The Second Male Lead's Pursuit​​

The moment I successfully completed my redemption task and was free to leave the world of the novel, the second male lead, Michael, confessed his love for me. I couldn’t bear the thought of him returning to the lonely, desolate life he’d lived before, so I chose to stay. We fell in love, a whirlwind romance just like any normal couple, and with everyone’s blessing, we walked toward the altar. Until our wedding day, when a girl crashed the ceremony. "Michael will betray you in the future! Don't marry him!" she screamed. "Who are you?" Michael’s voice was firm, his eyes fixed on me, filled with nothing but adoration. "Allison and I are deeply in love. If you continue to spread these lies and ruin our wedding, don't expect me to be polite." The girl ignored him, her gaze locked on me, her eyes red-rimmed and desperate. "Mom," she pleaded, "please, believe me… this man will not make you happy." 1 Every guest in the hall froze. A few seconds later, the tense silence broke into a wave of poorly suppressed chuckles. I’m twenty-four. The girl looked like she had just turned eighteen. How could I possibly be her mother? But she seemed oblivious to the mocking stares, her eyes still fixed on me, pleading. "He won't bring you happiness. He’ll only make you cry." "He’ll tell you he’s busy with work on every holiday, but he'll be spending them with someone else." "He and that bitch, Samantha, have been tangled up for over a decade!" At the name "Samantha," a chill ran down my spine. She was the original female lead of the novel, the woman Michael had been secretly in love with for years. How did this girl know about Samantha? "What nonsense are you talking about? I haven't had any contact with her in years!" Michael's voice was sharp, and he turned to me, his expression laced with anxiety. "Allison, don't listen to her. We haven't seen each other at all." 2 Michael wasn't lying. Samantha had moved abroad four years ago and had never come back. In those four years, our relationship had been wonderful. We had never once fought over the ghost of his past love. "I believe you," I said. "Mom, he's lying…" The hotel security finally arrived, unceremoniously hauling the girl out. "False alarm, everyone! Let's continue, let's continue!" "Now, where were we?" Friends and family raised their glasses, trying to salvage the atmosphere, but it was impossible. The floral arrangements were knocked over, the aisle was a mess, and the officiant, having never witnessed such a scene, stood there in a daze. The hotel manager came to apologize personally, offering to compensate us and reschedule the entire event. "What kind of security are you running here? You can't even handle a teenage girl?" Michael's face was dark, a rare flash of anger directed at someone other than me. Only after the manager left did his features soften. He rested his chin on my shoulder. "You're not angry at all?" How could I not be? When the System had told me my task was complete, that I could go home, it also meant my story with Michael would end. 【You want to stay?】the System had asked. "Yes. Michael just confessed to me." I’d always read fairy tales and imagined the prince and princess lived happily ever after. Now, someone had just crashed my own fairy tale to tell me the ending was a complete train wreck. My mind was a chaotic mess. That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. A pair of strong arms pulled me into an embrace. Michael, half-asleep, murmured as his hand moved down, finding my cold feet. "Did the cold wake you?" He expertly tucked my feet under his shirt to warm them, shivering himself from the chill but pulling me even tighter. Listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, I just shook my head, trying to banish the chaotic thoughts from my mind. 3 Sensing my low spirits, Michael took charge of all the wedding arrangements. He told me to just relax and wait, promising he would give me the grand, once-in-a-lifetime ceremony I deserved. In the meantime, I went back to work. I didn't expect to see the girl from the wedding—she’d called herself Thea—at the coffee shop downstairs from my office. I had wondered if she was a Tasker like me, but the System had been clear: there could only be one outsider in each book. Thea stared at me for a long time. "This is the first time I've seen you dressed like this." It was just standard professional attire, but it seemed to trigger a flood of memories for her. "I've never seen you in heels. Your hair was always tied back in a bun, never down like this—it was inconvenient for housework." "You never wore belted coats like that one. They’re too hard to maintain, and you never had anywhere to wear them." Her gaze shifted to my wrist. "Your hands were always bare, except for a simple wedding band. You were devastated when you lost one earring, so you just wore plastic spacers to keep the holes from closing. Eventually, you got too busy and forgot even that. The piercings closed up." I managed a small smile. "That won't happen. I don't like that kind of life." "What is your life like now?" Although I was still an orphan in this world, the System had given me a proper identity. I had a history here—I went to college, pursued Michael, fell in love, and made friends. I had my own social circle, my own career, and I was about to start a family with the man I loved. "So I won't end up like you described," I said. "I'm very happy with my life right now. I love my job." I picked up my bag to leave, but Thea grabbed the corner of my coat. "But what if you get pregnant?" 4 I froze, studying Thea's face carefully for the first time. When she furrowed her brow, she looked so much like Michael. That night, Michael's kisses trailed from my shoulders down to my waist, his touch a teasing fire through the fabric of my nightgown. The moment his fingers hooked the strap to pull it aside, I instinctively caught his hand. Michael smoothed my hair back, his lips moving to my ear. "I thought we agreed to just let nature take its course?" "If we have a child, who will take care of it? Will I have to quit my job? I’m up for a promotion right now, and I don't want to miss this opportunity." Michael stilled. After a long moment, he spoke. "Allison, you believed her, didn't you?" I was taken aback. "Ever since that girl showed up, you haven't been yourself. You believed what she said, that I would neglect our family, that I would be a bad husband to you." I rubbed my temples. "If we let nature take its course, these are all things we have to consider." Michael's voice grew heavy. "She's a complete stranger, Allison. But you're already letting her words define our future." In the darkness, I couldn't see his expression. I lifted the covers and slipped into his arms, my face brushing against the stubble on his chin. He had been so busy, juggling work and replanning our wedding, that he hadn't even had time to shave. But a sense of unease still plagued me through the night. I took a day off and went to the doctor. As I sat staring blankly at the test results, Thea appeared and sat down beside me. "My birthday is July 23rd," she said softly. Nine months from now. The report in my hand confirmed I was already over a month pregnant. After we had decided to get married, we had stopped being careful. One of those times had planted this seed. "You compromised," Thea said. "No," I denied it instantly. "I have no intention of giving up my career." Thea just looked at me. "That's not what I'm talking about." I froze, my mind flashing back to the night before, to the drawer I had opened and then closed. "You didn't retreat all at once," she whispered. "You gave ground, step by step." 5 Looking at Thea, I was suddenly terrified of what she might say next. As I was leaving, she reached out and grabbed my arm again. "You still don't believe me?" "We're a couple about to get married. Getting pregnant is a perfectly normal thing." As for what came after, we could work it out. It didn't have to end up the way she described. "Give it two weeks," Thea said, closing her eyes. "Decide whether you'll tell him in two weeks." I didn't know what she meant by that. That night, Michael said something urgent had come up at the office and threw on his coat to leave. I followed him. His car didn't go toward his office. It parked next to a restaurant. He sat alone for fifteen minutes before a familiar figure pushed through the door. Samantha. "It's been a long time," she said, extending a hand. "I wasn't sure you'd come." 6 I hadn't seen her in four years, but she was just as the novel described her: pure, gentle, and graceful. I unconsciously crumpled the menu in my hands, watching Michael's reaction. His expression was cold, distant. "I forgot to tell you," he said, ignoring her outstretched hand. Samantha awkwardly retracted it and was about to sit down. "I'm getting married." The words came out in a rush. Michael's hand moved instinctively toward his pocket for a cigarette, then stopped as he remembered he was in a public place. He looked calm, but I knew him. That small, aborted movement was a sign of immense turmoil. "Married?" Samantha nodded. "I heard. To Allison, right?" "Yes." Michael seemed agitated, as if he couldn't bear to stay a second longer. "I have to go. There's something at the office." Samantha grabbed the hem of his coat, her expression wounded. "Michael, I know it's probably too late for me to come back now. But… can't we at least be friends? You helped me so much in the past… If it’s okay, could you just… walk with me for a bit?" 7 The moment the words were out, Samantha seemed to realize her mistake. She let go of his coat, stood up first, and mumbled an apology before walking out of the restaurant. Through the glass door, I saw her raise a hand to wipe away a tear. Michael hesitated, then his steps toward the exit seemed rushed, almost frantic. He pushed the door open, then stopped dead in his tracks. He turned back and asked the waiter for a pack of tissues. I couldn't hear what he said through the glass. I only saw his hand, holding his coat, lift as if to drape it over her shoulders, then fall back to his side. He didn't give her the coat, but he stood in front of her, shielding her from the wind. He couldn't bring himself to refuse her. They walked down a familiar street, golden leaves scattered like lonely confetti on the cobblestones. Before Samantha left the country, this was the street where Michael would "accidentally" run into her every day. His bright eyes would dim the moment he saw the male lead walking beside her. And every time, I would be trailing behind, waiting for Michael to turn around. "Why are you turning back? You got all dressed up, even got a haircut, just to walk down this lane, didn't you?" The teenage Michael was stunned at being found out. "It would be a shame to leave now," I’d said. "The person I was waiting for stood me up, too. Why don't we walk together?" "I wasn't waiting for anyone," he’d retort, but his ears would be burning red. "Okay, okay, you weren't waiting. Consider it my invitation, then." The truth was, I had also worn my favorite dress and a new hairclip. But just as Samantha never saw him, Michael never saw me. He refused my invitation, but that didn't stop us from becoming partners in misery on that lonely lane. After it happened enough times, Michael finally snapped. He stopped and turned to me, his voice harsh. "I will wait for her. I am waiting for her. Stop wasting your time." I looked him straight in the eye. "And I will wait for you." Michael froze. And so did I. 8 The truth is, I had fallen for Michael long before the System brought me into this world. So when I was tasked with his redemption, I was ecstatic. Every day, my only thought was to make him a little happier, just a little bit more. The first time we walked down that lane together, we didn't say a word. The second time, the third, the fourth… we finally started walking side by side. Then came holding hands, then kissing. We used the fallen leaves as our wedding confetti as he whispered his confession in my ear. He had faced so much disappointment. I wanted to fill every empty space, piece by piece. One day, I thought, he would finally see me. I would make him see only me. A dry twig snapped under my foot with a sharp crack— I came back to the present and stopped walking. Michael and Samantha were walking side by side, not speaking. He was just silently accompanying her down the entire length of the street. Their silhouettes blurred in my vision. 9 When Michael came home, he brought a box of raspberry mochi. I had once told him it was my favorite, but the private dessert shop that made it was in the next city over. He took off his coat and came over, his hands closing around my cold ankles. "Why are you standing barefoot on the floor again?" He gently put socks on my feet and tucked them into my fuzzy slippers. I looked down at his gentle face. "Where were you?" "I had a last-minute meeting." "Do they sell this mochi in your conference room?" The air went still. Michael rubbed his brow. "What are you trying to say?" I just stared at him, not speaking. He seemed to grow irritated under my scrutinizing gaze. "How long are you going to let those baseless accusations make you paranoid?" My heart felt like it was being squeezed, a sour, painful ache spreading through my chest. "You didn't meet with Samantha?" Michael froze, then his face filled with disbelief. "You followed me?" 10 He let out a long sigh. "She came back a few days ago. I only found out today. She was just catching up with old classmates, not just me." "You should have told me." "I was afraid you'd overthink it." He reached for a cigarette again, then glanced at me and stopped. "Since you saw everything, you know we just met for a moment." "Just met?" A bitter laugh escaped my throat. Michael's brow furrowed. "Can you stop with the sarcasm? Did we kiss? Did we flirt? Did we sleep together?" No. None of that. Not even a touch of hands. To anyone else, it would look exactly like two old friends catching up. Nothing more. Was I being too possessive? Too petty? I had seen Michael with Samantha before, when his crush on her was at its peak, and I’d never felt like this. "But this is different." "How is it different?" "How could you walk down that lane with me, and then walk down it with someone else?" "It's just a street, Allison!" Just a street. Is that all? I waited on that street for him. For so, so long. Through wind and rain, thunder and scorching sun. I waited for so long just for him to finally turn around. And in his eyes, it was just an insignificant road he could walk down with anyone? "Then why did you wait on that street every single day back then?" Michael suddenly fell silent. "You understand, don't you?" I whispered. "You were just like me." He knew it was different. 11 I can't remember the last time Michael and I gave each other the silent treatment. But this time, our friends were more anxious than we were. After the disastrous first wedding, they were all eagerly awaiting the second one, for a sense of finality. "He met with Samantha," I told my best friend over the phone. There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a cautious, "What did they do?" I realized I didn't know how to explain it. It seemed everyone would think it was just a walk, no big deal. That I was being overly sensitive. "That doesn't seem like a huge deal, does it?" Her response was exactly what I’d expected. "If they walked together in broad daylight, doesn't that prove they’ve really moved on? Allison, honestly, are you letting what that girl said get to you?" They told me to think about the good times. When it came to Michael and me, my friends were always full of stories. On Christmas Eve of our first year together, Michael took an overnight train just to bring me a single, perfect candied apple. To experience the first snow of winter with me, he stood outside my dorm for hours until I came down, bleary-eyed for my 8 AM class, and pulled me into his arms. "Michael? What are you doing here?" "You said so," he’d murmured, repeating a message I’d sent him about an old saying—that to be covered in the same snow meant growing old together. Michael was clumsy with his hands, but because I loved embroidery, he learned to use a needle, often pricking his fingers until they bled. He even designed and hand-embroidered my wedding shoes, staying up for nights on end, nearly exhausting himself into a stupor. When my friends recounted these memories, their faces would light up, as if it all happened yesterday. They were right. We had so much history. They just met once after four years and took a walk. It didn't mean he didn't love me. 12 I recounted these stories to Thea, my voice bright and animated. "Did you know? That winter, he stood in the snow for—" "For hours, just to see the first snow with you," Thea interrupted, finishing my sentence. "He also used to go to the next city over to buy you your favorite raspberry mochi. And he knitted you both matching scarves. You were once sharing one while walking down the street and almost got hit by a car. He held you so tight and rolled with you to the curb to save you." She spoke with such familiarity, as if someone had told her these stories a thousand times. I stopped, taking a sip of coffee. "We were happy after we got married, weren't we?" Thea suddenly went quiet. It was the first time I’d seen her so silent. "You always use these stories to prove to me that you were in love," she said softly. "But Mom, how can a person live their whole life on memories?" "If you were really so in love, why did you have to keep telling these stories?" I realized my hand, holding the coffee cup, was trembling. I gripped the spoon tightly and stirred. "Them meeting… did I tell you about that, too?" Thea shook her head. "You never said a bad word about him in front of me." She wrote a string of characters on a napkin and slid it across the table. "I saw it here."

? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "394292", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel