“Congrats, Aria,” Nova said smoothly. “Today’s the best day of your life.”

She handed over a thick ivory envelope, then turned for the car.

“Wait—”

Too late. She lowered her glasses just enough to show recognition—cool, distant—and drove away.

Marcus frowned. “What was that?”

“An old friend,” Aria whispered, opening the envelope.

No card. Just a printout: bank transfer receipt.

Amount: $8,000.00

From: Marcus Reed

To: Aria Delgado

Memo: “Repaying principal and interest. And you owe me an apology. – N.”

Aria’s knees buckled.

Later, in the bridal suite, she cornered Marcus.

“Why is your name on this?”

He paled. “Aria—listen—”

“You know her?”

A beat. “Yes. Before you. We dated.”

“You dated Nova?”

“Years ago. I didn’t realize she was your Nova until you told me stories—and by then it felt… complicated.”

“You let me cry about her. You watched me search.”

“She reached out a few weeks ago. Said she wanted to make things right. I thought paying the debt would close it.”

“She used you to pay me back?”

Silence answered.

After midnight, a text from an unknown number.

Nova: You looked beautiful today. Tell Marcus he still keeps his promises. – N

Aria typed, Why did you do this? The message vanished—unsent, like a ghost rewinding time.

By morning, Marcus had left a Sunday note—Investors meeting. Back soon. Love you.

Aria searched online: Nova Han—cofounder of a sleek Salem creative agency. Luxury clients. Team photo: Nova in white, smiling like she owned daylight.

Unknown: Still thinking about yesterday?

Aria: Who is this?

Unknown: You know.

That night Marcus admitted more. “College. I borrowed ten grand from Nova for a startup. It crashed. I… disappeared.”

“So she settled both debts on my wedding day.”