Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Finally, my efforts paid off, and we got married. By then, it had been exactly two years since Luna Parker’s death.

I moved into his house, which was filled with traces of Luna: her wardrobe, her photo albums. Dylan must have felt it was inappropriate too, because he put almost all her things away.

Our only "argument" had been over a book—Alain de Botton’s On Love, a favorite of Luna’s. I didn’t like it, so I’d put it in the attic, where all her other things were stored.

That night, Dylan had grown irritable when he couldn’t find the book.

"Did you put the book away?" he asked. There was only one book on our bedside table, so I knew what he was referring to.

"Yes," I nodded.

"Why?"

"I don’t like it."

"I do."

"Then you can read it at the office," I said.

It was the first and only time I’d stared at him stubbornly, my tone sharp and unreasonable. I’d always been gentle, so he was clearly caught off guard.

Still, he raised his voice slightly. "Go get it back."

"No! I don’t like it!"

It was rare for me to be so obstinate. He frowned at me but finally gave in. Three years had passed, and the book still lay in the attic, gathering dust. I didn’t know if Dylan had snuck up to read it, and I no longer cared. It turned out you couldn’t spend your whole life imitating someone else.

Pulling my thoughts back to my mother, I added, "We really didn’t fight. He’s just busy with work."

My mother’s health was deteriorating. The doctors had quietly told me to prepare myself, to not grieve too much—but how could I not? My father had died early, and the man I slept next to didn’t love me. If my mother left, there would be no one left in the world I cared about.

"Sophia, why are you crying? Did the doctor say something bad?" my mother asked, her eyes filled with concern.

I wiped my reddened eyes and forced a smile. "No. I accidentally got alcohol in my eyes earlier—they just feel dry."

She nodded in relief, murmuring, "Actually, leaving early isn’t such a bad thing. At least I’ll get to see your father sooner. Now that you’re married and have A Feng to take care of you, I can rest easy. When I get there, I’ll have an explanation to give your dad."

I pressed my lips together, saying nothing. I’d lied to my mother about my marriage, and my conscience weighed heavily on me. But how could I tell her that her proud daughter had become someone’s substitute, sacrificing her own love?