3

I canceled everything for the wedding.

The banquet hall I had reserved months ago—when I called to cancel, the event manager kept asking, "Are you sure?"

It felt more like I was answering myself.

"Yes."

I was sure. I was done with this relationship.

As soon as I stepped out of the hotel, Maxwell called.

His voice practically pierced through the phone.

"Chloe Anderson, are you crazy? You canceled the hotel booking? Do you even realize my mom already sent out all the wedding invitations?"

I cut him off, "So what?"

He froze for a second, clearly not expecting me to talk back. I'd always been the compliant one. But he recovered quickly.

"Whatever. I'll just call the manager and get everything back on track."

I couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"I don't think that's necessary."

He must've sensed the seriousness in my voice.

"Is this about that stupid game? Really? I didn't know you were so sensitive."

He scoffed, "Stop acting childish. You know I can't stand women who make a scene."

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, lost in thought.

I guess I had my answer.

On the way there, I'd thought—if he apologized, would I give him another chance?

But I was being stupid.

All he needed was a wife. Someone his parents would approve of. A woman who wouldn't cause problems.

In his heart, someone else had always filled that role.

4

I collapsed onto my bed, utterly drained.

For months, I'd been running on adrenaline, planning every tiny detail of the wedding.

Now that everything was canceled, I should've felt relieved.

But instead, an overwhelming exhaustion washed over me.

My body was beyond tired, yet sleep wouldn't come.

I opened my chat with Maxwell, scrolling back through our old conversations.

The further back I went, the more messages there were.

It made me sigh—how did the Maxwell who once told me "You're incredible" turn into the man who now looked at me with such contempt?

I couldn't help but feel nostalgic for the way things used to be.

During that first year, he'd posted so many photos of us, sharing memories on his social media.

But over time, the posts stopped.

I scrolled down to read the comments.

One account, unfamiliar but frequent in his interactions, caught my eye.

Curious, I clicked on it.

The profile was filled with pictures of her.

It was Bella's secret account.

One post made me stop in my tracks. "I heard life isn't complete until you kiss the one you love under the fireworks at the amusement park!"

There was a photo of her kissing someone, but his face was blurred out.

Still, I recognized the jacket. It was Maxwell.

The same jacket I'd bought him for his birthday after working three jobs just to afford it—the one with my initials, CA, embroidered on the inside.

Back then, it had felt like a special bond between us. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

I remembered how I had promised him we'd watch the fireworks together.

But every time, something always came up for him.

He'd say, "There's always next time."

But "next time" never came.

I kept scrolling.

Another post read, "I'm so sick, but at least the person I love is here with me to get through IV."

I checked the date. It was on my birthday.

My mind flashed back to that night. The phone call that dragged him away from me.

We hadn't even lit the birthday candles before he had to leave.

I'd pleaded with him, "Maxwell, please don't go. Can't you stay?"

But he shook off my hand and said, "I've got an emergency. You'll understand right? You always does. I'll make it up to you."

So, that "emergency" had been her.

He had long forgotten his promise to celebrate my birthday every year.

My fingers swiped through her posts, scrolling faster.

There were so many comments on her account.

One in particular caught my attention.

"I'm so jealous of you two! Have you guys, you know, had s*x? When's the wedding?"

Bella had replied, "Of course we did! But I'm definitely not getting married just because of a baby."

The post was from three years ago.

The weight of betrayal coiled tighter around my chest, like a vine strangling me, ready to snap at any second.