At My Husband's Wedding, I Caught the Bride's Bouquet

After dinner, Daniel unexpectedly said he needed to go out.

"Clara, you get some rest tonight. I'm heading over to the Morgans'."

"Okay, go ahead."

They were the legitimate couple. I was nothing more than a fake wife, with no right to stop him.

Seeing how straightforward my reply was, Daniel paused for a moment as he opened the door.

"Clara, once Emily safely delivers an heir for both families, I promise to be your husband again, for you alone. Good girl. From then on, all my time will be yours."

He said this while still facing away, his voice as calm as if he were simply stepping out to buy a bottle of water.

Daniel left, the door closing softly behind him—and with it, my heart felt shut as well.

I closed my laptop, packed my luggage, and booked the earliest flight for the next morning.

I glanced at the torn remnants of the fake marriage certificate in the trash, and for the first time, I felt a flicker of relief.

That night, Daniel did not return.

After a four-hour flight, a two-hour bus ride, and another hour on the village shuttle, I finally saw my long-missed parents.

All these years, I had worked tirelessly to repay debts, yet never once let them enjoy a single good day.

My father, gathering crops in the open field, froze for a moment upon seeing me before rushing over.

"Clara! Clara is back!"

My mother came running from the kitchen, and all three of us had tears in our eyes.

"Why didn't any of you call ahead before coming home? So your father could've driven the tricycle to the village entrance to pick you up."

My mother wiped her hands on her apron before tenderly brushing the thin layer of sweat from my forehead.

'Any of you'?

Was someone else coming home today besides me?

But there were only three of us in the family.

"Clara, you're back?"

At that moment, Daniel emerged from the kitchen carrying a plucked goose, smiling at me.

My heart sank, my legs felt cemented to the floor, unable to move even an inch.

A furious mix of being watched and toyed with coursed through me from head to toe.

It was only the long scar from my father's surgery, pressed against my chest, that pulled me back from the brink of losing control.

That night, Daniel held me tightly, his voice catching.

"Clara, if you don't like me touching Emily, I'll tell her I'll only do IVF. Once the child is born, I'll divorce her and make you my legal wife. If you want to see your parents more often, I'll bring them to Riverton. Your father's heart condition will be managed by the best medical team."

I broke free from his embrace, looking at him seriously as I slowly asked, "What if I don't want that?"

"Then I'll cling to you, pester you every day, until you agree," he said.

After speaking, Daniel pulled me back into his arms, the stubble on his chin tickling the hollow of my neck.

"Don't rub against me, your stubble's sharp."

I pushed him away with mock annoyance.

"Well, it's your fault for running off without a word—I didn't even get a chance to shave."

We stayed at my family home for nearly a month. During the day, Daniel helped my parents with fieldwork.

At night, he handled work online and never mentioned going back to Riverton on his own.

Meanwhile, the Morgans called daily, urging him to return, and each time he firmly refused.

The wound in my heart seemed to be slowly healing.

He had his family responsibilities, and I had my decade-long obsession.

In the end, I decided to give him one more chance.