Things wouldn’t play out the way Ke Fei joked—I knew that much. This three-year relationship, despite its occasional storms, would eventually return to its predetermined path. Whatever happened before was nothing more than insignificant interludes.
Outside the office, Hao Yi’s car was waiting for me.
I got in quickly, buckling my seatbelt as I said, “Let’s go! I have to be back for a meeting at three…”
“Wait, let’s double-check everything first,” Hao Yi said, fastening my seatbelt securely. “Did you bring the household registration booklet?”
“Yes,” I replied, pulling it out from my bag.
“Your ID card?”
“Got it.” I retrieved it from my wallet.
“The marriage registration form?”
“Of course. Fresh off the press!” I said, holding up the form for him to see.
“Wait, why haven’t you signed it yet?” Hao Yi asked, noticing the blank space.
“Oh! I forgot again. I’ll do it right now…” I rummaged through my bag but realized I didn’t have what I needed. “Oh no, I forgot to bring a pen.”
“I’ve got one.” Hao Yi reached into his suit jacket and handed me a pen.
“Thanks!” I took the pen, watching as he started the car and merged into the inner lane.
The sky was clear, not a single cloud in sight, though the windshield didn’t quite capture the full expanse. As the car ascended the overpass, I stared out the window at the rows of streetlights passing by, and a memory surfaced: that night when Chu Ke Huan drove me.
It was on that night that I abandoned all inner struggles and kissed him, finally confronting my desires head-on.
No! Today was my wedding day with Hao Yi. Every year from now on, we’d celebrate this anniversary together. I shouldn’t be thinking about that night.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus.
My gaze returned to the marriage registration form in front of me—everything was in place: the groom’s signature, the witness signatures, all the required information filled out. Only the bride’s signature field remained blank. With just one stroke of the pen and a visit to the household registration office, my partner’s name would be added to the spouse column on my ID card. Legally bound, we would take on the rights and responsibilities of a married couple.
But if I signed, could I convince myself that this marriage was truly what I wanted, rather than something I might wake up one morning regretting—a rash decision dictated by the absurdity of marrying to dispel mourning?
I can do this. After all, Hao Yi and I had already planned to get married. This was just accelerating the timeline while simplifying the wedding process. Hao Yi wouldn’t even need to travel for work anymore. There was nothing absurd about this.
If I signed, would I then be able to face Chu Ke Huan again someday, feeling calm and unaffected, immune to temptation?
I can do this. Marriage was a legal boundary, a wall that would block every inappropriate thought the moment it stirred. That kind of structure was exactly what I needed.
So, if I signed, could I forget everything that happened with Chu Ke Huan—ignore the betrayal of both my body and soul—and enter this marriage with peace of mind?
I can do this. It’s over between Chu Ke Huan and me. As long as neither of us says a word, it will remain a secret forever. He’s moving toward a marriage with Gao Zi Yuan; why shouldn’t I do the same?
But…
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