Chapter 1
The night before we were to get our marriage license, Peter Williams brought me along to a gathering with
his fellow PhD classmates.
Everyone started cheering for us to sing a love duet.
Someone even suggested Perfect.
He chuckled and shook his head, then picked Born to Run.
“Tramps like us, baby we were born to run…”
He sang with full emotion, his eyes turning red-but not once did he look at me.
Instead, his gaze kept drifting toward the corner of the room.
Sitting there was the new grad student, hair dyed a soft icy blue-the very color he’d recently been praising as “fresh and dreamy.”
My heart plummeted.
The man who was supposed to become my husband tomorrow was singing a love song like a confession-to
someone else.
The song ended. A few scattered claps followed.
Peter wiped the corner of his eyes, as if waking from a trance, and pulled me into his arms.
I asked lightly,
“Born to Run, huh? That’s a first. I’ve never heard you sing it before. And just last week, I saw those Oasis
concert tickets in your wallet. Since when are you a fan?”
His hand, still gripping the mic, trembled.
He forced a laugh. “It wasn’t my idea. Wes insisted on going. I just tagged along.”
Then he got up in a rush, avoiding my eyes.
“I need to use the restroom.”
As he walked away, a lump rose in my throat, making it hard to breathe.
I walked over to Wes, caught him off guard, and asked, “Was the Oasis concert any good? Peter said it was amazing.”
Wes blinked in confusion.
“Huh? Peter never went to a concert with me…”
He instantly looked like he regretted speaking.
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“Wait-oh, that concert? Y-yeah, we went.”
But it was already too late.
Peter hadn’t gone with him.
So… who had he gone with?”
My gaze instinctively fell on the quiet girl in the corner.
Her name was Luna Dawn, the master’s student Peter was supervising during his PhD.
She was strikingly beautiful, the kind of girl who made it hard to look away.
At that moment, she was holding the mic, softly singing Oasis’s Wonderwall.
I glanced at the song queue.
Three Oasis songs in a row-all requested by her.
And just like that, I knew.
Peter eventually came back into the private room.
His eyes flicked toward the corner again.
Then someone chimed in, “Enough singing! Let’s play a game.”
Dice game. Loser drinks.
Peter’s gaze drifted nervously as he cleared his throat.
“Anyone on their period tonight? If so, no need to drink.”
Everyone looked at me.
They thought Peter was being considerate-protective of me.
But I shook my head.
Off to the side, Luna timidly raised her hand.
Peter nodded naturally and called the waiter over.
“A cup of hot water, please.”
“No lemon,” they both said in unison.
“I’m allergic,” Luna added softly.
The hot water arrived, but she didn’t drink it.
She insisted she could handle alcohol.
After just a few drinks, though, she looked ready to topple over-like something was weighing heavily on her
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mind.
Seeing she was determined to drink, Peter suddenly couldn’t win a single round.
Loss after loss after loss.
Because every time he lost, she didn’t have to drink.
After several rounds, the party finally began to wind down.
Peter leaned against me, still humming the tune of Born to Run.
“It’s late. My wife didn’t drink, so we’ll drive everyone home.”
His tone was playful, but his eyes-hazy with alcohol-were fixed on Luna.
To get her home, he made sure to drive all eight of them.
I spent two hours behind the wheel.
Luna was the last one we dropped off.
She lived in the graduate dorms.
Peter casually suggested, “We’re already here. She’s pretty drunk… maybe you could walk her upstairs?”
I took it as a final test.
“She’s too drunk for me to handle alone,” I said. “You should go.”
It was the answer he’d been waiting for.
He held Luna steady by the shoulders, leaned over, and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.
“Wait here, honey. I’ll be right back.”
He didn’t know I followed them up.
From the shadows of the stairwell, I watched him crouch clumsily to tie her loose shoelaces.
Luna’s quiet sobs echoed through the empty hallway.
Peter wiped away her tears, looking like a flustered, helpless kid.
“Hey… don’t cry,” he mumbled.
“Congratulations on your wedding, Peter,” she whispered.
“C-can I… hug you, just once?”
Silence fell.
In the end, he didn’t hug her.
He just reached out and gently patted her head, brushing away the tears from her cheeks.
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Then she asked.
“Can we still go to Oasis concerts together someday?”
“If I can’t sleep at night… can I still send you music?”
“Will you still walk me back to the dorm in the rain?”
Peter didn’t answer.
His voice came out hoarse as he said, “Oh, you little fool…”
