Love Has Become an Empty Memory

"Dad, Mom, I've decided—I'll go through with the marriage arrangement with the Kingston family. I'll be back by the end of the month."

Daphne Wharton made the decision in the middle of a camping trip with Luke Hardy.

She curled into herself, pulling her scarf higher against the chill.

For a moment, there was only silence on the other end of the line. Then, her mother's voice came through, thick with tears.

"Daphne, we know this isn't fair to you. Our company is struggling, and the Kingston family is willing to help—but only if you marry their son. We've failed you as parents…"

Her father let out a heavy sigh beside her mother.

Daphne listened, her gaze unfocused. A faint, bitter smile tugged at her lips. "It's okay, Mom, Dad. This is what I should do. I'll be back in fifteen days—when their son returns to the country."

After Daphne and her parents exchanged a few more words of mutual consolation, the call ended.

"Daphne, who were you talking to this late at night?"

She turned to see Luke emerging from the darkness.

He wore a deep blue windbreaker, the fitted sleeves hinting at the firm muscles beneath. His face, sharp and striking with a touch of untamed wildness, carried an undeniable allure.

He pulled her into his arms, brushing his chin lightly against the top of her head before placing a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Sorry for making you wait so long for this trip," he murmured.

"It's fine. The company matters too."

His hand moved slowly along her back, sending a faint shiver through her.

The quiet mountaintop felt charged, the air between them thick with something unspoken.

She stepped back from his embrace and looked at him with expectant eyes. "Let's get our marriage certificate the day after tomorrow. I checked the calendar—it's a good day."

Luke stilled for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle, ruffling her hair.

"Baby, not so soon. You know this is one of the most important moments of our lives. I want to give you the perfect, most romantic ceremony—something that'll make everyone jealous of you. But there's not enough time to prepare. Let's wait a little longer. When everything is set, we'll do it properly. Alright?"

Daphne had already expected this answer, but she still hesitated for show. "Really? You're not just making excuses?"

Luke tightened his arms around her. "Babe, of course not. I just want to give you the best. This isn't something we should rush."

Daphne's mind drifted back to the first time they met.

That day, she had accompanied her brother to a competition. His teammate was Luke. Her brother introduced him, saying he was the most reliable guy he knew.

And in that instant, she had been drawn to him.

From then on, she found excuses to attend every similar event, just to be closer to him.

One night, she heard from a friend that Luke was drinking alone at a bar, one glass after another.

Panicked, she rushed over to find him.

He was already drunk when she arrived, his gaze hazy, as if seeing right through her—searching for someone else.

He reached out and traced her cheek with his fingers, whispering another woman's name, his eyes filled with longing.

Something inside her clenched, but looking at him like that, she felt more pity than pain.

She knew he wasn't seeing her. But she didn't care.

Gently, she wrapped her arms around him and whispered in his ear, "It's okay. Even if you see her in me, I'll stay by your side."

It was unclear whether he heard her or not.

He only held her tighter.

That night, he took her home. "Have you thought this through? I'm your brother's old friend."

"I've thought it through," she said, her face flushing red. "You're only six years older than me. That's not such a big gap."

Her cheeks were warm, flushed like a ripe cherry.

That night, they fell into each other, tangled and breathless.

And from that moment on, she became his girlfriend.

Now, five years had passed.

Brushing away the memory, she returned to the present.

"Trust me, babe. We just need a little more time. When everything is perfect, we'll get married."

With that, Luke pulled out a small, exquisitely wrapped box and handed it to her.

"I picked out this scarf for you. Do you like it?"

She looked down at the soft pink silk, the designer logo stitched neatly into the fabric. It was expensive.

But as she stared at it, her eyes grew red.

Because she knew—this was the scarf Seraphine had rejected.