The caption read, "Martin, hello. I've finally shown you my most beautiful self."
They looked like a loving couple, deeply in love.
Seeing the photo drained all the strength from my body.
No wonder Cindy always cried out in her dreams, "Max, don't leave me!" Suddenly, everything made sense.
Cindy loved calling me "Max".
From the moment we met, she had affectionately used that nickname.
Every time she spoke, she'd slip my name in, and I thought it was her way of showing affection, and it made me so happy.
After all, only those who are truly close use such intimate nicknames.
I used to hug her tightly and reassure her, "I'm here."
Now, looking back at her evasive glances, I finally understood—it wasn't me she was calling out to. Every time she uttered that name, it came from the depths of her heart, but it wasn't for me.
She was calling for her first love, not me.
I chuckled bitterly, liked the post, and locked my phone. Just then, my mom approached.
"Mark, what's going on? Did you upset Cindy? If so, go apologize." My mom, who had been anxiously overseeing all the wedding preparations, was visibly worried.