Chapter 3

Maya's POV

The stationery store had an entire wall of journals. I stood there for ten minutes, just staring at them.

Which one would really mess with his head?

The leather-bound one with gold edges was too much, like I was trying too hard. The plain notebook looked too casual. Then I spotted it, cream-colored with pressed flowers on the cover. The kind of journal a girl planning her dream wedding would buy.

That one.

I grabbed it and walked to the electronics section.

A sales guy with a name tag bounced over. "Looking for something specific?"

"Camera. Good quality video."

"What kind of stuff are you filming?" He led me toward a display wall. "Action shots? Family things?"

"Wedding videos."

He got excited. "Oh wow, congrats! This one here is great for weddings. Does amazing in low light, has stabilization so your hands don't shake, records in 4K..."

I watched him demo the buttons and features. My hands were shoved deep in my jacket pockets because if I pulled them out, he'd see them trembling.

"This is perfect for capturing those special moments," he went on. "You know, the ones you'll want to remember forever."

"Right. Forever." I almost laughed. "I'll take it."

He rang me up and I swiped Henry's credit card. The one he gave me for "wedding stuff." Well, this counted, didn't it?

Back home, I shoved everything in the back of my closet behind my winter coats. Then I took the longest shower of my life, scrubbed my skin until it hurt, washed my hair twice. By the time Henry's key turned in the lock that evening, I looked put together. Normal. Like I hadn't spent the last twenty-four hours finding out my entire relationship was a setup.

"Babe!" Henry dropped his overnight bag and wrapped me in a hug.

I hugged back. Let myself sink into his chest for a second. His cologne was the same, that woodsy one I bought him last Christmas. For half a second, my brain tried to pretend nothing was wrong.

Then I heard his voice from that hotel room and stepped back.

"How was Mike's party?" I kept my voice light.

"Honestly?" He ran his fingers through his hair. "Pretty boring. Mike got wasted way too fast. I bailed early and just passed out at the hotel."

Liar. Liar.

"That sucks." I turned toward the kitchen. "I made pasta. You hungry?"

"Starving."

I'd set the table hours ago. Made his favorite sauce, opened wine, even put out cloth napkins. Going through the motions like a robot.

"So I was thinking about your birthday yesterday," I said, twirling pasta on my fork. "I wanted to do something special, but I figured you'd be too busy."

Henry froze. Just for a second, his fork stopped moving. "Wait, you remembered?"

"Of course I did." I gave him my best smile. "We can celebrate this weekend though. I actually have something I want to run by you."

"Oh yeah?" He relaxed. "What's up?"

"It's a surprise. You'll like it."

After dinner we ended up on the couch, his arm around me, some show playing that neither of us watched. Being this close to him made my chest ache.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"Mm?"

I reached for my bag and pulled out the camera. "Check out what I got today."

His eyes went wide. "Damn, that's nice. What's it for?"

"I had an idea." I turned to face him, letting real excitement creep into my voice. And I was excited, just not for the reasons he'd think. "We've got three weeks until the wedding. Let's do something special."

"Like what?"

"Let's visit all our places. Where we met, our first date, where you proposed, all of it." I held up the camera. "And you tell our story. On video. Your version of everything. Then I'll edit it for the reception."

Henry's whole face lit up. "Babe. That's genius."

"You think so? I was worried it might be cheesy."

"No, it's perfect. It's like... preserving our story forever." He kissed my forehead. "You're incredible."

Preserving our story. Yeah. That's exactly what I'm doing.

"We can start this weekend," I said. "The park first. Our first date."

"I remember that day." His voice went soft. "You wore that yellow dress. I was so nervous I could barely talk."

I wanted to scream. Or throw something. Or both.

Instead I squeezed his hand. "I can't wait to hear you talk about it."

Saturday afternoon, the park was packed with families and couples. Everyone looked so happy.

I set up the camera on the bench, adjusting the angle over and over until it was perfect. Henry stood where I told him to, near the spot where we'd had our first date three years ago. He looked good, nice jeans, the button-up I'd bought him last year, hair actually styled for once.

He wanted to look good for this. For the camera. For the story.

For the lie.

"Okay, I'm recording." I stepped back. "Just talk. Tell me what you were thinking that day when you saw me."

Henry looked straight at the lens, and his whole expression softened into something. "I walked up to this bench and Maya was already here, waiting for me. The sun was behind her, lighting up her hair, and I just... I stopped walking. I stood there thinking, 'That's the most beautiful person I've ever seen.'"

My nails dug into my palms.

"I was so nervous," he continued. "I'd been trying to get her to notice me for two years. She was so hung up on Dennis, and I kept thinking, 'If she'd just look at me, really see me, she'd realize what we could be.'"

"At graduation, when she told me she was done with Dennis, that she needed time to figure herself out, I knew that was my shot. And when she said yes to dating me a year later, when I saw her sitting on this exact bench—" He gestured to where I'd been that day. "I knew right then. I'm going to marry this woman. She's my person."

Through the viewfinder, I watched his earnest face, listened to his sincere voice, and every cell in my body wanted to chuck this camera at his head.

"That's great," I managed. "Keep going."

So he kept going, spinning our entire history into this perfect love story. How patient he'd been. How he never gave up. How every moment with me just confirmed I was his soulmate.

"Perfect," I finally said, hitting stop. "That was really good."

Henry walked over and pulled me into a hug. "This is such a cool idea, babe. The reception video is going to make everyone cry."

"Yeah." I pressed my face against his shirt, listening to his heartbeat. "They're definitely going to cry."

That night I locked myself in my home office. Just me and the journal and my desk lamp.

I opened to the first page and wrote the date at the top. Then, in my neatest handwriting:

Countdown: 21 Days

Today Henry and I went back to the park where we had our first date. I set up the camera and he stood there and told our whole story. He said the moment he saw me on that bench, he knew. He knew he was going to marry me. That I was his person.

I stopped writing and stared at the words.

Then I kept going.

Watching him say all of this, my heart felt so full I thought it would explode. In three weeks I'm marrying this man who chased me for two years, who waited while I got over Dennis, who never pushed me, who made me believe I could be loved like this.

I'm the luckiest girl alive.

I put the pen down. Read what I'd written. The words looked so happy on the page. So innocent and trusting and completely in love.

Then I felt something wet on my hand.

I was crying.

I slammed the journal shut, but the tears kept coming. Hot and angry and silent, streaming down my face while I sat there in the dark.

I had twenty-one days to make Henry think everything was perfect. To get him to pour his heart into this wedding, these videos, this beautiful story we were supposedly building together.

And then I'd rip it all apart.

Exactly like he was planning to do to me.