Chapter 8 Your lie

She believed it now.

Not as a dream.

Not as a hallucination.

But as truth.

This wasn't second chance.

It was a rewrite.

Every step she took, every word she spoke, every silence she chose - it wasn't just changing the future.

It was undoing the past.

As she walked down the street,

She suddenly has an urge to ask Julian something.

She quickly turned back and ran towards the boutique

And standing there, in the boutique, Julian still there.

What was he really after?

How could a fiancé not be warm to his woman?

What was his agenda next in the boutique?

These all even made Evelyn question lots of things as she found her way back to the boutique.

This wasn't just memory.

It was reality.

And in this reality, she didn't have to accept his lies.

So she didn't walk away.

She didn't lower her eyes.

She didn't pretend.

And when she finally came close enough to him,

She thought to her self: " since he had the guts to ask what I was doing her. I too have the right to ask him the same question.

She asked him:

"What are you doing here?"

Not cold.

Not angry.

Just... certain.

Like she already knew the answer.

Julian didn't flinch.

He didn't look away.

He just smiled - soft, effortless - the kind of smile that made people trust him without reason.

"Picking up something," he said. "For a friend."

Evelyn waited.

He didn't offer more.

So she said, "What kind of something?"

He shrugged, adjusting his cuff. "A dress. She's getting married. I'm helping her pull off a surprise."

A pause.

Then, with perfect ease: "I told her I didn't know anything about it. Said I was just doing her a favor. She'll walk in, see it hanging in her closet... and finally believe I'm not completely hopeless."

He chuckled.

Like it was sweet.

Like it was kind.

Like he was the hero of this story.

Evelyn didn't blink.

Inside, a single thought cut through like glass:

Surprise my foot.

She didn't say it.

She didn't laugh.

But she saw.

Because she remembered.

Not just the lie.

But the truth behind it.

That dress?

It wasn't for a random friend.

It was for Serena.

And it wasn't for her wedding.

It was for the night she went for dinner with him.

The night Evelyn was supposed to be at his place celebrating the offer from Parsons.

The night Julian told her, "I'll come late. Work ran over."

And now?

Now she stood in the middle of the boutique, the city humming beyond the glass, and realized:

They had already started.

Before Parsons.

Before the engagement.

Before the ring.

They had already chosen each other.

And she?

She had been blind.

Not because she was foolish.

But because she was in love.

She remembered how she used to defend him.

When her mother said, "He's too charming for his own good," she'd say, "He's just kind."

When her friend noticed how often he and Serena were together, she'd say, "They've known each other since childhood. It's just comfort."

She had made excuses.

She had silenced her instincts.

She had smiled through the slow erosion of trust.

And now?

Now she stood there - not crying.

Not shouting.

But remembering.

And the question came, soft and devastating:

Was I really that blind?

Or did I just want to believe in love so badly that I ignored every warning?

―

Julian was still speaking.

"It's not much," he said. "Just a little gesture. But she's been through a lot. I wanted to do something nice."

Evelyn didn't respond.

She just looked at him.

At the way his voice softened when he said "she."

At the way his fingers brushed his watch - a nervous habit she'd seen a thousand times.

At the way he didn't say her name - like he knew, deep down, that Evelyn already knew.

And she thought:

You don't love her.

You don't even love the idea of her.

You just love the freedom she gives you - to be whoever you want, without consequence.

But she said nothing.

She didn't walk away.

She just stood there.

Frozen.

Not by fear.

Not by shock.

But by the weight of realization.

That the man in front of her wasn't the one who became a liar.

He was the lie.

And she had spent years trying to love the truth out of him.

―

The assistant moved behind the counter.

A customer laughed.

A phone buzzed.

Life went on.

But Evelyn?

She was still.

In the middle of the storm.

And in that stillness, one truth settled deep:

She wasn't rewriting the story because she wanted revenge.

She was rewriting it because she finally deserved to be seen.

Not as the woman who was betrayed.

But as the woman who saw it coming.

And this time?

She wouldn't close her eyes.

―

The sun dipped lower.

The boutique lights flickered on.

And Evelyn stood -

not broken.

not angry.

but awake.

And Julian?

He still smiled.

Like he had no idea.

Like he still believed he was the good guy.

But she knew.

And that was enough.