Alisa felt her good mood slipping away as she noticed Jason hadn''t nced her way even once. Frustrated, she walked over to him and asked, "Does this dress not look good on me?"


    She knew Monica had bought a simr dress, and Alisa had asked the store clerk to fetch her the same one-a bright orange maxi dress. However, unlike Monica, who had a fairplexion and a figure that could pull off anything, Alisa had to opt for arger size to


    amodate her wider shoulders and a bit of extra padding around her waist and hips.


    Wearing the dress, Alisa felt it did her no favors. Herplexion, her hair, everything seemed mismatched with the bold color. It just didn''t pop; instead, it dulled her down to looking like any ordinary woman who would blend into the crowd.


    Jason, absorbed in his phone, was scrolling through Facebook when he stumbled upon a post by Monica. She was wearing the same orange dress, but it looked spectacr on her. Her fair skin glowed against the color, and her figure was highlighted beautifully, with her hair elegantly tied up, exposing her graceful corbones. The picture was taken at Southridge Estates, where she and Anastasia were enjoying afternoon tea.


    The noise from Alisa finally drew Jason''s attention, and he noticed her dress-a replica of Monica''s. As someone who appreciated aesthetics, his brain couldn''t help but make theparison.


    He frowned and asked, "Anastasia, when did you get that dress?"


    "Picked it up this afternoon. How does it look?" Alisa twirled around, trying to show off the dress with a smile that didn''t quite reach her eyes.


    The dress had cost her over ten grand. She hadn''t felt the pinch when buying it, but now the regret was palpable. She hadn''t even removed the tag, which was still tucked inside.


    Jason saw through her attempt to mimic Monica. "Anastasia," he said gently, "everyone has their own style and personality. Just be yourself."


    Alisa''s smile faltered, and she looked at him, crestfallen. "You don''t like it, do you? Jason, I don''t want you calling me Anastasia-please, just call me Alisa, okay?" "Anastasia, I-"


    "Call me Alisa," she insisted, clutching the dress tightly, her voice rising with emotion. "I''m already yours, Jason. After we move Will, we should set a date to get engaged. Your mom''sing over soon, right? It''d be the perfect time for our families to discuss the wedding." "Anastasia, I can''t marry you," Jason said with a heavy heart. "And I won''t. I''ll make it up to you, whatever you need, but I can''t marry you."


    "I don''t want anything else I want you to marry me. I''m already yours," Alisa cried, her determination unyielding. "Everyone knows about us, even Big Daniel''s mom. They''re all expecting us to get married. I could be a good wife to you. I''ll work hard to be as beautiful and capable as Monica."


    Despite Alisa''s emotional plea, Jason remained steadfast. He patiently exined, "Anastasia, even if Monica wasn''t in the picture, I wouldn''t marry you. We''re not right for each other. You''re Will''s wife, and marrying you would be a betrayal to him. Besides, I don''t love you, and we wouldn''t be happy."


    He was clear and direct, words like a sharp knife, but necessary. He should have addressed this earlier; he owed her closure but couldn''tmit to a life with her.


    "Will is gone," Alisa shouted, losing control. "I have to marry you, Jason. You owe it to me, to Will. You have to spend your life making it up to us."


    Jason, now exasperated, retorted, "Do you want my life instead?"


    To Alisa, those words cut deeper than anything. For a man to choose death over marriage to her was the ultimate humiliation.


    Tears streamed down her face as she wiped them away. "I''s waiting for me at home. I''ll leave now, but I''ll be back tomorrow."


    As she walked away, wearing a dress that cost more than ten thousand dors, she wasn''t ready topletely burn bridges with Jason.


    When she reached the hospital entrance, she identally knocked over a janitor''s bucket, staining her expensive dress. Her frustration boiled over. "Look what you''ve done! This dress is ruined. It cost over ten thousand dors!"


    The janitor, flustered by the im, retorted, "You knocked it over yourself! And you expect me to believe that dress cost that much? You look like you''re trying to pull a fast one. Who do you think you''re fooling?"