Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
When we were picking out our wedding rings, the jeweler brought out a diamond ring, and Brandon instinctively handed it to Vanessa.
Vanessa’s slender fingers showed off the diamond flawlessly.
Brandon stared, completely entranced, before turning to the clerk.
"Size 5. Have it custom-made to this size."
I held out my hand. "My ring size is a 7. That won’t fit me."
He frowned. "Your hands are practically the same size. As long as it looks good on her, it’s fine."
His friend Jason chuckled from the side.
"Come on, Chloe, don't be so petty. Back in college, everyone knew how hard Brandon chased Vanessa. Just let him fulfill an old dream."
Brandon didn't deny it. He just muttered, "Stop overthinking."
I smiled.
If this was his dream come true, I’d gladly step aside and let him have it.
"It's pitch black, and it's not safe for Vanessa to take a cab alone. I'm driving her home."
Brandon said this without even looking at me. He took Vanessa’s hand and led her straight to the passenger seat.
Vanessa glanced back, flashing me a sweet, innocent smile.
"Chloe, I’m so sorry. I hope you don't mind calling an Uber."
I nodded.
"It's fine. Go ahead."
The car door slammed shut, the engine roared, and the red taillights vanished into the night.
The November wind slashed against my cheeks like a blade.
I pulled my coat tighter and stood on the curb for fifteen minutes before my ride arrived.
Seeing me shivering in the back seat, the driver couldn't help but ask,
"Miss, it's freezing out. Why didn't your boyfriend drive you?"
"He was driving someone else," I said calmly.
The driver paused and didn't say another word.
Back at the apartment, I slipped off my shoes in the entryway, pulled out my phone, and called the venue.
"Hello, Cloudview Ballroom and Events."
"Hi, this is Chloe Bennett. I have a wedding hall booked for next weekend. I want to cancel both the ceremony and the reception."
The line went silent for two seconds.
"Ms. Bennett, your wedding date is only a week away. Per the contract, your deposit is non-refundable."
"I know. Keep the deposit. Just cancel everything."
"Understood. May I ask the reason for the cancellation?"
I gave a dry laugh. "I just don't feel like getting married anymore."
At eleven-thirty that night, the front door unlocked.
When Brandon walked in, he brought in the cloying scent of sweet floral perfume.
It wasn't his usual cologne. It was Vanessa’s signature scent.
He paused when he saw me sitting at my laptop.
"Still awake?"
"Working on my portfolio."
Assuming I was still sulking, he tossed his coat onto the couch.
"Don't be dramatic. The wedding is next week. Don't make a big deal out of the ring."
He walked into the bedroom without another word and crashed onto the mattress without even changing out of his clothes.
I shut my laptop, took a shower, and slept on the living room couch all night.
At seven the next morning, Brandon was still asleep.
I quietly slipped into the home office and pulled up all bank transfers and shared expense statements from the past five years.
I didn't bother nitpicking every cent. I simply exported every record I could find and backed them up into an encrypted folder.
Then, I opened a job board, found listings at three top architectural design firms in the city, and submitted my resume and portfolio.
Within half an hour, one of them—Apex Studio—replied, scheduling a video interview for the day after tomorrow.
I logged out of my email and closed my laptop.
As I walked out of the study, Brandon was just emerging from the bedroom.
"Why are you up so early?"
"I have blueprints to finish."
He nodded.
He poured a glass of water from the kitchen, then turned back as if remembering something.
"Oh, by the way. Vanessa just moved back to the city and doesn't have a place yet. I lent her our old apartment for the time being. Head over and clean it up sometime today."
Looking at his casual, entitled attitude, not a single ripple stirred in my chest.
"Okay."
Assuming I had surrendered as usual, he smiled, walked over, and patted my head.
"That's my girl. Be good."
I didn't dodge, nor did I say anything.
The moment he walked out the door, I pulled out my phone and dialed a moving company.
"Hi, I’d like to book a moving truck for this weekend. Do you have an opening?"
"We do. How much are you moving?"
I looked around the place I’d lived in for three years, letting my eyes sweep across every corner.
"Not much. Just my own things."
Hanging up, I stood on the balcony and watched Brandon’s car slowly pull out of the gate.
The morning sun was brilliant, but my heart had long turned to ice.
Brandon, you wanted your dream so badly?
I’m giving it to you."Vanessa's welcome-back dinner is tonight. You're coming with me."
Brandon stood at the bedroom door fastening his cufflinks, his tone leaving no room for debate.
I was busy tweaking a design layout and didn't even look up.
"I have drafts to finish tonight."
"How would it look if you didn't show up?"
He strode over and shut my laptop.
"What am I supposed to tell everyone if they ask?"
"Tell them I’m working overtime."
He frowned. "Chloe, can you stop making a scene?"
"The ring thing is in the past. You're my fiancée. You have to be there for occasions like this."
I looked at him, suddenly finding the whole thing pathetic.
"Fine. I’ll go."
When we arrived at the restaurant, seven or eight people were already seated in the private dining room, including Jason.
Vanessa was sitting right beside the head of the table, wearing a white dress.
The moment she saw us walk in, she stood up immediately.
"Brandon, Chloe, you made it!"
Brandon pulled out a chair for her to sit, then pulled out another for me—three seats away from Vanessa.
When the waiter handed over the menu, I flipped through and ordered a seafood chowder, my go-to dish whenever I came here.
Vanessa leaned over to look at the menu, then suddenly covered her mouth.
"What's wrong?"
Brandon tensed up instantly.
Vanessa blinked, looking utterly contrite.
"My skin has been breaking out badly lately. The doctor told me to stay away from seafood. I'm so sorry, I'm being such a burden."
She glanced at me.
"Chloe, please don't mind me. I didn't mean to ruin it."
Brandon’s face darkened immediately. He turned to the waiter.
"Cancel the seafood chowder."
I looked up. "I ordered that."
"Vanessa is allergic. How is she supposed to eat with seafood on the table?"
His tone was clipped and impatient. "Order something else."
"If she's allergic, she doesn't have to eat that dish. There are a dozen plates on this table; it's not all seafood."
Brandon slammed his fork onto the table, snapping in front of everyone,
"Can't you show a little consideration for someone else? Vanessa came all this way back from abroad. Do you have to be so petty?"
The room fell dead silent.
Jason cleared his throat twice to smooth things over.
"Alright, alright, just swap it for another dish. Chloe, just be the bigger person."
I looked at Jason, then at Brandon’s furious expression.
"Fine. Change it."
The seafood chowder was taken away. Vanessa lowered her head, murmuring, "Thank you, Brandon," a faint, barely perceptible smirk playing on her lips.
As the night went on, the mood picked up. After a few drinks, Jason started hyping up the room.
"Brandon, Vanessa’s been overseas for three years, and you two haven't seen each other once. Since this is her welcome dinner, you two have to do an arm-locked toast, right?"
Vanessa waved her hands frantically. "No, no, Chloe is right here. That would be so awkward."
Jason grinned. "Chloe doesn't mind, right? We're all friends here."
Everyone turned their eyes on me.
I held my glass of iced tea and said nothing.
Brandon hesitated for two seconds, then raised his glass, hooked his arm through Vanessa’s, and downed the drink.
Vanessa blushed, looking down with a radiant smile.
The room erupted into cheers and applause.
I took a sip of my tea. It had gone cold, tasting bitter and flat.
Something inside me completely burned out at that moment.
No anger. No tears. Just the hollow calm of dust finally settling.
When the dinner ended and we walked out of the restaurant, Vanessa grabbed Brandon’s sleeve.
"Brandon, thank you so much for tonight. Let me take you out to lunch sometime."
Brandon patted the back of her hand. "Don't mention it. Call me whenever you need anything."
I stood three paces away, waiting quietly for them to finish.
On the drive home, Brandon kept his eyes on the road. After a long silence, he spoke up.
"What was with that attitude tonight? You sat there with a stone-cold face the entire time. What are my friends supposed to think?"
"My face wasn't stone-cold."
"Jason told me you barely acknowledged him when he talked to you. You made my fiancée look completely uncultured."
I leaned against the window, watching the streetlights streak backward into the dark.
"It won't happen again."
Assuming I was backing down, Brandon’s tone softened.
"That's better. The wedding is next week. There will be bigger events in the future. You need to learn how to carry yourself."
I didn't argue, nor did I answer.
When the car pulled into our building's driveway, I stepped out first and walked ahead.
Brandon called out behind me, "Wait up."
I didn't stop. I walked straight into the elevator.
When he caught up, he chuckled, remarking that my temper was getting worse by the day.
I looked at my reflection in the elevator doors, completely expressionless.
I will never embarrass you again, Brandon.
Because you will never see me at one of those dinners again.At eleven that night, I woke up to excruciating abdominal pain.
Cold sweat poured off me, leaving me entirely powerless.
Brandon, who should have been home resting, was nowhere to be found.
Curled in agony, I had to dial 911 myself.
"Hello, I have severe acute abdominal pain. I can't move. My address is 802 Grandview Court, Building 3."
The paramedics arrived quickly. Unable to walk, I was carried down the stairs on a stretcher.
At the hospital, the emergency room lights were blindingly white.
The triage nurse took my vitals while asking,
"Where’s your emergency contact? Are you here alone?"
"I'll call him."
I dialed Brandon’s number. It rang six times before he picked up.
His voice dripped with irritation. "Do you know what time it is? Why are you calling?"
"I'm in the ER. Acute gastroenteritis. Can you come down here?"
The line paused for two seconds, and then Vanessa’s voice drifted through the receiver:
"Brandon, if we don't fix this pipe right now, the entire living room is going to flood!"
Brandon’s tone changed instantly, turning urgent and tender.
"Hang on, I'm right there."
Then he said to me, "A pipe burst at Vanessa’s place. I need to help her sort it out."
"Handle it yourself for now. I'll send you some money."
"Brandon, I am in the hospital."
"There are nurses at the hospital. It's not like you're dying. Take care of yourself."
He hung up.
Ten seconds later, a notification popped up on my phone: a Venmo transfer of $500.
I placed my phone facedown on the gurney and stared at the ceiling for a long time.
The nurse returned, handing me a clipboard of consent forms.
"Why is the next-of-kin line blank? Where’s your husband?"
"I'm not married."
The nurse gave me a look, didn't ask further, and took the paperwork away.
I registered, paid the copay, had my blood drawn, and hooked myself up to the IV alone.
When the needle went into the back of my hand, the nurse mentioned my veins were fragile; she had to poke twice to get it in.
I sat on the plastic chair in the emergency bay, my left hand holding the IV tube, my right hand clutching my stomach. Beside me was an elderly woman whose husband was gently peeling an orange for her.
Forty minutes into the IV drip, Jason pushed the door open.
He was holding a grocery bag of fruit, plopped down beside me, and crossed his legs.
"Brandon asked me to check on you. How are you holding up?"
"Why are you here?"
"Brandon couldn't get away. The burst pipe at Vanessa’s place flooded the floors pretty badly. He has to help clean it up."
I offered a faint smile and said nothing.
Seeing my silence, Jason leaned in and lowered his voice.
"Look, Chloe, not to be harsh, but don't use getting sick to test Brandon."
"He’s stressed out of his mind with wedding prep lately, and Vanessa just got back. Cut him some slack."
I lifted my head and looked straight into his eyes.
"Jason, I called 911 because acute gastroenteritis had me paralyzed on the floor. And you think I'm testing him?"
Jason shrunk under my gaze, laughing nervously.
"I didn't mean it like that. It's just that Brandon really has his hands full."
"Then do me a favor and tell him not to bother coming."
Jason blinked, clearly caught off guard by my bluntness. After sitting awkwardly for a few more minutes, he left.
Ten minutes after he was gone, the drip finished.
I had the nurse remove the needle. When I stood up, my legs were still shaking.
Stepping out of the hospital entrance, the cold night air hit my lungs, clearing my head completely.
I opened Venmo and refunded the $500 straight back to Brandon’s account.
Then, I called our old landlord.
"Hi, Brenda. Our lease on the old apartment still has three months left, right?"
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"I'm breaking the lease. I'll pay whatever penalty is in the agreement, and I'll have the place empty by tonight."
Brenda sounded surprised. "So sudden? You're not keeping it?"
"No. I'm moving everything out tonight."
Hanging up, I booked a late-night moving van and headed to the old apartment.
Brandon and I had rented that place together two years ago.
After moving to Grandview Court, the unit sat vacant until Brandon offered it to Vanessa.
Tonight, I was taking back every single thing that belonged to me.
Two hours later, every box was packed and loaded.
When Brenda arrived to collect the keys, she looked at the hollowed-out rooms with a twinge of pity.
"Honey, are you sure you’ve thought this through?"
"Completely."
I handed her the keys and climbed into the passenger seat of the moving truck with the final box.
Sitting in the truck, my phone buzzed.
It was a text from Brandon: *Vanessa’s place is taken care of. How are you? Feeling any better?*
I looked at the message. I didn't reply.
I simply locked the screen.Three days before the scheduled wedding.
Brandon opened the closet to look for a dress shirt and paused.
"Where are your clothes? Why is this half of the closet empty?"
I was sitting in the living room drafting plans, not even raising my head. "Sent them to the dry cleaner."
He didn't think twice about it, grabbed a jacket, and headed for the door. Right before stepping out, he turned around.
"Oh, by the way. Make sure you propose a toast to Vanessa on the wedding day. She doesn't have many friends since returning. Be gracious so she doesn't feel left out."
I put down my stylus and looked at him.
"Why on earth would I toast her?"
Brandon turned, his irritation obvious.
"She's my friend. What kind of attitude is that?"
"She's the dream girl you chased for four years. You think it's appropriate for your fiancée to toast her at our wedding?"
He scowled, his tone dropping cold.
"Chloe, here you go again. How many times do I have to tell you? I don't feel that way about Vanessa anymore. You're you, she's her."
"Then tell her not to come to the wedding."
"The invitation is already sent! How do you expect me to uninvite her?"
He checked his watch.
"I don't have time to argue with you about this. Vanessa’s art gallery opens the day after tomorrow, and I have to supervise the venue setup."
The door slammed shut.
I stayed where I was, listening to his footsteps fade down the hallway.
An art gallery opening, and he cared more than anyone.
Meanwhile, I hadn't even had a single fitting for my wedding dress.
At three that afternoon, the doorbell rang.
A delivery courier carried in two massive bouquets of white lilies. The flowers were in full, lush bloom, their fragrance saturating the entire apartment.
I stepped back instantly, my throat constricting.
The card read: *Wishing you a successful exhibition. —Brandon.*
I stared at the card for three seconds as my nose began to itch and red hives flared across my skin.
I had told him about my severe allergy to lilies during our very first year of dating.
Back then, he had aggressively intercepted a bouquet sent by one of my coworkers, remembering every detail.
Now, he had personally ordered two giant bundles delivered to our home.
I put on a mask, shoved both bouquets and their vases into heavy-duty trash bags, and dragged them down to the dumpster.
Back upstairs, the hives had spread from my arms to my neck, burning and itching fiercely.
I swallowed two Claritin pills, collapsed on the sofa, and waited for the medication to kick in.
Once the swelling eased, I stood up and walked into the bedroom.
Most of my things were already gone, leaving only the final essentials.
I packed everything into two suitcases and called the final moving van.
By the time everything was moved into my new place, it was nine o'clock at night.
I had rented a modest, $800 studio apartment forty minutes away from Grandview Court.
There was nothing inside except a twin bed and a bare wardrobe, but lying on that firm mattress, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace.
My phone rang. It was Brandon.
"Where are you? I came home and the place is empty."
"I'm at a friend's place. I'm not coming home tonight."
He fell quiet for two seconds.
"What are you throwing a fit over now? The wedding is in three days. Do you have any idea how bad it looks for you to run off like this?"
"I'm not throwing a fit. I just wanted to catch up with a friend."
"Chloe, drop the attitude. Come home and be my bride, and don't make me repeat myself."
His voice carried a sickening condescension, as if letting me be his bride was the ultimate charity.
"Okay," I said.
Just that single word.
The second I ended the call, I opened my contacts, found his name, and tapped the settings.
Blocked.
Then I blocked his number, his texts, and every possible channel he could use to reach me.
When that was done, I laid my phone beside my pillow and stared at the yellowish ceiling light.
Three years ago, when he was courting me, he told me:
"Chloe, I will never let you carry anything alone."
Now, that promise was rotting in the trash can downstairs right alongside those two bouquets of lilies.
On the day of the wedding, the Cloudview Grand Ballroom was packed with guests.
Dressed in a bespoke tuxedo, Brandon arrived at the hall with Vanessa.
Vanessa wore a soft pink gown, clinging to Brandon’s arm as if she were the hostess.
Brandon scanned the grand hall, but there was no sign of me.
He pushed open the bridal suite door. The room was pitch black and completely empty. Not even the vanity lights were on.
Frowning, he pulled out his phone and dialed my number, only to hear the automated message that the call could not be completed.
Assuming I was just being childish, he told Jason to call me. Jason got an out-of-service tone.
Embarrassment crept up his neck. He turned to find the master of ceremonies, ordering him to stall for time.
Just then, the venue director hurried over clutching a file.
"Mr. Miller, there's something we need to confirm with you."
Brandon glanced at him impatiently.
"What is it? The ceremony is about to start."
The manager held out the paperwork—a cancellation receipt, clearly stating the cancellation date and the refund processing records.
"Mr. Miller, this wedding was already canceled a week ago by Ms. Bennett. The deposit was also forfeited."
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
- Search this code in the NovelMaster app:
503526Open NovelMaster → Search code → Find the title