Back home, An Chuchu fished the crumpled note out of the trash bin.

After that night, she hadn’t returned to the family apartment—too ashamed to face her sister. Instead, she’d rented a small place near her company. That night, as she packed her things, she’d crumpled the note in her hand and absentmindedly tossed it into the bathroom wastebasket.

She never intended to contact the man. The thought of losing control and murdering him terrified her, but even more, she feared seeing a hideous, vomit-inducing hag when they met.

Thankfully, the bathroom hadn’t been cleaned in two months. The trash bin remained untouched, and the note was still there.

An Chuchu unfolded it—but fate was cruel. Days of relentless rain had seeped through an open window, soaking the wastebasket. The last three digits of the phone number were now a blurry smear.

She could only gamble. After dialing variations more than a dozen times, she got nothing but dead air or voicemail.

Returning to the bathroom, she silently dropped the note into the toilet bowl and watched it flush away.

At twenty-three, in the prime of her youth, with her career finally gaining traction—this was no time to have a child, especially one that would grow up without a father.

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

That same day, she made up her mind. She called her best friend, who helped her secure an appointment at a private clinic for a painless procedure. Then she took a week’s leave from work.

Miscarriage wasn’t something to take lightly. Even a short "mini-sit" after the procedure required at least a week’s recovery.

It had been ages since she’d been home. Descending the stairs, she spotted An Shan on the sofa, flipping through some papers.

An Shan’s face lit up—until she saw An Chuchu. The smile stiffened awkwardly. She closed the folder, set it aside, and rose to her feet with forced concern.

"Chuchu, why are you back? You didn’t tell me. How’s your place? Is it nice?"

Since that night, their sisterly bond had fractured. No more late-night confessions, no more weekend family dinners where they pretended everything was fine. They avoided each other whenever possible.

An Chuchu’s gaze fell on the folder An Shan had been holding. A glossy wedding photo peeked out—the kind with a dramatic, high-end cover. From her angle, she could just make out the edge of a pristine white wedding dress and the hem of a man’s tailored suit.

An Shan and Meng Ting’s wedding photos. They were getting married.

"Looks great," An Chuchu forced a smile, suppressing the twist in her chest. "Winter’s coming. I came to grab some clothes. The photos are beautiful—you look stunning."

An Shan’s face paled. She bit her lip. "Chuchu… I’m sorry. That bride should’ve been you."

An Chuchu shrugged indifferently. "Silly sister."

"You’re my flesh and blood. If you and Meng Ting were married, he’d be my brother-in-law—still part of this family. No matter what, I’d only ever wish you happiness."

She lied through her teeth. This was the man she’d loved for two years. Two years wasn’t short—even a pig raised for that long wouldn’t deserve slaughter.

But how could she blame anyone? An Shan was her sister.

She would never forget the way their mother had clutched her hand, weeping, begging her not to sever ties with An Shan. Not to resent losing her innocence.

Innocence was a joke now. What weighed on her mind was the unwanted life growing inside her.

An Shan looked even more guilt-ridden, gripping her hand. "Chuchu, I’ll never repay your kindness. We’ll always be family."

"Of course. You’ll always be my sister."

An Chuchu descended the stairs, pausing at the door. "Oh, by the way, my company just took on a tough project this week. I won’t be home for Sunday dinner."

An Shan bit her lip, saying nothing.

As An Chuchu reached for the door, her sister called after her, eyes bright with hope. "Our wedding is on the twelfth. Will you be our bridesmaid?"

The twelfth.

The date stabbed at An Chuchu’s heart. It had been her choice—the anniversary of her first date with Meng Ting, the day they’d gotten engaged.

An Shan hadn’t even waited to set a new date. The entire wedding had been planned around An Chuchu’s preferences.

The bride had changed. Naturally, the ceremony had to be adjusted.

No time to dwell on heartbreak. She slipped on her shoes, quickly calculated the timeline, and gave a curt nod. "Sure."