A Forgotten Promise

The crystal chandelier's light spilled over the champagne tower, refracting into myriad delicate glimmers, reminiscent of the radiant moments that illuminated the three years Sunny Scott and I shared. I held her hand, standing at the center of the Banquet Hall, listening to the guests' blessings; through my fingertips, I felt the warmth of her palm, my heart full of hopeful anticipation for the future. "Mr. Luke, Miss Scott, truly a match made in heaven." Mr. Clark approached, holding a wine glass, his smile sincere and full of admiration. I smiled in response, my gaze drifting across the crowd, only to be arrested by an unexpected figure at the entrance. It was Jim Gabriel, the childhood friend Sunny Scott had once mentioned—the 'first love' she called a 'regret of youth.' He had not received an invitation, yet clad in a perfectly pressed suit, he strode directly toward us, his pace resolute to a glaring degree. The guests' murmurs gradually quieted, all eyes fixed on this unexpected visitor. I felt Sunny's hand tremble slightly, the warmth at her fingertips abruptly chilling. Jim Gabriel stood before us, his gaze gliding past me to rest firmly on Sunny Scott's face, bearing a tenderness verging on obsession. "Sunny, I have returned." His voice was low, yet it echoed clearly throughout the quiet banquet hall. He took from his briefcase a glass jar filled with multicolored lucky stars; sunlight filtered through the glass, causing the stars inside to shine with a rare brilliance. "Do you still remember? Ten years ago, I promised you that upon my return, I would give a thousand lucky stars for your answer." His voice bore a hint of hoarseness, as if the emotions long repressed had finally burst forth. I clasped Sunny Scott's hand more firmly, striving to remind her with my eyes of who we were in that moment, and of the three years of love we had shared. Yet she seemed unaware of the strength of my grasp, her eyes fixed intently on the glass jar, gradually growing red. "Jim..." she whispered softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "I know it is selfish to say this now," Jim Gabriel stepped forward, ignoring my presence. "But I cannot bear to see you marry another, Sunny. I have never forgotten you, nor the promises we made." The murmurs around us grew louder—some curious, some mournful, and others furtively scrutinizing my reaction. I had believed that three years of constant companionship, the hardships we endured together in launching our venture, and the mutual support through countless late nights would suffice to make her resolutely choose me. Yet Sunny Scott's next action utterly shattered all my illusions. She abruptly withdrew the hand I was holding and threw herself into Jim Gabriel's arms, embracing him tightly. "I have waited for you so long, Jim. I thought you would never return." Her sobs intertwined with her words, like knives piercing my heart. Jim Gabriel returned her embrace, resting his chin atop her head, his gaze filled with the preciousness of something regained and a barely perceptible challenge directed squarely at me. I stood frozen in place, as if the blood coursing through my veins had instantly congealed. Three years of love, in this single moment, became a cruel joke—a past she relinquished with such ease. The guests' gazes pierced me like needles—some shaded with sympathy, others with derision, and yet others with cruel delight. I drew a deep breath, stifling the sob lodged in my throat and the tumultuous pain swelling in my chest, then slowly raised my hand and began to applaud. The applause in the silent banquet hall rang out with an unsettling sharpness. "Good." I forced a smile, striving to keep my voice steady. "Congratulations, Miss Scott, your wish has been fulfilled." Upon hearing my voice, Sunny lifted her head from Jim Gabriel's embrace; a flicker of panic and guilt crossed her eyes, yet she showed no intent to break free. "Yale, I..." She parted her lips to speak, but Jim Gabriel interrupted her. "Mr. Luke, thank you for taking care of Sunny all this time," Jim Gabriel said, his arm around Sunny Scott's waist, his posture a clear declaration of possession. "From now on, I will be the one to protect her." I did not look back at them again and turned toward the exit of the Banquet Hall. Each step felt as though I were walking on the edge of a blade; the whispers behind me, Sunny Scott's sobs, and Jim Gabriel's comforting voice all faded into a blurred backdrop. Only the dull pain in my heart remained vivid and impossible to ignore. The engagement banquet ended in disarray, and early the next morning, Sunny Scott came to the apartment I rented. Her eyes were rimmed with red, clearly sleepless, and she wore the same dress from the engagement banquet the day before, now crumpled and wrinkled. "Yale, I want to explain to you." She stood at the doorway, her voice tinged with pleading. I stepped aside to let her in, saying nothing, merely leaning against the sofa, waiting for her so-called explanation. She sat opposite me, her hands tightly clenched together, "We promised each other when we were children that once he had completed his studies, we would be together." "And what about me?" At last, I spoke, my voice hoarse and foreign to my own ears, "What have these past three years between us meant?" "Yale, I am grateful for your care over these past three years, and I have depended on you," tears slipped down her cheeks, "But now that the company has grown and we have money, I have to keep that promise from long ago. Jim is an obsession I cannot relinquish from my heart." "Obsession?" I laughed—a bitter, desolate laugh. "So, all the hardships and joys we shared over three years mean less to you than a promise made ten years ago?" She gave no reply, only wept incessantly, apologizing to me and confessing how torn she felt. I gazed upon her tear-streaked face, and the last vestige of warmth within my heart faded away. I remembered how, three years ago, I quarreled bitterly with my father, severing all contact, in order to start a business with her. My father claimed she was too ambitious and unsuitable for me, yet I was resolute in proving to everyone that together we could forge a future. In those days, we squeezed into a tiny rented room, writing proposals together, chasing clients together, and staying up all night revising plans. Once, to secure an important project, we waited for the client in pouring rain for three hours; she shivered from the cold yet smiled and said to me, "Just hold on."