Caesar was picking up the repaired wedding dress.
In the first few days after I left, he hadn't gone home, as he wanted to teach me a lesson. But when he finally returned and saw the destroyed dress, he felt like his heart had shattered along with it.
Norton was right—every woman dreamed of wearing a wedding dress to marry the man she loved.

He'd been planning to propose to me the whole time, and those other women were just distractions. Even Molly Vale, the one who had driven me to break up with him and leave, had only held his interest for a few days.
Soon, he thought all the women were boring and found himself thinking about me again. Sure, he'd gotten tired of me sometimes after eight years together. But I was like the air he breathed, and he only realized how essential it was after it was gone.
Caesar held the repaired wedding dress, unconsciously smiling. When I came back, he would officially propose to me!
He paid and was leaving when his phone suddenly started buzzing. "Norton?"
"Caesar, there's something I need to tell you. I don't know if it's true, but everyone's saying they spotted Miranda in Snowcall."
Caesar's grip tightened on the phone, feeling his heart lurching.

"Miranda's in Snowcall with Elvis right now!" Norton said.
Caesar was so furious at this news that he threw his phone to the ground.
Elvis!
Caesar hated Elvis more than anyone else. The guy acted all high and mighty with his prince status, refusing to stay in his own country and instead coming here to study.

Caesar used to be the heartthrob everyone looked up to and the guy all the ladies chased after. But once Elvis showed up, not only did he outperform Caesar academically, he also stole the adoration of every girl on campus except me.
That was the first time he'd ever felt inferior to anyone. Why did it have to be Elvis?
Caesar remembered that in the first month after I left, he had sent me a message.
He'd asked, "I'm planning to sell this place. Do you want your clothes or not?"
He had no intention of actually selling the house—it was just an excuse to text me.
Caesar thought that by reaching out first, he was already making a gesture toward reconciliation. Sure, he had a terrible temper, but he was easy to appease. As long as I came back and apologized, he would forgive me.
But the message just sat there, unread and unanswered.
Caesar hadn't touched any of my belongings, and it was as if I had never left at all. Whenever loneliness hit him late at night, he would return to this house and lie on my side of the bed, staring at the ceiling until dawn.
He remembered the first time we were together—how I had cried so hard, asking him over and over again, "Caesar, you'll be good to me, right? You'll marry me, won't you? We'll be together forever, right?"
Back then, my eyes had sparkled, and they were filled with nothing but him. But somehow, he had managed to lose the woman who used to look at him like he was her whole world.
Caesar stared at my name on his phone and hit the call button. The phone rang for what felt like forever. Just when he thought I wouldn't pick up, the call connected.
What he wanted to say was, "Miranda, I was wrong. Please come back."
But what came out of his mouth was, "Miranda, enough with the drama. Come home."
Caesar still couldn't swallow his ridiculous pride. His words were quickly cut off by a man's low, amused chuckle from the other end.
"Caesar, you shouldn't wait around if you want to win your woman back. Someone else might sweep her off her feet."
Caesar growled his name. "Elvis!"
Elvis replied casually, "Looks like you already know Miranda's with me."
"Damn it! You took advantage of Miranda and me fighting!" Caesar roared, his voice shaking despite himself. "Where's Miranda? Put her on the phone!"
"She can't come to the phone right now," Elvis replied.
He then leaned down and kissed me softly. "Sorry about that. We wore each other out pretty thoroughly just now, and she's out cold. Give me a second to wake her up properly."