My Fiancé Planned 33 Accidents

Sylvia did not get home until very late. Rain began to fall on her way back, and by the time she arrived, she was soaked to the skin.

When she opened the door, Victor was already home. She did not spare him a glance and headed straight for the stairs. She had just reached the bottom step when a bath towel wrapped around her from behind.

"Why didn't you call me to pick you up? You're completely drenched." Victor's voice carried a note of concern.

A trace of sarcasm flickered in her eyes. 'Would you have come if I did?'

Sylvia slapped his hand away and went upstairs. She took a shower. When she came out, Victor stood in the room with a bowl of soup, gently blowing on it to cool it.

In truth, Victor was a responsible man. Otherwise, he would not have taken care of her for more than ten years. He was so responsible that she had mistaken responsibility for love.

When he noticed her, he pulled her down to sit on the bed and fed her spoon by spoon. "Is it still hot? Drink it while it's warm. The wedding's coming up. You can't afford to catch a cold."

Sylvia lowered her eyes and finished the soup in silence. She watched his back as he left the room. Inside her, everything was utterly still.

'Victor… As you wish, there won't be a wedding.'

…

The next day, Sylvia went to the immigration office to apply for a visa.

As she walked out of the building, she ran straight into Victor and a group of interns under his supervision.

He glanced at the office behind her and frowned slightly. "What are you doing here?"

She replied calmly, "Someone in my band is going abroad. I came to help with the paperwork."

He did not ask anything further. No matter how hard he tried, he would never imagine that the one leaving the country was her.

One of the interns spoke up. "We're having a group dinner tonight. Mrs. Rothwell, come with us."

"Let's go," Victor added. "We'll head home together later."

They ended up at a smokehouse.

The first thing Sylvia did was look at Victor. In the past, whenever she asked him to eat barbecue with her, he always refused, saying the smoke and smell were too strong.

"That's strange," an intern beside them said with her arms crossed. "Why would Dr. Rothwell come to a place like this?"

Another smiled with quiet certainty. "Because Rach likes it. Not just barbecue. Tacos, street stalls, anything. As long as Rach likes it, Dr. Rothwell will go with her."

Sylvia lowered her eyes and gave a faint, self-mocking smile. She said nothing.

After they went inside, everyone naturally arranged for Victor and Rachel to sit together. Only then did someone seem to remember Sylvia.

"Oh, sorry. I forgot Mrs. Rothwell was here too," the intern said, sounding surprised. "Dr. Rothwell always sits with Rach at group dinners. You won't mind, right?"

A fine, needle-like pain spread through Sylvia's chest. She shook her head, kept her composure, and took a seat across from them. From there, everything lay in plain view.

Victor tied an apron around Rachel and moved with practiced ease. He remembered every one of her preferences and mixed her dipping sauce just the way she liked it. He barely touched his own food, devoting his attention to her instead.

Sylvia tightened her grip on her fork and stared down at her plate, her gaze unfocused.

At last, Victor seemed to notice her silence. He casually picked up some food and set it on her plate. "Eat more."

She looked down. 'Sesame-coated mushrooms…'

A bitter smile brushed her lips as she nudged them aside. She had been allergic to sesame since childhood. Once, it had nearly killed her. He had forgotten.

For the rest of the meal, Sylvia kept her head lowered and never once looked at the people seated across from her.

Then Rachel spoke. "Miss Frost, your necklace is so pretty. May I take a look?"

Sylvia instinctively clutched the necklace at her chest and was about to refuse when the person beside her reached out and yanked it from her neck.

"Mrs. Rothwell wouldn't be that petty," the intern said. "Rach, go ahead and look."

Sylvia reached out to stop her and looked at Victor, her voice sharp with alarm. "No!"

Victor frowned, displeased by her tone. "It's just a necklace. What's wrong with letting Rach see it? What did I tell you before?"

How dare he bring up before.

Sylvia watched him reach out to hand the necklace to Rachel and lunged to grab it back.

Rachel reached out as well, as if to refuse. "Since Miss Frost doesn't want to, forget it, Dr. Rothwell…"

The necklace slipped from their hands and fell straight into the charcoal grill. Grease popped, sparks leapt, and heat stung their fingers.

Sylvia panicked and reached in to retrieve it.

The rolling heat seared her skin. With her heightened sensitivity to pain, it felt as though her fingers were being cut off.

In the past, Victor would have rushed to her side at once.

Her head spun from the pain. Acting on instinct, she looked toward him. She saw him holding Rachel's reddened fingers and blowing on them gently.

When Rachel looked close to tears, he took her straight to the hospital. He did not spare Sylvia, who hovered on the edge of collapse, a single glance.

By the time Sylvia recovered enough to stand, the smokehouse was about to close.

She asked the staff to retrieve the necklace from the grill. When she pried open the grease-smeared casing, the ashes inside were gone.

They had burned away, lost to heat and smoke.

Sylvia collapsed to the floor and clutched the necklace. Her raw, broken sobs echoed through the empty restaurant until her voice was completely hoarse.

In this lifetime, she would never forgive Victor.