Love Changes Everything

Before She Answers

I stared at the message longer than I should have, the words blurring and sharpening again as if they were breathing. When I finally looked up, Julia was still there—only now she wasn't alone. The man beside her leaned in too close, his hand resting with an ease that didn't belong to a stranger.

Something inside me went very still.

I didn't move. I didn't call out. I just watched.

My fingers tightened around my phone until it hurt. The camera opened almost on its own. One picture. Then another. Proof—something solid to hold onto when everything else felt like it was slipping through my hands.

Julia laughed at something he said. It was the same laugh I knew, the one that used to soften her whole face. Only now it wasn't for me.

She followed him to his car like it was routine, like she had done it a hundred times before. No hesitation. No looking back.

The engine turned over, and they were gone.

I stayed there long after the empty space swallowed them, my chest tight, my thoughts louder than anything around me. When I finally moved, it wasn't because I had decided to—it was because I couldn't stay there another second.

I drove without direction, the road unfolding beneath me like it already knew where I was going. By the time I stopped, the sky had darkened and the ocean stretched out ahead, endless and indifferent.

I rested my forehead against the steering wheel. The silence roared.

My phone lit up in my hand. I looked at the photos again. Zoomed in. Her profile. The curve of her smile. The way she leaned into him.

No doubt.

A bitter laugh caught in my throat.

Is she even pregnant? And if she is... is it mine?

The questions came fast, sharp, each one cutting deeper than the last.

How long? How many times? Was any of it real?

A memory of my grandmother's voice flickered through my mind, followed by the look on her face the day I walked away. I had chosen Julia. Chosen her over everything.

My grip tightened.

"I'm such an i***t," I muttered, the words tasting like ash.

The car door slammed harder than I meant it to. Cold air hit my face, but it didn't register. I walked toward the water, shoes sinking into damp sand. The tide crept forward to meet me, cautious at first, then insistent.

The water was freezing when it touched my feet.

I kept going.

Each step swallowed by the sea, the cold climbing higher—ankles, knees, waist—until the shock of it stole my breath. Still, I didn't stop. I welcomed it. The numbness. The silence.

For a moment, everything inside me matched the cold outside.

Then the wave broke against my chest, and I gasped, the air tearing back into my lungs like I had been underwater too long.

I stood there, trembling, staring into nothing.

"Why?" The word barely made it out. "Why me?"

The ocean didn't answer.

When I finally turned back, my clothes clung to me, heavy and dripping. I collapsed onto the sand, staring up at the sky. The moon hung there, distant and untouched by any of this.

"Grandpa..." My voice cracked. “I wish you were here. I would give absolutely anything just to hear your voice one last time.”

The tears came without warning, sliding into my ears, disappearing into the sand.

I lay there until the cold started to bite again, until the weight in my chest shifted just enough for me to move.

By the time I got back to the condo, the world felt unreal—like I was walking through something that hadn't caught up to me yet.

I reached for the door, key already in hand.

Before it touched the lock, the door opened.

Julia stood there.

Smiling.

For a second, everything stopped. My mind refused to connect what I had seen with what was in front of me. I blinked once. Twice.

She didn't disappear.

The image hit me all at once—her, earlier, pressed against that man, laughing, leaving with him.

Heat surged through me so fast it made my hands shake.

"What are you doing here?" The words came out sharp, brittle.

I brushed past her, the scent of her perfume catching me off guard, familiar in a way that made my stomach turn.

"What's wrong?" she asked, like nothing had happened.

I let out a short, humorless breath. "I saw you today."

I couldn't hide the look of disgust on my face as I stared at her.

"What do you mean?"

I turned to face her fully now. "You. Him. Outside his place. Don't do that—don't pretend you don't know."

Her brows pulled together, confusion—or something like it—flickering across her face.

"Dylan, I don't—"

"Are you even pregnant?" The question cut through her words. "Is it mine?

Her expression shifted, hurt flashing across it. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what?" I shook my head, already stepping back. "Don't. Just don't. There's nothing you can say."

I pulled out my phone and shoved it toward her.

"Explain that."

She looked down at the screen.

And then she laughed.

Not loud. Not mocking. Just... disbelieving.

"That's not me."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"That's not me, Dylan." She looked back at me, her voice steadier now. "She looks like me, but that's not me."

Something inside me recoiled.

"This—" I gestured between her and the phone, anger flaring again. "This is insane."

"I would never cheat on you," she said, stepping closer.

"Stop." I held up a hand, already moving past her. "Just stop."

I went straight to the bedroom, yanking open drawers, grabbing whatever was hers. Clothes. Shoes. Anything I could find. Each item felt like proof of something I didn't want in my space anymore.

She followed me, her voice breaking now. "You're making a mistake."

"Yeah?" I turned, arms full, my chest tight. "Feels like I already did."

I walked to the door and threw everything out into the hallway. Fabric scattered across the floor.

"Get out."

"Dylan, please—"

"Get out."

For a moment, she just stood there, searching my face like she could still reach me.

Then slowly, she stepped back.

The door closed between us with a final, hollow sound. I slid the chain into place, the metal clicking louder than it should have.

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating the small space between the walls.

Sleep never came.

The night dragged, each minute stretching into the next, until the first hint of morning crept through the blinds. I gave up trying.

Thirty minutes later, I was pulling up to Mr. Kudo's place.

He was already waiting at the door.

He didn't say anything when he saw me—just pulled me into a brief embrace and led me inside. The quiet in his study felt heavier than usual.

I dropped into the chair without waiting.

"You were right," I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "She was cheating on me. I saw her—with some guy. She went back to his place. She told me she is pregnant." I let out a shaky breath. "I don't even know what's real anymore."

He watched me, his expression unreadable.

"What am I supposed to do?" My voice cracked. "My family... I turned my back on all of them. For her."

The silence stretched.

"How do I face them now?" I asked, quieter this time. "After everything I said... especially to my grandmother."

Mr. Kudo leaned back slightly, his gaze steady.

"Go home," he said.

I stared at him, the words not landing the way I expected.

Home.

I wasn't even sure I knew where that was anymore.

The drive back felt longer than it should have.

Mr. Kudo's words sat in the car with me, heavy and unmoving.

Go home.

That was it. No advice. No sympathy. Just two words that kept echoing like they meant more than I understood.

By the time I pulled into the condo parking lot, my hands were tight on the wheel again.

Home.

The word didn't feel right.

I stepped out, the morning air cool against my skin, and made my way upstairs. The hallway was quiet—too quiet. For a second, I thought she might still be there, sitting outside the door, waiting.

She wasn't.

But something else was.

A suitcase.

Mine.

It sat just to the side of the door, upright, like someone had placed it there carefully. Not thrown. Not abandoned.

Placed.

My stomach tightened.

I unlocked the door slowly this time, pushing it open with a sense of unease I couldn't shake.

The condo was... wrong.

Too clean.

Too empty.

The faint trace of her perfume was gone, replaced by something neutral, almost sterile. I stepped further inside, my eyes scanning the room.

That's when I saw it.

An envelope.

Sitting in the center of the coffee table.

My name written across it in handwriting I didn't recognize.

I didn't move right away. Something about it felt deliberate—like a trap I was walking into anyway.

Slowly, I reached for it.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

Dylan,

I didn't expect you to find out like this.

My jaw tightened.

But maybe it's better this way. It saves us both the time.

Each word felt colder than the last.

What we had was real—at least, it was for me at the beginning. But things change. People change.

I let out a sharp breath, my hand clenching the page.

Lies.

All of it.

You were never supposed to get hurt like this. That wasn't the plan.

The plan.

The word echoed.

The baby...

My eyes stopped there.

For a second, everything else disappeared.

...is not yours.

The room tilted.

I read the line again.

And again.

Like if I stared at it long enough, the words would rearrange themselves into something else.

They didn't.

A hollow sound escaped me—something between a laugh and a choke. My legs gave out, and I dropped onto the couch without even realizing it.

Not mine.

All those nights. All those plans. The way she looked at me when she told me—

My grip tightened until the paper crumpled slightly in my hand.

I'm sorry.

That was how she ended it.

Two words.

After everything.

A sound broke from my chest, raw and uncontrolled. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor as the weight of it finally settled in.

Not just the betrayal.

Not just the lies.

But the realization that I had torn my life apart—for something that was never real.

My family.

My grandmother's voice, sharp with disappointment.

The look on my father's face.

All of it came rushing back at once.

"I threw it all away..." I muttered, my voice barely audible.

For her.

For this.

The silence in the condo pressed in around me, suffocating.

Then something clicked in my mind.

That wasn't the plan.

I straightened slightly, the words replaying.

Plan.

This wasn't just cheating.

This was... intentional.

My eyes dropped back to the letter, scanning it again, slower this time.

What we had was real—at least, it was for me at the beginning.

At the beginning.

Meaning somewhere along the way... it stopped being real.

My jaw ached locked in a hard line.

"No..." I whispered, shaking my head.

This wasn't over.

Not even close.

I pushed myself up, the paper still in my hand, anger replacing the hollow ache piece by piece.

If this was a plan—

Then I needed to know who else was part of it.

And why.

Mr. Kudo's face flashed in my mind.

Unreadable.

Waiting.

Go home.

A slow, dangerous realization settled in.

He already knew.

Maybe he knew everything.

I grabbed my keys without another thought.

If there were answers—

I wasn't going to sit here and wait for them.

The second time I pulled up to Mr. Kudo's estate that day, the gates opened before I even came to a full stop.

Like he had been expecting me.

I stepped out of the car, the letter still clenched in my hand, wrinkled from how tightly I'd been holding it. My chest felt tight again—but not the same kind of tight.

This time, it wasn't just pain.

It was direction.

Mr. Kudo stood at the door, just as before. Waiting.

"You knew," I said the moment I reached him, my voice low but unsteady. I held up the letter. "You told me to go home. You knew I'd find this."

He looked at the paper briefly, then back at me.

"I knew," he said.

The admission hit—but it didn't explode the way I expected it to.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

"Because you needed to see it for yourself," he replied calmly. "Otherwise, you would have fought the truth."

I let out a slow breath, running a hand over my face before following him inside.

The study felt the same—but I didn't.

This time, I sat without being told.

"She said the baby isn't mine," I said, staring at the letter. "She said none of this was supposed to happen like this."

Mr. Kudo closed the door behind him and took his seat.

"That part," he said, "is likely true."

I looked up sharply. "Don't."

"I am not defending her," he said evenly. "I am explaining the situation you are in."

I leaned back, jaw tight. "Then explain it."

"There are a few families who would like to have an alliance with the Miller family and would definitely want you out of the way. Your grandmother and I have been investigating this matter and have came up empty. Whoever this man is, he's pulling out all the stops; he will not rest until he has her.

I frowned. "What does that have to do with me?"

Mr. Kudo's gaze held steady.

"Everything," he said. "And that is precisely the problem."

Something about that answer made my chest tighten again.

"Sherry Miller is his target."

I blinked. "Sherry?"

"Yes."

The words landed harder than anything else.

I straightened. "What does she have to do with this?"

"Sherry is the motivation behind all of this," he said.

Silence stretched between us.

"An alliance between the Miller family and any of the other families will be catastrophic to your family, you have to know that." Mr. Kudo said carefully.

I stared at him. "You mean marriage."

"Yes."

My mind started connecting pieces I didn't even realize were there.

"And Dylan," he added quietly, "you became an obstacle."

The words didn't hit all at once.

They sank in slowly.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Your engagement announcement to Sherry was going to be made official and they could not allow that to happen, "when you announced that you were in love with Julia and you would not marry Sherry that was the icing on the cake they needed to make their move." he said.

My stomach dropped.

"So instead of confronting you directly... they removed you."

I let out a dry, disbelieving laugh. "Removed me? By doing what—sending Julia into my life?"

"Yes."

The single word echoed.

I shook my head. "No... no, that's—"

"It did not begin that way," Mr. Kudo said firmly. "Your relationship with Julia was real at first. That, I believe."

I looked down at the letter again.

At the beginning, it was real.

The words twisted in my chest.

"But somewhere along the way," he continued, "she was approached. Influenced. Offered something she could not—or would not—refuse."

"And she just... what? Played along?" My voice sharpened.

"She made a choice," he said. "One that benefited them. And removed you from the equation."

My grip tightened around the paper.

"So the cheating..." I muttered.

"Was not the objective," Mr. Kudo said. "It was the exit."

The room went quiet.

Everything started to make a different kind of sense now—one I didn't like.

"They needed you distracted. Invested. Isolated," he continued. "And when the time came... discarded."

A hollow feeling spread through my chest—but underneath it, something else began to form.

Something colder.

"And the pregnancy?" I asked.

Mr. Kudo's gaze didn't waver.

"A complication," he said. "Not part of the original design."

I let out a slow breath, leaning back, staring at the ceiling for a moment.

All of it.

Every moment.

Every decision.

"Just a move," I said quietly.

"Yes."

I closed my eyes briefly.

When I opened them again, the anger was still there—but it wasn't wild anymore.

It was focused.

"So what now?" I asked.

Mr. Kudo leaned forward slightly.

"Now," he said, "you stop thinking like someone who was hurt."

His voice lowered just enough to sharpen the words.

"...and start thinking like someone who understands what was done to him."

I met his gaze. "I must go back."

"They believe you are no longer relevant."

A slow breath left my lungs.

"Good," I said.

Mr. Kudo studied me carefully.

Because for the first time since this started—

I wasn't reacting.

I was deciding.

"Then let them believe that," I continued quietly.

The corner of Mr. Kudo's expression shifted—just slightly.

Approval.

"Good," he repeated.

Silence settled again, but it felt different now.

Controlled.

Deliberate.

Dangerous.

"Your grandmother is waiting on your return," he said.

"She is?"

He nodded.

The people I turned my back on.

The bridge I burned.

I exhaled slowly.

"Then I guess," I said, pushing myself to my feet, "I have a lot to fix."

Mr. Kudo gave a small nod.

"Yes," he said.

"I couldn't do it as the person I was yesterday."

The drive back to the condo blurred into something half-remembered. Streetlights stretched into thin streaks across the windshield, and the weight of everything I'd learned that day pressed behind my eyes like a dull ache that refused to fade.

I told myself I would sleep.

I didn't.

The ceiling above my bed became a void I couldn't escape, my thoughts circling the same truth over and over until morning found me still awake.

Tomorrow, I am going home.

That thought finally steadied something in me.

By the time I showered, grabbed my things, and stepped out into the morning air, I had convinced myself of one thing—no matter what had happened, no matter what had been taken from me or hidden from me, family came first.

Always.

The house came into view as I pulled up the long driveway, and for a moment I just sat there, engine idling, staring at it.

It felt unfamiliar.

Like I was arriving somewhere I no longer fully belonged to.

My hands were steady when I stepped out, but my stomach wasn't. Each step toward the entrance tightened something in my chest until it felt difficult to breathe properly.

I didn't go through the front.

Instead, I moved around the side toward my grandmother's quarters.

The world there was quieter. Softer. Like time moved differently.

The butler opened the door before I could knock.

"Sir," he said, surprised—but I lifted a hand before he could say anything more.

"Don't announce me."

He hesitated, then nodded and stepped aside.

I walked through the familiar halls, each step slower than the last, until I reached the tea room.

The door was slightly open.

And there she was.

My grandmother.

Sitting exactly as I remembered her—composed, elegant, surrounded by stillness that always seemed to follow her.

She looked up.

And for a moment, everything inside me cracked.

Because she wasn't cold.

She wasn't distant.

She was smiling.

Softly. Warmly. Like none of the distance I had created between us had ever existed.

"Grandma..." my voice broke before I could stop it.

I crossed the room in seconds.

Before I even fully reached her, something in me gave way.

I dropped to my knees beside her chair and wrapped my arms around her, the dam inside me finally breaking as everything I had been holding in collapsed all at once.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, my voice shaking. "I'm so sorry... please forgive me."

Her hand moved slowly to the back of my head, steady and familiar, anchoring me as I broke against her.

"I was wrong," I said, barely able to breathe through it. "I left everything... I left you... I thought I knew better and I didn't—I didn't know anything."

For a moment, she said nothing.

Just held me.

Then gently, she pulled me back just enough to see my face.

Her hand rested against my cheek.

There was no anger there.

Only understanding.

"You're back," she said softly.

I nodded, unable to speak.

And she smiled.

That small, quiet smile that always meant she already knew more than she was saying.

"All is forgiven," she said simply.

The words hit harder than anything else I had heard in days.

My eyes closed for a moment as I leaned into her hand.

"I'm ready," I said finally, voice still uneven. "I'll do it. I'll take my place. I'll fulfill everything expected of me as the Edward heir."

She studied me for a moment, then placed a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

"Good," she whispered.

The word felt like acceptance.

Like return.

"I will make the announcement in two days," she said calmly, as if discussing the weather. "After I speak with the Millers."

I nodded. "Okay."

A pause lingered between us.

Then, quieter, I added, "Grandma... don't say anything about Julia. About what happened between us."

Her eyes flickered—just for a moment.

Then that same soft smile returned.

"It will remain our little secret," she said.

And something in me relaxed.

That night, I didn't think anymore.

I simply existed in the certainty that things were falling back into place.

The Miller house appeared just beyond the curve of the road, lights glowing softly against the darkening sky.

I wasn't sure what I expected to feel.

But it wasn't this tightness in my chest. Not anticipation—something sharper. Something unsettled.

As I pulled closer, I saw it.

A car parked in the driveway.

Then voices.

Carried faintly through the still night air from the porch.

I stepped out slowly, the sound of my shoes against the pavement unnaturally loud.

And then I saw them.

I huddled in the shadows, my muscles locking tight as the voices of Mr. and Mrs. Miller drifted through the heavy oak doors. Beside them stood a man, I did not recognized—his voice steady as he asked for the one thing I couldn't bear to lose: Sherry's hand in marriage.

"Joshua," Mr. Miller's voice was a low rumble, "Sherry had been betrothed to Dylan since the day she took her first breath. To give our blessing would be to break a lifetime of promises." He paused, a breath of wind rustled the leaves, stirring the quiet evening. "However, we will not stand in the way of her happiness. If she says yes to you, we will not disapprove. The choice is hers alone.

The air in the driveway felt suddenly thin. They continued to chatter, their voices blurring into a dull hum until a single sentence pierced through: he intended to propose tomorrow evening.

I didn't wait to hear more. I slipped away, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, and sought out the one person who might have an answer. I found my Grandmother in the library, bathed in the amber glow of a reading lamp. She sat with a weathered book in her lap and a steaming cup of Earl Grey at her side.

"Back so soon?" she asked, peering over her spectacles.

The words tumbled out of me. As I recounted the overheard conversation, the lines on her face deepened into a map of confusion. "We have to move fast," she murmured, her gaze turning sharp.

"Grandmother who is this Joshua?"

"Sherry has been seeing him for the past two months. "Is it serious?"

"I guess serious enough for marry her or

"Or what?"

"He must be the gentleman who has stir up all this trouble, we won't know for sure unless we know who he really is."

"Grandmother..." I hesitated, the question burning in my throat. "Do you think she'll say yes?"

"I'm not sure. You must remember, Dylan, You left her for two months and she doesn't even know you've returned."

"Do you think she will accept my proposal?"

"She has too," she said softly. She is bound by the agreement, the promise that was made, between our families. She tilted her head, her eyes searching mine. "Have your feeling towards her changed?"

I lowered my head, staring at my shoes. The silence stretched between us, heavy and bittersweet. "The same," I whispered, I don't love her. "But I am willing to marry her for the sake of the family."

The following evening, as the sky deepened into a bruised purple, I decided the time had come; I would reveal myself to Sherry before this Joshua fellow made his move. I crept toward the porch, the silence of the twilight thick around me. Beside the creaking swing, two figures were silhouetted against the dim light, locked in a quiet conversation.

Sherry stood on the porch, framed by warm light spilling from inside the house.

And in front of her—

A man.

Kneeling.

My body stopped before my mind caught up.

The world narrowed to the exact shape of that moment: his posture, the angle of his head, the way Sherry's hands lifted slightly toward her mouth.

He held something out to her.

A ring.

I didn't hear anything after that.

Not the words.

Not the silence.

Only the sound of my own breath turning shallow as the realization settled in fully.

Then I moved.

Not quickly.

Not loudly.

Just forward.

Out of the shadow of the darkness, into the edge of their light.

And I made myself known.

The moment I stepped into view, everything changed.

Joshua turned his head first.

Then Sherry.

Her breath caught.

Her hand rose to her mouth, eyes widening as they locked onto mine.

"Dylan..." she whispered—barely a sound at all.

And for the first time since I came back—

I understood exactly what I had walked into.

But I didn't move.

Neither did he.

The proposal hung in the air between us like something unfinished.

Something waiting to be decided.

"You made your move. "I stepped closer. "Now it's mine."