Chapter 1Bald Before the Altar

The bald head reflected in the mirror completely sent me over the edge. This was the sight that greeted me the morning before my wedding, as I woke from a deep sleep.

The culprit, Chelsea, was primping her eye-catching curly hair, sticking out her tongue and saying casually, "Just a slip of the hand, no hard feelings, right, Lena?"

She even exaggeratedly covered her mouth. "Oh no, poor Lena! The bride’s going to be bald!"

But Roman acted as if nothing had happened, reaching out to playfully tap her nose, laughing it off. "Just wear a wig, problem solved."

He even twisted the knife. "It’ll all be the same under the veil, anyway. And honestly, you look so much better than her."

The air in the room seemed to freeze. Everyone stared at me, the soon-to-be bride, waiting for me to go ballistic like I usually would.

But then I smiled, calmly slipping the diamond ring off my ring finger.

I pressed the ring into Chelsea's hand, watching her stunned expression. "Save everyone the trouble. You can be the bride. After all, under a veil, who can tell the difference?"

Only later did I learn that Roman had put sleeping pills in my milk before I went to bed, allowing his childhood friend to commit this cruel act.

* * *

My unexpected magnanimity caught everyone off guard.

"I just wanted to help you with a new hairstyle, Lena, but my hand slipped… Please don't be mad at me, okay?"

Chelsea flung herself into Roman’s arms, her eyes glistening with tears as she looked at me.

The others present exchanged uneasy glances.

One of them, clearly uncomfortable, forced himself to smooth things over. "You've got it all wrong, Lena. We're all friends with Chelsea and Roman. But you're his one and only bride."

Roman finally caught on and chimed in defensively, "Chelsea just has a playful personality, she didn't mean any harm."

Shaving the bride's head the day before the wedding.

Mouth full of apologies, yet not forgetting to snap grinning photos of my "ugly state" for keepsakes.

Every single detail screamed malice. How was that "no harm"?

What a flimsy excuse.

I met Roman’s protective gaze with a mocking smile. "What if she gets another playful whim and decides she wants to be the bride? Maybe I should just graciously step aside now."

Roman’s face darkened instantly, his expression stormy enough to wring water from. "Lena, have you made enough of a scene?"

"Chelsea just has the personality of a child, she's mischievous and playful. Do you really have to hold it against a kid?"

At his words, everyone present fell into an awkward silence again.

Not only was I half a year younger than Chelsea, but even if she were a child, no child would do something as absurd as shaving the bride's head the day before the wedding!

I watched, stone-faced, as Roman shielded Chelsea behind him.

So cautiously, so meticulously.

Yet once upon a time, I was the one he protected.

"Lena, I was wrong. Please don't blame Roman. If you're really angry, just hit me or scold me, I won't fight back!"

Chelsea peeked out from behind Roman, timidly looking at me.

She furrowed her brows, looking fragile and vulnerable.

But her eyes held a blatant challenge.

Roman’s features softened. "How could this be your fault? I gave you the sleeping pills, so I'm the one to blame."

"Don't mind her. It's all my fault for spoiling her, letting her get out of hand and throw tantrums over every little thing!"

A knot of anger tightened in my chest.

Roman once promised he’d protect me forever.

He said I could be wild and free, never suffer any wrong.

Now, Chelsea was clearly the one in the wrong.

But in his words, I was making a scene.

He murmured soft reassurances to Chelsea.

The thick, intertwining love in his eyes was something I had never received.

I watched the scene with self-mockery.

In the past, I would have torn the place apart, demanding justice for myself.

But now, I felt nothing.

In this relationship, I had already lost everything.