My Funeral, Your Wedding

My name is Katharine Lincoln. At this moment, I stand in a corner of the banquet hall, fingers gripping a cold glass. The light from the crystal chandelier shattered on the floor, much like the ballet slippers that were broken so many years ago. A commotion stirred at the doorway. Christian Hoffman appeared. He wore a bespoke suit, adorned with pearl cufflinks — the coming-of-age gift I had saved up for three months to buy him. Reporters swarmed around him, their microphones nearly pressing against his face. "Mr. Hoffman, what is your take on this year's fluctuations in the financial market?" "It's saying that the Christian Group is acquiring a tech company in Country M. Is this true?" A faint smile played at the corner of his mouth as he answered effortlessly, as if he were born to stand in the spotlight. My heart clenched abruptly. Five years have passed, and I thought I could face him with calm. But when his gaze swept over me, sharp as an icy blade, I couldn't help but step back half a pace. He saw me. That faint smile disappeared instantly, replaced by a hatred so fierce it seemed ready to spill from his eyes. A reporter noticed the tension between us and curiously asked, "Mr. Hoffman, do you know this young lady?" Christian didn't reply at once. He lifted a glass of champagne from the waiter's tray and took a measured sip. Then, under everyone's gaze, he looked at me, his voice low but clear enough for those around to hear: "Of course." "We knew each other before." "But she's someone who should have disappeared long ago; it would be a great thing if she died." Those words fell like a heavy hammer striking my heart. Whispers rose around me, those glances piercing me like needles. I bit my lip hard, fighting the tears back. Yes, we were no longer the Katharine and Christian we once were. We had become enemies. He was the one who personally dismantled my dance troupe, shattering the dreams I once cradled in my palms. It was he who cornered me in the alley on that rainy night, the cold steel pipe pressed against my leg, his eyes utterly devoid of hesitation. And in his mind, it was I who, at his company's most trying time, allied with his competitors, leaving him ruined, nearly driven to jump from a building. Between us, there was nothing left but hatred. "Katharine?" A gentle voice sounded beside me. I turned my head and saw Kate Hoffman. She wore a pink gown, her long hair arranged into an exquisite bun, the diamond necklace around her neck a rare treasure Christian had acquired at auction last year. She was an orphan whom Christian took in; later, she took his last name and is now his fiancée. "Ms. Hoffman." I tried to keep my voice steady. Kate suddenly stepped forward, deliberately brushing the hem of her skirt against my hand. "Katharine, what are you doing here?" Her face wore an innocent expression, but her voice was deliberately raised, "This is a business cocktail party; not just anyone can get in, right?" The gazes around us instantly grew sharper. I clenched my palm tightly, my nails almost digging into my flesh. "I've received the invitation." I pulled the invitation from my bag and held it out to her. Kate didn't even look at it; instead, as if she'd been burned, she took a step back and exclaimed, "Ah!" Her hand brushed the hem of her dress, where a dark stain had appeared without her noticing. "My dress..." Her eyes reddened as she looked toward Christian who had just approached. "Christian, my dress is stained." Christian immediately stepped forward and shielded her behind him. His gaze fixed on me with a fierceness that seemed to want to tear me apart. "Katharine, did you mean to do it?" "I didn't." I explained. "Didn't?" Christian sneered coldly and grabbed my wrist so hard I winced, "When you destroyed my company back then, why didn't you say 'didn't'? Why pretend to be innocent now?" His words were like knives, cutting into my heart again and again. The reporters around us raised their cameras in unison, flashes flashing incessantly. I looked into the hatred in Christian's eyes and suddenly felt utterly exhausted. Five years. We have tormented each other for five years. Enough. Really, enough. I pulled my hand free with force, stepped back two paces, looked at him and Kate, and said, word by word, "Christian, from today onward, I, Katharine, declare that the cursed bond between you and me is utterly ended until death." Having spoken, I turned and, amid a flurry of camera flashes and murmurs, walked out of the banquet hall. The wind outside was cold, biting my face like shards of ice. I looked up at the night sky; stars were sparse, with only a waning moon hanging above. Just like the past between Christian and me—left nothing but a frozen wasteland.