The night before the wedding, I ran.
My wedding dress dragged through the mud, my veil torn away by the wind. I burst out of the church like a madwoman, behind me the screams of guests and my fiancé’s voice shouting, “She’s gone crazy! Stop her!”
I wasn’t crazy.
I just saw the blood—on the altar, the candle flames suddenly exploded, licking up the cross like a crimson serpent’s tongue, revealing one word in flickering light: **RUN**.
Then I crashed into him.
A man in black stood in the rain, as if stepped out from a nightmare. I screamed, but he clamped a hand over my mouth. “Don’t make a sound. They’re coming.”
I thought he was an assassin.
But he said, “I’m not here to kill you—I’m your husband.”
I laughed bitterly. “You don’t even know my name.”
“Blair Winters. 28. Gemini. Afraid of heights but loves skydiving. A mole on your left shoulder.” He stared at me, his gaze too familiar, unsettlingly so. “And… you never wanted this wedding, did you?”
I froze.
The rain poured harder. Sirens wailed in the distance. Dark cars approached. He grabbed my hand and ran, voice hoarse, “If we don’t go now, we’ll both die.”
Hospital corridors, subway tunnels, abandoned clock towers—we fled like criminals. In fevered delirium, he muttered, “This isn’t a mission… it’s fate… our souls are bound…”
I checked his ID—empty.
Searched his phone—only one photo: me, smiling at the altar, and him standing behind me, dressed as a priest.
“What game are you playing?” I pressed a knife to his throat.
He smiled, bleeding. “You think you’re running from marriage? No. It’s fate finally marrying us.”
On the third day, the church bells rang again.
He knelt on one knee, pulling out a ring. Engraved inside were two names: **Liam & Blair**, dated ten years ago.
“That year, your car crashed. I saved you. But you forgot me. And the vow we made that day.” His voice cracked. “Now, our souls have found each other again. You can’t escape.”
I pulled away. “I don’t believe in fate. Or you.”
“Fine.” He stood, placing a gun on the altar. “Then shoot. Kill me—and you won’t survive the night.”
The wind lifted my wedding veil. In the flickering candlelight, I suddenly saw—his shadow bore **my face**.
And mine—was his.
We had swapped souls.
From that moment on, whoever falls in love first… loses.
Engines roared. We fled again. Through the ink-black night, he carried me across the city, stopping before an old house.
“Where is this?”
“The place we first met.” He tossed me a couch cushion. “You sleep here.”
I sneered. “Honeymoon night, and I get the couch?”
He turned away, shrugging off his coat—revealing a scar on his back. Same spot. Same shape. Mine.
“You forgot everything,” he whispered. “But your body remembers.”
The door closed. In the dark, I traced my scar—and wept.
Next chapter—
Whoever says “I love you” first… loses this fated game.
Heiress Blair uncovers her fiancé Ethan’s plot to kill her and flees—crashing into undercover agent Liam. When they wake up, they’re shocked to find they’ve swapped bodies.To escape danger and protect their identities, the two make a crazy choice: get married first, then figure out how to switch back.As they bicker through cohabitation, training, and missions, their reluctant partnership turns into real chemistry.But darker forces target Blair’s family fortune and seek to use Liam’s agent status.Together, this “wrong-body couple” must survive rising threats—and unexpectedly become each other’s safest place.
