I Changed My Identity and Became My Childhood Sweetheart's Bride

The comments section was buzzing with guesses about the identity of the person celebrating with her. But I knew right away who the hand in the photo belonged to. It was Nathan’s.  

That was when it all clicked. The cake sitting in front of me was not made for me. Just a moment ago, I had been wondering how Nathan, always so busy, had suddenly made a cake for me. Turns out, it was for Clair's birthday. He had made the cake to cheer her up. While I was merely an afterthought. Perhaps Clair didn’t like the cake and that’s why it ended up here.  

A wave of nausea surged through me and I barely managed to hold back the urge to vomit.  

Before long, a comment appeared beneath Clair’s post: [Thank you, dear, Clair. Happy birthday! Hope you like the gift I got you!]

The comment quickly attracted attention and amassed countless likes. There was no need to guess who had written it—it was Nathan, the man who sat across from me and called me his wife.

Clair Jarvis was an artist under Nathan's company. Unlike the other talents marketed for their sweet and innocent images, Clair’s branding exuded the elegance of a bright yet cold young lady. She was unique and the audience loved her for it.  Even Nathan, too, had fallen for her.  

Despite joining the company just this year, Clair had been showered with opportunities and quickly becoming a top actress. Her meteoric rise was all thanks to Nathan.  

Soon, Clair replied to his comment:  [Thank you, darling, for the birthday gift. I love it! Here’s a kiss as a reward.]

The accompanying photo showed Clair’s hand adorned with a ring.  

A ring. Why, of all things, he gave her a ring? I felt my heart tighten in a painful knot. I looked up at Nathan, who sat across from me. But he didn’t notice that I was looking at him, his face still wearing a smile.

The same affectionate look he once reserved for me now belonged to someone else. I glanced down at his ring, then at the one on my finger. Though similar in design, I could tell right away that the one he wore wasn’t part of the matching set of mine.  

I opened my mouth to confront him, to ask him why he had betrayed me like this. But no sound came out.  

Returning to the comments section, I saw their flirtatious exchange had sparked a frenzy, quickly propelling them to trending topics. Unable to stomach it anymore, I closed the app, while Nathan remained oblivious to my shifting emotions.  

Later that night, I lay in bed alone, pulling the blanket over my head as if to shield myself from the storm raging in my mind. But Nathan and Clair’s faces kept flashing in my mind. It was impossible to shake them off. Suddenly, my phone buzzed, pulling me out of my thoughts.  

Annoyed, I checked the notification—it was from an unknown number.  Curious, I opened it to find the unedited version of Clair’s photo.  There, the owner of the hand was revealed and I was right. It belonged to Nathan.  

Before seeing this, I could still fool myself into believing I might have been mistaken. But now, even the last shreds of self-deception had been ripped away.  

In the photo, Nathan wore an apron, holding a strawberry while smiling softly at the camera.  

His eyes, however, were filled with nothing but Clair.  

A follow-up message arrived shortly after:  [Did you like the strawberry cake? Yours was just something Nathan grabbed at random store. The one I had was the one he made with his own hands from scratch.]  

Her words were filled with arrogance and triumph.