Chapter 8

The icy seawater swallowed Minerva whole in an instant. She was terrified of water. The more she panicked and thrashed, trying to swim upward, the more frantic and uncoordinated her limbs became. She kept sinking. For a moment, she managed to break the surface just in time to see, out of the corner of her eye, Benedict diving into the sea. He was swimming toward Rowena like a madman. He pulled her out of the water and carried her back onboard, clutching her tightly. On land, he kept shouting her name and giving her CPR without hesitation. It was like he didn't hear Minerva's cries for help at all—just like last time. No matter when or where, it was always Rowena. She was always the one he chose, and Minerva was always the one left behind. The noise around her faded, and she felt her strength drain from her limbs. Her body slowly sank into the deep. … When Minerva woke up, she was lying in a hospital bed. Alison sat beside her, going on and on, complaining sharply in a voice full of scorn. Between the cutting words, Minerva pieced together what had happened—she had been rescued by the cruise ship's emergency team and rushed to the hospital. And Benedict? He hadn't left Rowena's side for even a second. "Look at you! You can't even make it through a rehearsal without causing drama. It's always something with you. You're nothing like Rowena! If Benedict hadn't insisted on marrying you, I would've chosen her as my daughter-in-law without hesitation," Alison snapped. Benedict insisted on marrying Minerva? Was that what they thought? That wasn't insistence; that was him refusing to trap Rowena in a marriage she didn't want. He had called her a bird that was meant to fly free. He loved her so much that he couldn't bear to see her bound by the rules of the Robertson family. Minerva had endured all of it for the sake of keeping things from falling apart, but now, it was time. Her time here was almost up. She didn't need to endure anything anymore. "As you wish, Rowena is the one marrying Benedict." Alison froze, completely caught off guard. "What did you just say?" Minerva didn't explain further. She simply handed her the marriage certificate. "I know you've always liked Rowena, and Benedict has loved her too. He just never said it out loud. So, on the day we registered for the marriage certificate, I wrote Rowena's name on the form. I submitted her birth certificate too. The wedding is tomorrow… but the truth is, she's the real bride." Alison stood in stunned silence, snatching the certificate from Minerva's hands. She stared at it again and again, and sure enough, the bride's name was Rowena Schuman. The shock on her face quickly melted into unfiltered joy. For the first time, she looked at Minerva with something other than disdain. "Hmph. Well, it's about time you did something right." … On the day Minerva was discharged from the hospital, no one came to pick her up. She only got one text from Benedict, who had finally remembered her. "Rowena is still shaken up and needs me. Take care of yourself. See you at the wedding tomorrow." Minerva stared at the message for a long time. Then, she shut off her phone and walked down the steps. "You won't see me there, Benedict," she thought. That night, in the dark and empty Robertson residence, only Minerva's room glowed with warm, yellow light. Silently, she gathered everything related to the wedding—her dress, the ring, and the shoes. She packed them all into one large box and mailed it to Rowena. Before leaving, she placed a note on Benedict's desk. It contained only a few simple sentences. "Benedict, by the time you read this, you've probably already married Rowena. No need to thank me. I always knew you loved her, so I made it happen. I'm off to chase the life that belongs to me. As for us, our story ends here. Let's not meet again." At the stroke of midnight, Minerva rolled her suitcase down the long driveway and walked out of the Robertson residence for good.