Three years after my boyfriend's death, I saw his name at a wedding. He was the groom, and the bride was the intern I had once taken under my wing.

She clung to his arm, smiling sweetly. "Abigail, remember back when I pulled him out of that junkyard near the border? I heard some woman was clinging to him before that, and almost messed up his mission. Funny how fate works, huh?"

Melissa Burton's voice kept pouring into my ears, but I didn't hear a single word after that.

For the past three years, the man I had risked my life to track down, day after day and night after night, was now marrying my junior Melissa.

"Abigail?" Melissa leaned closer, a trace of concern in her voice. "You look so pale. Are you feeling unwell?"

I yanked my hand from hers, my body trembling. My nails dug deep into my palm, just enough to keep the rage from spilling out.

For three years, even his family had given up on him. I was the only one who never stopped searching.

Samuel Schultz was the top agent in the Criminal Investigation Unit. He was also my partner and lover.

Three years ago, during a classified cross-border mission, the target blew up a chemical plant. The final report was only four cold words—"No recoverable remains detected."

I refused to believe it. But now, here he was alive and standing at the end of the aisle in a perfectly tailored suit, waiting to take Melissa's hand.

"Abigail, don't think about him anymore." Melissa sighed. "It's all in the past. Look at me. I managed to find someone like Sam? You should move on and find a good man..."

Before she could finish, the door to the dressing room swung open, and Samuel walked in.

The air froze.

He looked exactly the same as three years ago—tall, sharp in a bespoke suit—except for his eyes.

Once, they held only me. Now, they barely skimmed over me with cool indifference.

He went straight to Melissa, his movements natural as he adjusted her veil.

Several groomsmen followed him in. They were men I knew from the Criminal Investigation Unit.

When their eyes met mine, they flinched. Their faces twitched with expressions that screamed "oh, shit" without saying a word.

If I had been clinging to the faint hope that he might have lost his memory, their reactions crushed it.

He remembered. He just didn't want me anymore.

"Honey." Melissa's voice was sweet, her eyes sparkling. "Make sure Jack and the others don't leave tonight. Let's have a real get-together!"

She shot me a smug glance.

Samuel gave a casual grunt of agreement, his gaze fixed entirely on her. He did not even spare me so much as a flicker.

It was as if we had never met.

My chest tightened like a giant hand had seized my heart, squeezing before tearing it apart.

I stumbled into the bathroom, sliding down the cold wall until I was sitting on the floor, pain searing through my chest.

"Samuel..." My voice broke, trembling with rage and grief. "What the hell... Who gave you the right..."

From outside, I could barely make out Jackson Powell's low voice. "Sam, are you really sure about this? Abby, she—"

Samuel's tone was flat. "She's a clingy distraction, nothing more. Once a mission is over, you cut ties completely. Do I really need to explain that?"

Jackson was speechless.

The wedding began.

Seeing I wasn't in the mood, Melissa found someone else to take my place at the ceremony.

I sat curled up in the farthest corner of the banquet hall, hidden in shadow. I watched him drop to one knee and slide the ring onto her finger.

Every cell in my body screamed at me to storm up the aisle, tear this wedding apart, and grab him by the collar to demand where the hell he had been these past three years.

I wanted to ask why they had all worked together to treat me like a fool.

But I didn't move. I just sat there, numb.

When they finished exchanging rings and the emcee announced the groom could kiss the bride, I was the first to clap.

I clapped so loudly that people turned their heads to stare.

My nails bit deeper into my palms. I thought, "I'm losing my mind."

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

"Samuel, I'm not wishing you a happy marriage. I'm wishing you a lifetime of never getting what you want."

I felt like the biggest idiot in the world. The woman he loved was right there beside him.

I walked out.

A year ago, the last faint lead on him had gone cold in a small border town.

I went back to the safehouse that had once been ours—still reeking of old gunpowder—and, in front of the cracked bathroom mirror, I slit my wrists.

It was the nosy old beat cop downstairs who realized something was wrong and kicked the door in.

When I woke in the hospital, Jasper Patton was clutching my hand, eyes red. "Abby, you have to live for him. Finish putting away the bastards he didn't get to catch."

Live for him?

Without Samuel, the world was nothing but darkness. It was suffocating and bitter.

We had gone from childhood sweethearts to partners in the Criminal Investigation Unit, and to lovers who had trusted each other with our lives.

We were one step away from getting our marriage certificate. Once the report was filed and the transfer order came through, we would be signing the papers.

Then came that cross-border mission and earth-shattering explosion.

I combed the border inch by inch, like a madwoman.

I asked drug dealers, informants, anyone who could still draw breath near the blast site, but everyone shook their heads.

And now he was back—wearing a groom's suit, holding someone else in his arms.

I drifted into a foggy sleep and woke to the buzz of my phone.

There were a dozen missed calls from Melissa.

There was also a voice message from Jasper, his voice tired. "Abby, come back. The Criminal Investigation Unit needs you."

After crying myself raw, I finally felt clearheaded.

I called him back. "I'm coming back. I'm requesting to transfer to the front line."

"Have you made up your mind?"

"Yeah. Once I wrap up the backlog on my desk, I'm out. I even booked the tickets—seven days from now."

That date was the anniversary of when we first met.

I would end it exactly where it began.

For the next seven days, I shut myself inside my apartment. Aside from handling the paperwork at the Criminal Investigation Unit, I didn't see anyone.

I kept my phone on airplane mode.

At noon on the seventh day, there was a pounding at my door.

Melissa was outside, with Samuel standing just behind her.

"Abigail!" She rushed forward to hug me, but I stepped aside.

She didn't seem to mind. She patted her chest in relief. "You scared me! I couldn't get you on the phone, and you wouldn't answer the door. I thought you might have..."

Her words trailed off, and she glanced meaningfully at my wrist.

"I'm fine." My voice was flat, emotionless.

"We're here to get you!" she said, barreling on before I could protest. "It's your birthday! Did you forget? We've got a surprise party planned for tonight. Plus, I'm introducing you to a few of the hot new guys in our unit! Don't even think about saying no. It's not an option!"

Her tone was warm and assertive, the kind of familiarity that came with effortless closeness. She was bright, lively, and full of warmth. It's no wonder Samuel fell for her.

I looked past her at the man standing behind her. His gaze was cold, the depths of his eyes frozen like a glacier—as if he were looking at a complete stranger.

Without thinking, I stepped aside and let them in.

This safehouse had been approved for two people when we first applied for it.

After Samuel went missing, I stubbornly stayed. Everything inside was still arranged the way he liked it.

Melissa stepped in and exaggeratedly wrinkled her nose, glancing around. "Wow, Abigail! You sure have a unique taste. This place looks like a tactical command center—cold, sterile, not a hint of warmth or life in it."

"Mm," I said softly. "My ex-boyfriend liked it this way. When we lived here together, everything was arranged to suit him."

Melissa immediately pouted. "You really don't have opinions of your own, do you? Why bend to his preferences for everything? When we decorated our place, Sam did whatever I said! I told him to sleep on pink sheets, so he slept on pink sheets!"

I gave a faint tug at the corner of my mouth, remembering our short-lived cohabitation three years ago.

I had bought pink bedding once, excited to surprise him.

But Samuel would rather wrap himself in a blanket and sleep on the floor than get into that bed.

In the end, I swapped them out for dark gray sheets, scowling the whole time, before he finally, grudgingly climbed in.

"Is that so?" I looked at him, my tone flat. "And... did he ever sleep on the floor?"

Melissa's voice jumped an octave. "He wouldn't dare! He even wears the pink underwear I picked out now."

A barely noticeable twitch flickered across Samuel's mouth.

She smiled. "When a man really loves you, there's nothing he won't do for you. The kind of guy who refuses to sleep with you just because of the color of the sheets? You can leave him. Abigail, you searched for him for years, and for what? He's a total scumbag!"

I was quiet for a few seconds before nodding, letting out a soft sigh. "Mm. You're right. He must not have loved me enough."

The instant I said it, Samuel's gaze cut into me like a blade.

He spoke coldly, voice hard as stone. "Officer Woodard, since you understand that so well, you should have the self-awareness to step aside. Stop interfering in other people's lives. Better yet—disappear permanently."

He paused, letting the contempt drip into his next words. "Your self-indulgent heroics only make people hate you."

Self-indulgent?

So in his eyes, risking my life for three years to track him down was nothing but some pathetic performance for my own satisfaction.

It felt like a knife through my chest.

"You know him so well." I met his icy gaze, my voice trembling. "Is it because you're the same kind of person? Do you like vanishing into thin air? Do you like letting people rot in despair? And then with one 'self-indulgent' comment, you stomp everything they gave into the dirt?

"All I ever wanted was the truth! Were the last three years of my life for nothing?"

Samuel's brows knit, irritation flaring. "Nobody held a gun to your head. Love or hate, it's all voluntary. You chose to wait, so you have to live with the consequences. What? Just because you waited three years, he's supposed to get on his knees and marry you?"

His words were ruthless.

I stood frozen, whatever scraps of hope I had clung to shattering in an instant.

He was right, wasn't he? I had the choice to love or hate him. No one forced me to wait. So this ending today was mine alone to bear.

I bit down so hard I tasted blood, the metallic tang spreading through my mouth as my vision blurred with tears.

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

Sensing something was off, Melissa quickly pushed Samuel toward the bedroom, her low voice carrying a warning. "Samuel, what the hell is wrong with you? You know what Abigail's been through, and you still provoke her? Shut your mouth, will you?"

Samuel let out a dismissive snort. "Keep acting."

Those two words crushed the last shred of dignity I still had.

I stood there like a lifeless puppet.

After a long while, the bedroom door opened. Samuel stepped out alone without looking at either of us as he headed straight for the door.

"Where is he going?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Melissa was touching up her lipstick in a small mirror. Without looking up, she answered sweetly, almost casually, "Oh, he only officially came back a year ago. He's swamped with backlogged cases, so he's heading to the Criminal Investigation Unit."

A dull roar went off in my head.

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

How had I not known?

"Yeah." Melissa finally glanced at me in the mirror. "He came back to discuss our wedding."

My lips parted, but my eyes were nothing but a hollow, lifeless void.

My numb mind echoed with just one line, "He came back. He came back."

And like a complete fool, I was still combing the border, searching in vain.

"Come on!" Melissa snapped her compact shut, walked over, and grabbed my arm. "Once he's done at the Criminal Investigation Unit, you can change into something nice. We're going to the club. Your surprise is waiting!"

"You go ahead." I pulled my arm back. "I'll pack a few things and meet you there."

"Hurry up then!" she chirped, leaving without suspicion.

The moment her footsteps faded down the hall, I pulled out my phone and dialed a secure number, my voice level and flat. "Calling HQ. Shadow mission complete. Requesting to return to base. I accept the Hummingbird Project. Arrange the meeting."

A calm, steady male voice came through. "Shadow, return confirmed. Hummingbird is in position. Welcome home."

The tears came, silent and unstoppable.

"Good. Book my ticket for tonight. I'm leaving now."

I pulled out a dusty black backpack from the bottom of my closet, quickly packing only the essentials, my IDs, and the sidearm issued to me as Shadow, which was still hidden in its compartment.

With a bag in hand, I headed straight for the airport.

Before boarding, I blocked every single person connected to Samuel in one go.

I turned off my phone and tossed it into a trash bin.

Through the plane's window, the city lights of New York shrank rapidly into the night.

"Samuel, I never want to see you again," I thought.