Three years after my boyfriend died, I saw his name again—at a wedding.

He was the groom.

And the bride was the intern I had once trained with my own hands.

She clung to his arm, her smile sugary. "Bailey, if I hadn't dragged him out of that borderland junkyard, who knows what would've happened?"

"I even heard some woman was clinging to him back then. Nearly got his mission blown."

"So tell me, Bailey, isn't it fate that brought us together?"

Ariel Farrold kept chattering, her voice drilling into my ears, but I couldn't make out a single word.

Three years.

Over a thousand days and nights, I'd risked everything searching for the man I loved. I never found his body. And now, he was about to marry the junior I'd mentored with my own hands.

"Bailey?" Ariel leaned in, concern in her eyes. "You look pale. Are you okay?"

I jerked her hand away, my whole body trembling. My nails dug deep into my palm, barely keeping the rage at bay.

Three years. I'd thrown my life into this.

Bullets flying across the border, crawling through jungles crawling with snakes, insects, and rats, climbing over mass graves piled with nameless corpses. Even his family had given up. I was the only one who kept searching, refusing to quit.

I held on to one stubborn belief—if he was alive, I'd find him. If he were dead, I'd bring his body home.

Callum Rilver, star detective of the Major Crimes Unit. My partner. My lover.

Three years ago, during a top-secret cross-border operation, the target blew up a chemical plant. The case file ended with six cold words, "Callum, body lost without a trace."

I refused to believe it. And now, here he was—alive, and about to become Ariel's groom.

"Bailey, let him go," Ariel sighed. "It's all in the past. Look at me—I found Callum, didn't I? You should move on, too. Find someone good—"

She didn't finish. The dressing room door swung open.

Callum walked in.

The air froze.

He wore a sharp suit, standing tall and straight, just like three years ago. The only difference was his eyes.

Those eyes that once held only me now passed over me with indifference.

He walked to Ariel, adjusting her veil with a natural, practiced touch.

A few groomsmen followed him in—old brothers from our unit.

They saw me and looked away, their faces twitching, expressions screaming, "Shit, this is bad."

If I'd been fooling myself that maybe he'd lost his memory, their faces slapped the lie right out of me.

He hadn't forgotten.

He just didn't want me anymore.

"Honey," Ariel cooed, her eyes sparkling, "let's have Marcus and the guys stay tonight, throw a real party!"

She shot me a look as she spoke.

Callum just grunted, his gaze fixed on Ariel, not sparing me a glance. As if we'd never known each other.

It felt like a giant hand crushed my heart, squeezing until it tore in two.

I stumbled into the bathroom, slid down the wall, feeling its coldness against my back as pain stabbed through me.

"Callum..." The ache in my chest was suffocating. I choked out the words, "What the hell... why..."

Outside, I could just make out Marcus Shraven's low, tense voice.

"Callum, are you sure about this? Bailey, she—"

Callum's reply was flat. "She's just a clingy nuisance. When the mission's over, you cut all ties. Isn't that obvious?"

The wedding was underway.

Sensing how shaken I was, Ariel graciously found someone else to take over my duties at the last minute.

I shrank back into the darkest corner of the reception hall, watching as Callum dropped to one knee, watching him slip the ring onto Ariel's finger.

A violent rage shot straight to my head.

I wanted to storm up there, tear the whole wedding apart, and demand to know what gave Ariel the right to steal my boyfriend;

I wanted to grab Callum by the collar and scream at him—where the hell had he been these past three years?

I wanted to ask every single one of them why they'd all joined forces to make a fool out of me.

But I didn't.

I just sat there, numb, lost in the shadows.

Then, when they finished exchanging rings and the officiant announced that the groom could kiss the bride, I was the first one to start clapping.

I clapped so loudly that people all around turned to stare.

I ignored them all. I just met Callum's gaze—he finally looked at me. I forced a grin, but tears slipped down my cheeks, scalding hot.

His pupils tightened for a split second. Then, just as quickly, he looked away, any flicker of emotion swallowed by an even deeper coldness, a chill that seemed to stretch for miles.

My nails dug deeper into my palm. I thought I must be losing my mind.

I pulled out my phone and typed out a message to him.

"Callum, I won't wish you a happy marriage. I hope, for the rest of your life, you never get what you want. May you always love and lose."

The notification chimed to confirm the message was sent, and suddenly I felt like a complete idiot.

The woman he loved was right beside him. My curse meant nothing.

I didn't even wait for the bride and groom to make their rounds with drinks. I walked out. If I stayed a second longer, I was afraid I really would pull my gun.

A little over a year ago, the last faint lead about him vanished for good in a border town.

I went back to the safe house that once belonged to both of us, the air still thick with the scent of old gunpowder.

Staring at the cracked mirror in the bathroom, I slashed my wrist. It was the nosy old cop downstairs who noticed something was wrong and kicked the door in.

When I woke up in the hospital, Commander Graham was there with red eyes, gripping my hand.

"Bailey, you have to live for him! You have to put away every last bastard he didn't get to catch!"

Live for him? In a world without Callum, everything was darkness—too bitter to bear.

We'd grown up together, partners on the squad, lovers who'd faced death side by side.

We were just one step away—our paperwork was already in, and as soon as the transfer order came through, we'd have gotten our marriage license.

Then came that cross-border operation. That earth-shattering explosion.

I lost my mind, searching every inch along the border.

I questioned drug dealers, informants, and every living soul near the blast site. Everyone just shook their heads.

And now he was back, dressed as a groom, with someone else in his arms.

I drifted into a heavy, dreamless sleep, only to be jolted awake by my phone vibrating.

A dozen missed calls—all from Ariel.

There was also a voice message from Commander Graham, his voice weary, "Bailey, come back. The team needs you."

Scrolling down, one message stood out. Just a single word.

"Leave."

I stared at that word for a long time, then suddenly started laughing.

So all this attachment I'd clung to—it was nothing but a joke to him.

My gaze fell to my chest. I was still wearing that rough wooden pendant, already cracked and worn, but I'd never had the heart to take it off.

Three years ago, the night before our last mission together, he'd climbed over the fence in the middle of the night, dew-soaked, and slipped it around my neck.

"Got it blessed at the cathedral," he'd said, smiling shyly, his ears turning red. "It's for protection. Wear it. Don't take it off."

It wasn't until much later that I found out that the so-called cathedral was just an abandoned chapel deep in the woods, way out past the state line, empty for years. He'd nearly gotten himself shot sneaking across the border for that cheap little charm, all because they said it could tie two people's fates together.

My eyes burned as I ripped the protective charm from my neck. I flung open the window and tossed it straight into the dumpster below.

"Callum, from now on, you walk your road, and I'll walk mine."

I cried until my chest ached, but when it was over, I finally felt clear-headed.

I called Commander Graham. "Commander, I'm coming back. I want to be reassigned to the front line."

"You sure about this?"

"Yeah. I'll wrap up my open cases, then I'm gone. My flight's booked—seven days from now."

That day would mark the anniversary of when we first met.

I wanted to end things where they began.

For those seven days, I locked myself in my apartment, only leaving to handle paperwork at the precinct. My phone stayed in airplane mode.

On the seventh day, just after noon, someone pounded on my door.

It was Ariel, and Callum was right behind her.

"Bailey!" Ariel rushed in, arms wide for a hug, but I stepped aside.

She didn't mind, just patted her chest. "You scared me half to death! You wouldn't answer your phone, you wouldn't open the door—I thought you were... you know..."

She trailed off, casting a pointed glance at my wrist.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice flat and emotionless.

"We're here to get you!" Ariel insisted. "It's your birthday, remember? We've got a surprise party for you tonight! And I want you to meet some of the cute new guys on the force! Don't say no—I'm not taking no for an answer!"

She was as sunny and assertive as ever, her affection so natural it seemed like she was born with it.

No wonder Callum fell for her.

I looked at the man standing behind her. His gaze was icy, his eyes dark and glacial, looking at me like I was a stranger.

Against my better judgment, I stepped aside and let them in.

This safe house had been approved for two people from the start. After Callum disappeared, I stubbornly stayed, keeping everything the way he liked it.

Ariel walked in and wrinkled her nose dramatically, glancing around.

"Wow, Bailey, your taste is... something else. This place feels like a war room. Cold as ice—there's not a hint of home in here."

"Yeah," I said softly. "My ex liked it this way. When we lived together, I set everything up for him."

Ariel immediately made a face.

"Girl, you really need to stand up for yourself! Why would you bend over backwards for him all the time? When Callum and I decorated our place, he did whatever I wanted! If I told him to sleep on pink sheets, he slept on pink sheets!"

I forced a smile, remembering the brief time we lived together three years ago.

I'd bought a set of pink bedding too, excited to put it on the bed. But Callum would rather curl up on the floor with a blanket than sleep on those sheets—not a chance.

In the end, I switched them out for dark gray, my face like thunder, and only then did he grudgingly climb into bed.

"Is that so?" I glanced at Callum, my tone flat. "Did he... sleep on the floor?"

"He wouldn't dare!" Ariel's voice shot up an octave. "These days, even his underwear is pink—because I picked it out!"

The corner of Callum's mouth twitched, barely noticeable.

Ariel grinned. "Men—if they really love you, they'll do anything. Any guy who'd refuse to sleep next to you just because of the color of the sheets? Toss him out, Bailey!

"You spent all those years looking for him—for what? He's a total jerk!"

I was silent for a few seconds, then nodded, letting out a quiet sigh. "Yeah, you're right."

"Maybe... he just never loved me enough."

The moment the words left my lips, Callum's gaze shot over, sharp as a blade, cutting right through me.

He spoke, his voice cold as steel. "Since Officer Winlock is so clear-headed, maybe you should have the sense to back off. Stop interfering in other people's lives. In fact, do us all a favor and disappear for good."

He paused, his tone turning even more biting. "All this self-pity just makes people sick."

Self-pity?

So all those years I risked everything chasing after him—he saw it as nothing more than pathetic self-pity.

It felt like someone drove a knife straight through my heart.

"If you know him so well," I said, meeting his icy stare, my voice trembling uncontrollably, "is it because you're just like him? Is that it? You both like to vanish, to leave people drowning in despair? And then you brush it all off with a single word—self-pity—and grind everything I did for you into the dirt?

"All I ever wanted was the truth! Did I waste three years of my life on nothing?!"

Callum's brows drew together, and he snapped back, his temper finally surfacing.

"No one forced you to wait! Love and hate are choices—you made yours, so deal with the consequences! What, you think just because you waited three years, he owes you a lifetime on his knees?"

His words were ruthless, final.

I just stood there, stunned, every last shred of hope and longing inside me shattering in an instant.

He was right—love and hate are both choices. No one made me wait. No one asked me to. So whatever happens now, it's all on me.

I bit down so hard I tasted blood, my vision swimming with tears.

"Fine," I heard my own hollow voice say. "Maybe I should disappear."

Sensing something was wrong, Ariel quickly shoved Callum toward the bedroom, her voice low and edged with warning as it drifted out.

"Callum, what is wrong with you? You know what Bailey's been through... and you still push her like that? Just shut up, will you?"

Callum let out a derisive snort, full of contempt. "She's faking it."

That single word shattered the last remnants of my dignity and hope. I stood there like a puppet, numb and motionless.

After what felt like an eternity, the bedroom door creaked open. Callum walked out alone, not sparing us a glance as he headed straight for the front door.

"Where's he going?" I asked Ariel, my voice raw and hoarse.

Ariel touched up her lipstick in a compact mirror. She didn't even look up, her tone sweet and casual.

"Oh, he only officially came back a little over a year ago. He's got a backlog of cases to deal with at the station."

My mind went blank, a dull roar filling my ears.

"He... he came back a year ago?"

Why didn't I know?

"Yeah," Ariel finally looked at me through the mirror. "He came back to talk about our wedding."

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My eyes were empty, lifeless. All I could think was that he came back. He came back. And all that time, I was still out there on the border, searching for him like a fool.

"Come on, let's go!" Ariel snapped her powder compact shut and came over to tug at my arm. "He's done with his stuff. Get changed—we're going to the club. There's a surprise waiting for you!"

"You go ahead," I pulled my arm free. "I need to pack up a few things. I'll be right there."

"Hurry up!" she chirped, suspecting nothing as she bounced out the door.

As soon as her footsteps faded down the hallway, I pulled out my phone, my voice flat, stripped of all emotion.

"This is Shadow. Mission complete. Requesting reassignment. I agree to join Operation Hummingbird. Please arrange the meeting."

On the other end, a calm male voice replied, steady and certain.

"Shadow, return confirmed. Hummingbird is already in the target zone. Welcome home."

Hot tears blurred my vision, spilling soundlessly down my face.

"Good. Book my flight for tonight. I'm leaving today."

I yanked open the bottom drawer, dragging out the dusty black backpack I'd hidden for years. Inside went only the essentials—my ID, a change of clothes, and the cold steel sidearm once issued to Shadow.

With the bag slung over my shoulder, I walked straight to the airport.

One tap, and every contact tied to Callum was erased. One final swipe, and my phone went dark before I tossed it into a trash can without looking back.

From the plane window, Boston's lights shimmered, then shrank into the night.

Callum.

This time, it's real. I'll never see you again.