I Watched Our Love Wither

For some reason, be it guilt or something else, Isabelle actually stayed home for the entire day. She even cooked a full spread herself.

While we were eating, my advisor, Professor Patrick White, sent me a message. I meant to convert it to text, but I accidentally hit play instead.

"Your application has been approved, Nathan. You can depart on the 11th."

Isabelle keenly caught the keywords. "What application? Are you transferring somewhere else?"

I calmly explained, "No. My colleague asked for my help with submitting an application for him. My advisor probably mistook it for mine."

I casually typed "Okay" and sent the message before putting my phone down.

Isabelle scooped up some food and placed it on my plate. She sounded somewhat regretful as she said, "Then your colleague wouldn't be able to attend our wedding. You should hand him the wedding favor in advance when you see him."

I smiled bitterly to myself.

It wasn't just my colleague who wouldn't be attending the wedding. I wouldn't be attending it either.

…

The next morning, Isabelle woke up early to get ready and dragged me out of bed. I looked at the calendar in confusion, unable to recall what was special about today.

She tapped my head lightly with a makeup brush. "Silly. Did you forget that we'll be taking our wedding photos today?"

I would've almost forgotten about the wedding photos myself if Isabelle hadn't mentioned it.

I had originally planned to surprise her and book this extremely popular photo studio half a year in advance. When she found out, she scolded me for making my decisions on my own, saying that taking photos like that was pointless and a waste of money.

For a while, I even blamed myself for not understanding her feelings.

But later, I found a stack of photos of Isabelle and Shawn in various styles behind her trophy.

So it wasn't that she refused to take photos like that. She just didn't want to take them with me.

But this studio didn't allow cancellations, so the matter was left unresolved to the point that it completely slipped my mind.

…

On our way there, Isabelle hesitated before saying, "Shawn wants to be the best man at our wedding."

A mocking smile appeared on my face. So the reason she'd agreed to take wedding photos with me was just to get my approval for Shawn to be the best man.

But I didn't care anymore. He could be the groom for all I cared.

"Sure. I'll leave it up to you," I said.

Isabelle's face lit up instantly. She continued, "Since he's my stage partner, his best man's suit can't be the same as the others. And it can't be cheap either. It should be about the same quality as your suit."

She might as well have just told me to give Shawn the groom's suit instead.

I nodded. "Alright. I'll custom order one for him later."

When we arrived at the pre-booked venue, Isabelle received a phone call. Her expression turned serious, and her eyes stayed fixed on her phone.

I asked her what was wrong, but she quickly hid her phone behind her back and pushed me away irritably.

She snapped, "Can you stop being so possessive? Am I not even allowed to talk to my friends normally? Go get your makeup done first. I'll come in a bit."

But Isabelle didn't show up once everything was ready, and her phone went unanswered.

The staff looked at each other helplessly, unsure what to do. It was also the photographer's first time encountering such a situation.

He glanced at me cautiously, worried that I might lose my temper. "Are we still continuing with the shoot?"

But I remained calm, having expected this outcome. Earlier, Isabelle's phone screen had shown her chat with Shawn.

"Let's continue. It would be a shame not to take photos in such a beautiful place," I replied.

After all, I would be leaving this city soon. These photos would be my last memories.

Since Isabelle had taken the car, I had to ride back in the equipment truck afterward. I looked completely disheveled, squeezed between piles of shooting gear.

Still, I was grateful they gave me a ride. Otherwise, I had no idea how long it would've taken me to get down the mountain in such a remote place.

After I got home, I contacted the editor for the wedding video. "Sorry, but the groom for the wedding has changed. I'll have to trouble you to re-edit the video."

Then I sent over more than 10 gigabytes of videos and photo materials.

To my surprise, the editor replied quickly. "These two are the real couple, right? The previous pair looked like they had a grudge against each other. There's so much distance between them in every photo—no chemistry whatsoever. It was a nightmare to edit!"

Even a stranger could tell who Isabelle was truly close to. Did she really not realize it herself?