brought Alyssa to see you. She personally picked out this gift for you—you’ll love it."

Alyssa sat stiffly to the side, feeling the weight of Giselle’s gaze. She pressed her lips together, saying nothing.

Her hand suddenly felt warm. Ivan had clasped it tightly, as if reassuring her not to be afraid. She tried pulling away a few times but gave up when he didn’t let go.

During the meal, Ivan was attentive to her every need—serving her dishes, peeling shrimp, and handing her napkins.

When she couldn’t answer one of his mother’s questions, he skillfully deflected it with a joke, smoothing over any awkwardness with a smile.

Perhaps seeing his determination, his mother’s attitude softened slightly by the time they were leaving.

She removed a bracelet from her wrist and handed it to Alyssa.

"This is our family heirloom. Since Ivan has chosen you, I won’t object. From now on, we’re family."

Once, Alyssa had longed to hear those words and to belong to a family. But now, they sounded grating to her ears.

She pushed the bracelet back and replied calmly, "Thank you for your kindness, Madam, but it’s too early for me to accept this."

After all, whether the wedding would happen or not was still uncertain.

Alyssa kept this thought to herself.

The atmosphere turned cold, but Ivan didn’t seem to notice. He casually draped his arm over her shoulder and smiled. "Mom, something this important should be given on the wedding day. It’ll make it more ceremonial."

On the way back, Alyssa leaned back in her seat with her eyes closed. She wasn’t tired; she just found it suffocating to be in the same space as Ivan. They used to talk about everything, but now, they had nothing left to say.

She could feel his gaze on her from time to time but chose to ignore it.

Before long, his phone started ringing. He rejected the call at first, but the persistent ringing continued.

Ivan glanced at her before pulling over to the side of the road.

He adjusted her seat position and retrieved a blanket from the backseat to cover her. Only then did he step out of the car with his phone in hand.

Alyssa stayed awake the entire time, though she kept her eyes closed.

She wasn’t sure if he stepped out to avoid disturbing her or if he was guilty and didn’t want to take the call in front of her.

Turning to look out the window, she saw Ivan standing a short distance away, a sweet smile on his face.

Then, it seemed there was something that had been said on the other end which made his brows furrow slightly. He glanced toward her direction and moved even farther away.

It was half an hour before he returned. Seeing that she was awake, his expression flickered briefly with unease before he quickly masked it.

"There was an urgent matter at work," he explained. "I was worried the call might disturb you, so I stepped out."

"Are you uncomfortable? Don’t worry, we’re almost home."

Alyssa shook her head but didn’t close her eyes again.

Ivan tried to start a conversation, but she only gave perfunctory responses, her disinterest evident.

"Oh, right," he said suddenly. "I forgot to mention—there was an issue with the custom rings. They might be delayed by a few days."

"This company is really unreliable," he added with a tone of frustration, carefully observing her reaction. When he saw her calm expression, he let out a subtle sigh of relief.

But Alyssa’s calm was merely a facade. Without hesitation, she opened Monica’s social media feed.

The latest photo was of a large diamond ring on her finger, with a caption, [A little sweet talk, and it’s mine.]

Even through the screen, Alyssa could sense the smugness radiating from Monica as she flaunted her victory.

Alyssa's face turned pale as waves of grief washed over her.

This ring had been her design for their wedding, one she had eagerly anticipated wearing herself. But now, it had been handed over to someone else.

'Ivan, you’re a liar,' she muttered mentally. She no longer wanted the ring—or him.

In her heart, she silently noted. [This is the third time I’ve forgiven him.]

When they arrived home, Alyssa got out of the car without looking back. She hadn’t walked far when Ivan caught up and pulled her into an embrace.

"Alyssa, have I done something to upset you recently?" he asked. "I feel like you’ve been different lately."

He feigned innocence, but his eyes betrayed his probing intent.

Alyssa met his gaze directly. Unwilling to tangle with him any further, she countered with a question of her own.

"Do you understand your father better now?"

Seeing his confusion, she elaborated, "Three years ago, your father left everything behind to divorce your mother for another woman. You were furious then, unable to comprehend how he could betray your mom despite treating her so well. But now?"

The hand resting on her shoulder stiffened abruptly.

Ivan was silent for a long time before he finally replied, "He only saw my mother as family. His care for her came from a sense of responsibility, not love. Leaving was a form of liberation for both of them."

"What about us? Will we end up like that?" Alyssa asked and stared directly into Ivan's face, determined not to miss even the slightest change in his expression.

Deep down, though, she already knew the answer.

"No, we won’t. I’m not my father. I will always love you, Alyssa." Ivan denied the possibility without hesitation, his expression one of wounded pride, tinged with faint sorrow.

'But Ivan, you already have,' she answered inwardly.

Alyssa swallowed her sadness. She knew she wouldn’t get the truth from him, so she chose not to press further.

After taking her back to the bedroom, Ivan left, saying he needed to work in the study. What he was really doing, Alyssa neither knew nor cared.

She lay in bed, closing her eyes in a futile attempt to sleep. But no matter how hard she tried, rest wouldn’t come.

The place that once brought her security and happiness now felt suffocating.

She heard the bedroom door open softly. Ivan approached, placing a light kiss on her forehead before tucking her in. Then, he left.

Moments later, the sound of a car engine outside completely shattered her hopes of sleep.

Sitting up in bed, she stared blankly at her phone. Ten minutes passed before her screen lit up with an incessant stream of notifications—not from social media this time, but from direct messages.

Her fingers hovered over a photo for a long while. She knew opening it would reveal something she didn’t want to face, but she forced herself to tap it anyway.

One glance, and her stomach churned violently. She rushed to the bathroom, vomiting in anguish.

But the images were seared into her mind, refusing to leave.

As if the photos weren’t enough, messages continued to flood in, now including videos.

The sound in the videos was even more damning than the pictures.

Ivan’s voice, laced with excitement, and the subtle movement of his Adam’s apple left no room for denial.

Alyssa couldn’t bear to listen any longer. She exited the app, trembling.

It took her a long time to lift her head and face the mirror, staring at her pale and gaunt reflection.

She couldn’t reconcile the man with strange desires in the videos with the gentle, considerate person she thought she knew.

A memory from early in their relationship suddenly surfaced.

One time, Ivan had taken her to a party at a bar. During the evening, a drunken man, completely out of control, began causing a scene. His aggressive behavior startled her, and she wanted to leave, but the man blocked her path.

His lecherous eyes roamed over her as he sneered, "You’re a pretty one, but too uptight. Let me teach you how to loosen up."

That was the moment Ivan returned. Hearing the man’s words, he immediately stepped between them, shielding her and glaring at the offender.

When the man refused to back down, Ivan grabbed a bottle from the table and smashed it over his head.

The scene was terrifying. Alyssa had to intervene, fearing things would escalate further.

As they left the bar, the man shouted after them, "Ivan, stop pretending you’re different! You’re just like us—if anything, you’re worse!"

Alyssa had heard every word, and the ride home was marked by an unsettling silence.

Sensing her discomfort, Ivan had repeatedly apologized and assured her, "Alyssa, trust me. I’m not like that. I would never do such things."

"I didn’t know he was that kind of person. I promise I’ll never associate with him again."

Though her instincts told her something was off, his sincerity eventually softened her heart.

But now, in the dead of night, she could no longer ignore the truth staring back at her.

After that incident, Ivan indeed stopped associating with those people and was very respectful of her boundaries in their relationship. Over time, Alyssa gradually forgot about it.

Looking back now, the rumors of his playboy past didn’t come out of nowhere. Perhaps he hadn’t directed those tendencies toward her, but what about others? Was Monica the first?

A wave of nausea washed over her, goosebumps prickling her skin. Ivan had lied to her yet again—this time not just with empty promises, but with something filthy.

Returning to her bedside, Alyssa pulled out her diary and carefully recorded the third and fourth betrayals.

Monica’s messages had stopped coming. No doubt the two of them were too engrossed in their games to bother with her.

Closing her diary, she opened an app on her phone to manage her daily messages. One private message stood out.

[Congratulations on your upcoming wedding with the person you love! But I have to ask, will you still update your relationship series?]

Alyssa didn’t respond. Scrolling down, she found more messages asking the same question.

Years ago, when online storytelling began to surge in popularity, Alyssa had seized the opportunity to share her and Ivan’s love story. The serialized posts chronicled every detail of their journey together.

The stark contrast between their backgrounds—an ordinary girl and a man from a wealthy family—had captivated readers. Early on, some skeptics mocked her, calling it “a Cinderella fantasy written on her deathbed.”

But when their relationship became public, and she confirmed the story was autobiographical, the derision transformed into widespread admiration. When she announced her engagement recently, her comment section had been flooded with heartfelt congratulations from fans.

Now, though, the praise felt hollow.

She knew her fans cherished the raw sincerity of her story. But now, she couldn’t bring herself to perpetuate the lie.

After a long moment of hesitation, she posted an announcement.

[This account will cease updates permanently starting today. All previous content will be deleted soon. Thank you to everyone who supported and enjoyed my work. Perhaps we’ll meet again someday, somewhere.]

Ignoring the immediate influx of private messages asking for an explanation, she began deleting the posts one by one. There were thousands.

With each deletion, scenes from her relationship with Ivan replayed in her mind. Once, his love for her had been real. Now, his infidelity was just as real.

Midway through her task, the door suddenly burst open.

Ivan stormed in, his presence cold and intense, his whole body trembling. "Alyssa, why are you deleting the content from that account?"

Alyssa froze. She had never told Ivan about the account. How did he know?

Looking him straight in the eye, she asked calmly, “When did you find out about this account?”

His face went pale, his gaze faltering. After a long pause, he finally admitted, “I found it while I was pursuing you.”

“But that’s not important,” he quickly added, his voice tinged with grievance. “What matters is that this account records our love story. It’s precious. Why are you deleting it?”

There was something in his tone—a mix of hurt and indignation—that made her uneasy.

So he had known about the account while he was chasing her. That meant he had seen all her vulnerabilities and doubts laid bare.

Had everything he’d done after that been genuine? Or carefully calculated?

Alyssa didn’t dare delve too deeply into the truth.

Swallowing her pain, she suppressed her emotions and looked at him again, her expression calm and composed.

“There’s no special reason,” she said evenly. “I’ve been too busy to keep up with it, and it’s been weighing on my mind. Deleting it will be one less thing to worry about.”

Hearing her response, Ivan breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped forward, pulling Alyssa into a tight embrace, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Let’s keep it, okay? These are the records of our love. If you don’t have time to manage it, I can find someone to take care of the account for you.”

“Just think—when we’re old, sitting by the lake, looking back at these memories, it’ll make us so happy.”

He was still weaving dreams of their future together, completely unaware that he had already destroyed it with his own hands.

Alyssa mocked him silently in her heart, mentally marking this as the fifth betrayal. Outwardly, she nodded in agreement, knowing that if she didn’t, Ivan would become suspicious. All she could do now was pray he would use up all eight of his chances quickly so she could finally walk away.

Breaking free from his embrace, she sneezed lightly and feigned curiosity.

“Where did you go just now? Why is there such a chill clinging to you?”

Ivan immediately looked aggrieved, like a puppy seeking comfort. He sighed.

“There was an urgent issue at the office, so I had to go out and handle it. It’s such a pity—I didn’t get to hold my baby while sleeping tonight.”

“But you’re my top priority. The moment I received your message, I dropped everything and rushed back. Nothing is more important than you.”

His affectionate words flowed effortlessly, accompanied by an Oscarworthy performance. No wonder he had fooled her for so many years.

In the days that followed, Ivan took her casual remark about being “busy” to heart. He personally handled all the arrangements for their upcoming wedding. When the wedding planners came to discuss details at their home, he suggested various ideas that catered to her preferences—everything from the color scheme of the venue and nighttime fireworks to the type of flowers and even the texture of the carpet to ensure it wouldn’t trip her up.

Alyssa occasionally came downstairs to observe, only to be swept into his arms, fussed over, and fed fruit. The wedding planning team often cast her envious glances, commenting, “President McCartney and Miss Saunders share such a beautiful relationship. His love for her is written all over his face.”

“Miss Saunders, you’re so lucky. Men like President McCartney—handsome, wealthy, and devoted—are rare. He’ll surely make a great father someday, too.”

Hearing this, Ivan furrowed his brows, a hint of disapproval in his expression.

“You’ve got it wrong. I’m the lucky one—lucky that Alyssa chose me.”

“As for children, that’s entirely up to her. She’s afraid of pain, and I would never force her.”

A wave of flattery followed his words, but no one noticed Alyssa’s indifferent expression throughout, as if she were merely an outsider.

After sitting with them for a while, she found the noise unbearable and quietly retreated to her room.

An hour later, Ivan entered the room, wrapping his arms around her and acting spoiled.

“Aly, there’s a friend’s birthday party tonight. Will you come with me? I want to introduce you to the people in my circle.”

Alyssa had never liked such occasions. Even after years with Ivan, she still felt out of place among his social circle.

Just as she was about to decline, Ivan nuzzled into her embrace, his eyes shimmering with faux tears.

“Please, Aly. Everyone else will be bringing their partners. If I go alone, I’ll look so pitiful.”

The words she was about to say caught in her throat. After a moment’s hesitation, she reminded herself that she hadn’t left him entirely yet. For now, she still had to keep up appearances.

Seeing her nod in agreement, Ivan’s face lit up with joy. He waved his hand, and a professional styling team filed into the room.

Gorgeous, expensive jewelry and designer outfits dazzled her. Alyssa didn’t resist, allowing the team to work on her. Occasionally, she nodded to indicate her approval, though her interest was minimal.

When they arrived at the party, hand in hand, all eyes turned to them.

There was no denying that Ivan had never skimped on money when it came to her. If she cared only about wealth, she could easily turn a blind eye to everything that had happened recently. But she didn’t. What she sought was love and affection.

Ivan held her hand as he greeted various guests. Whenever someone asked about her identity, he would answer without hesitation, “My beloved, Alyssa Saunders. Also, my fiancée.”

He was attentive to her every move. When people offered her drinks, he would intercept them. “She doesn’t drink. I’ll take her place.”

He was meticulous to the point that even when she shifted her foot slightly, he noticed immediately, his voice full of concern, “Are your heels uncomfortable?”

Without waiting for her reply, he carried her to a sofa, removed her shoes, and began massaging her feet. He seemed oblivious to how such a gesture might appear, given his status.

Jealous glances were cast their way from all around, but Alyssa felt nothing but unease.

To everyone else, his actions screamed love and devotion. But only she knew the truth—he had changed. That knowledge felt stifling.

Pulling her feet away, Alyssa said lightly, “I’m fine now. Go ahead and talk to them. I’ll just sit here for a while.”

Ivan hesitated but eventually relented under her insistence. While he engaged a group of business associates in conversation, his eyes frequently darted back to her, as if afraid she might vanish if left unattended.

Just as he was finishing, a woman stepped into his path, holding a glass of wine. “President McCartney, I’d like to propose a toast.”

Her posture was deliberate, accentuating her curvaceous figure. But Ivan’s expression remained cold as he declined her offer.

Alyssa observed the scene from afar, feeling a pang she couldn’t quite describe.

So, he could say no. Then why couldn’t he say no to Monica?

The thought puzzled her, and she decided it wasn’t worth pondering anymore.

Some guests, seeing her sitting alone, approached her, attempting to strike up a conversation. She responded perfunctorily at first, but as more people came, her patience waned.

Rising from her seat without a word, she headed for the exit.

Ivan, who had been keeping an eye on her the entire time, caught up quickly. “Are you tired, Aly? Let me take you home.”

“No need. You stay and handle your business. I can manage on my own,” Alyssa replied, trying to withdraw her hand from his grasp. But his grip remained firm.

“The driver didn’t come with us. I can’t let you go back alone. I’ll take you.” His tone left no room for argument, so she didn’t press further and silently got into the passenger seat.

They had only driven halfway when his phone began to ring incessantly. He glanced at the screen and rejected the call. But the caller was persistent, trying again and again.

By the tenth call, Ivan shot her a quick glance, then answered, this time holding the phone to his ear without enabling the speaker.

The sharp sound of brakes suddenly filled the air as he pulled the car over to the side of the road.

Alyssa watched his expression shift from calm to alarmed, a rare sight for her. Curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he replied, feigning nonchalance. “It’s just Peter. He’s upset I left early and is threatening to end our friendship if I don’t go back.”

Peter was the birthday host for tonight’s event.

Though Ivan’s words seemed plausible, his uneasy expression told another story. Alyssa suspected this had less to do with Peter and more to do with Monica.

Ignoring his protests, she got out of the car and shut the door behind her.

“Go back. Don’t let this ruin your friendships. I’ll be fine on my own.”

After so many years together, how could she not recognize that his heart was tipping further away from her?

Without sparing him another glance, Alyssa walked away. Her shoes rubbed painfully against her heels, but she didn’t stop, counting silently in her head.

This was the sixth time.

It wasn’t until Ivan drove away that Alyssa found a random spot to sit down. She repeatedly refreshed Monica’s social media feed.

For a moment, she despised herself—spying on someone else’s happiness like a voyeur. Happiness that should have been hers.

Fifteen minutes later, a new post appeared: a photo of Ivan holding Monica. This time, her face wasn’t even obscured—clearly, Monica didn’t care to hide anymore.

Then came the next photo, and with it, the reason for Monica’s boldness became clear.

She was pregnant.

Alyssa’s face went pale. She zoomed in on the ultrasound picture, repeatedly confirming the details. Tears fell onto her phone screen as she let out a suppressed, anguished cry, her pain echoing in the night.

She didn’t know how long she sat there. Barefoot, she trudged back home, her soles scraped and bleeding from the gravel, but she felt no pain.

What physical pain could compare to the ache in her heart?

Back home, she carefully recorded the sixth and seventh betrayals in her diary. Closing the book, she decided—it was time to start packing.

Ivan didn’t return until the next morning, carrying a box of her favorite pastries.

“Aly, I drank too much with them last night. I didn’t want to disturb your rest, so I stayed at Peter’s place,” he lied without batting an eyelid.

“Peter messaged you late last night. Did you see it?”

Alyssa nodded without exposing his lie. If he chose to hide the truth, she wasn’t going to be the one to spoil his pretense. She just hoped that when all the lies unraveled, he’d be able to withstand the fallout.

Taking a bite of the pastry, the familiar taste filled her mouth, but it felt bland and empty. Placing it back down, she forced a bitter smile. What she loved had never been the pastries—it was the person who brought them to her.

“Aly, why are you packing?”

Turning around, she saw Ivan standing behind her, his expression cold and his eyes sharp, as if he could see right through her.

Avoiding his gaze, she replied calmly, “We’re getting married soon. This is our marital home. It needs some organizing, and the things we don’t need should be thrown away.”

Including the people who no longer mattered.

Hearing this, Ivan visibly relaxed and pulled her into his arms. “Let the housekeepers take care of it. If you hurt yourself, I’ll feel heartbroken.”

Alyssa wriggled free from his embrace, smiling faintly at him. “Then you have a lot of things to feel sorry for.”

Her smile unsettled him—it looked cheerful, but there was no joy in it. Ivan instinctively reached for her hand, but before he could, his phone rang.

Glancing at the screen, he rushed to answer, stepping toward the window. Alyssa stared at his back for a long moment, lost in thought.

Ivan would never know that last night, she had received not only Peter’s text covering for him but also Monica’s barrage of taunting messages—an outright attempt to oust her.

The messages were bold and cutting.

[Alyssa, how long do you plan to pretend you don’t know and marry a man who doesn’t love you anymore?]

[You’ve seen it. I’m carrying Ivan’s child. That gives me a trump card you don’t have. What makes you think you can compete with me?]

[If I were you, I’d pack up, take the money, and leave. Otherwise, when this all blows up, you’ll end up with nothing.]

Those messages had weighed heavily on her heart since the moment she read them. It was only this morning that she felt the burden begin to lift.

She had foolishly thought Ivan might come back and propose ending things with her. But now, it seemed Monica wasn’t as important to him as she thought.

A short while later, Ivan returned to the room. He gently patted the top of her head, the gesture almost comforting, as if trying to soothe her.

“There’s an issue with the flowers for the wedding. I’ll need to head to Netherlands to oversee things personally—it’ll take a few days.”

Alyssa paused. The flowers for their wedding were her favorite tulips, which were indeed hard to find this time of year in the local market. But she had a nagging feeling this wasn’t the real reason.

Reaching out, she gently tugged on Ivan’s sleeve and whispered, “Can you not go? The flowers can be replaced with something else.”

She didn’t even know why she made such a request. Perhaps it was her unwillingness to let go of the years they had spent together.

Ivan’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he hesitated. After a moment’s silence, he shook his head. “Aly, I don’t want your wedding to have any regrets. You deserve the best.”

“Is it because you can’t bear to see me leave? Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. I’ll call you every day.”

Alyssa’s hand fell slowly, her emotions hidden behind a soft smile. “Then go. Come back soon.”

Ivan pushed aside a flicker of unease in his heart. He kissed her forehead, then turned and walked away.

Watching his retreating figure, Alyssa could no longer hold back and broke into sobs.

"Ivan, this is the eighth time. You’ve run out of chances," she whispered.

Alyssa left decisively, taking only a few changes of clothes. All the clothes, jewelry, and bank cards Ivan had given her were left behind in a box.

On top of the box sat her diary and the engagement ring he had sent later. She had never tried it on—she had always known they had no future.

The diary was her final explanation, her closure. Unlike him, she could end things clearly and completely.

As the plane took off, Alyssa smiled out the window, silently bidding farewell to her past.

The moment Ivan landed in the Netherlands, he messaged Alyssa, but she didn’t reply.

Assuming she was resting, he tried to focus, but Monica was brimming with excitement. “Ivan, if you promised to spend time with me here, can you at least give it your full attention? This is the last trip for the three of us as a family.”

Her tone carried a trace of sorrow, but her eyes gleamed with malice.

She had purposefully flaunted herself in front of Alyssa and coaxed Ivan into this trip—not because she was confident of replacing Alyssa, but because she was feeling insecure.

When Ivan first found out she was pregnant, his initial joy had quickly turned to insistence that she terminate the pregnancy. No matter how much she pouted or cried, he refused to change his mind.

Unable to convince him, she decided to provoke Alyssa instead. But to her dismay, that wretched woman didn’t react at all.

Desperate to buy time, Monica suggested the trip, hoping to delay things until after the wedding. That was her only chance to achieve her goal.

Ivan, feeling guilty toward her and believing she was still obedient and gentle, agreed without much thought.

As they walked, Monica snatched his phone and slipped it into her pocket, playfully demanding, “From now on, your time belongs to me and our baby. Think only about us, or I’ll get mad.”

Ivan sighed, nodding absentmindedly as he thought about the baby. But anyone could see his mind was elsewhere.

When his calls and messages to Alyssa continued to go unanswered, a deep unease began to creep into his heart. Remembering her recent odd behavior, the fear only grew.

That fear reached its peak when his friend informed him that Alyssa wasn’t home. Without hesitation, he booked the next flight back.

Monica cried and tried to stop him, but he shoved her away. She stumbled, her stomach hitting the edge of the table, and let out a pained scream.