The Wedding That Never Was Chapter 15

In these two years, how many times had Adrian been dragged down from the roof? He couldn't remember.

Someone seemed to have asked him, “Do you feel life is too boring with endless training every day?”

At the time, he poked the other person’s styled hair with his finger, daring not use too much force for fear of messing up the accessories. “But seeing you every day isn't boring at all.”

“Then I’ll buy a house near your base when I make money, okay? That way you can come back anytime, and I can see you from the window.”

He smiled and answered, “Okay, I’ll wait for Miss Vaughn to support me.”

Their best years were soaked in happiness every minute.

But later, watching the people coming and going around Ilara in the fame game, he became more and more silent.

His coldness was like a blade, cutting open Ilara’s thin skin again and again, carving out her pain and tears.

Using this to prove he was irreplaceable in Ilara’s heart.

Once, he was truly proud of this.

But he forgot that the human heart is fragile. How could it withstand such fickle blades?

After Ilara left, he thought about this question again and got a new answer:

Life without Ilara was so boring he wanted to die.

Adrian stepped forward, trying to simulate the inches Ilara had walked, only to be pulled down again.

After being severely reprimanded by the police, Adrian walked down without a word.

It didn't matter. There were always other ways to die.

This building where Ilara jumped seemed to be his favorite.

Every time he looked down from the top, he felt the nervousness of preparing for a date with Ilara.

Yet he would hesitate, worried she wouldn't want to see him.

Until he was dragged down again.

After Ilara’s incident, control over this building and the entire community tightened. Not just security guards, but police patrols marked this area as a priority.

He went downstairs numbly.

The floor below the roof was the apartment they used to rent, the one where Ilara waited from dawn to dusk but never saw him.

The owner was Ilara herself. Since she “died,” no one but Adrian had been there.

For two years, it remained exactly as it was.

But when he first came back here, he saw a strawberry cake on the table... and a thin letter.

The cake had sat for a long time. The smell of spoiled cream was like disgusting foam, but he ate it all.

When the expected pain came from his stomach, he thought: Can this cancel out the glass of alcohol Ilara drank with her stomach illness?

Probably not. After all, he volunteered. Ilara was forced by him.

At that moment, he finally understood the meaning of Sarah’s expression.

She thought she had defeated her boyfriend’s ex and was smug about it.

And he only took care of her because she was the neighbor’s little sister, as ordered.

But no one told him that to survive a business crisis, his parents had sold him off under the guise of an arranged marriage.

Sold to the Jenkins’ youngest daughter, who had liked him since childhood.

Transferring Sarah to his team, shopping with her, telling him Sarah was being bullied so he’d help...

Even saving Sarah when she accidentally fell into the water and taking her to a hotel to change—it was all a script arranged by them to foster feelings.

Adrian finished the whole spoiled cake.

He had been kicked in the stomach countless times by opponents in training. This little pain was nothing.

So he smiled as he read the letter Ilara left him.

After reading it word by word, he stood on the edge of the roof for the first time.

From here, he looked at the city Ilara had seen.

Adrian saw the San Diego Naval Base in the distance. His training ground was in the center of his vision.