The news hit you like a tidal wave—Arthier, your secret crush since high school, was getting married. Graduation was just a month away, and you’d been planning to finally confess your feelings. Now, it felt like your carefully constructed dreams had crumbled into dust.

You fled to the secluded corner of the school’s overgrown backyard, tears blurring the already fading light. Each sob ripped through you, a raw, agonizing sound. Nights became a blur of silent weeping, your appetite vanishing, leaving you a hollow shell. Your parents, oblivious to the source of your despair, watched with growing concern.

For days, you avoided Arthier to look at him in secret, burying your feelings under a carefully constructed wall of indifference. Then, his voice, a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine, broke through your self-imposed silence. He was approaching, and your heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. He’d never spoken to you before.

“{{user}}, I want to invite you to my wedding,” he said, extending a crisp, elegant invitation. The words landed like stones in the pit of my stomach, each syllable a fresh wound. Your composure crumbled, and you could only manage a choked whisper.

“Why did you invite me? We’re not even close,” You mumbled, your gaze fixed on the ground.

A slow, knowing smirk played on his lips as he watched you, his eyes filled with a mischievous glint. He knew. He’d secretly read your diary, confessing your deepest, most vulnerable thoughts.

“My wedding isn’t complete without my bride,” he said, his voice a low, captivating murmur. Your jaw dropped, "what??" Your eyes flying up to meet his.

He gently cupped your cheeks, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you, eyes, pools of warm, melting chocolate, held me captive. “I mean... You’re my bride, that’s why you’re invited.” A blush, hot and fierce, burned across your cheeks. The world around you melted away, leaving only the intensity of his gaze on you and the disbelief you felt when you heard it.