Chapter 1

He claimed he couldn’t marry her. A wife’s duties—preparing daily meals, tending to husband and children, serving in-laws—would cage her. He said he loved her too much to limit her freedom.

I stared at the screen, my chest tightening. Yet I remained silent, composed.

The next morning, I returned to the TV station. Unknown to Jackson, I had a transfer request prepared—to become a war doctor in Azora. As I signed my name, I drew a deep breath. The one I truly loved waited on those distant battlefields. I was going to find him.

“You’re returning to medicine?!” The startled voice echoed through the hospital hallway.

I handed over my reassignment papers. “Yes, I’d like a permanent position in the Nyara Republic.”

The director paused, studying the form. His brow furrowed. He exhaled softly, searching for words. “Your work in the Nyara Republic three years ago was exceptional. But now? You’re on marriage leave! You’re about to be married—how can you take such a risk?”

He watched me, expecting an explanation.

I lowered my gaze, fingers intertwined. “I’m not getting married.”

“What?” Shock registered on his face.

Meeting his eyes, I stated, “I’m calling off the wedding.”

Chapter 2

The night before, Jackson had asked me to send him a list of wedding tableware from his computer. Opening the “Wedding Plans” folder, I stumbled upon another spreadsheet—his relationship ledger. Six women, each meticulously cataloged: height, appearance, family background, personality traits. My entry topped the list.

Name: Zoey Background: Orphan, limited social connections Personality: Dutiful, maternal, unambitious Notes: Proficient in household duties, suitable for childbearing. Highlighted in yellow: “Ideal for marriage.”

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, heat pricking my eyes. After a moment, I scrolled down.

His assessments of the others were equally clinical: “Excessive spending habits—rejected,” “Poor work ethic—rejected,” “Has dependent sibling—rejected.”

Until the final entry: Sara. Her page held no ratings, no analysis. Just a single line: “You are a bird, meant to soar proudly into distant skies.”

This time, I didn’t hesitate. I closed the folder, erased the files, and opened another document—my unfinished application for a medical position in the Nyara Republic, where surgeons were desperately needed.

As I signed my name, clarity washed over me: I wasn’t meant for a cage built to ground a free spirit. More importantly, the man who truly held my heart was still there, waiting.

Chapter 3