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Left At The Altar

NovelMaster · English · Theater: NovelMaster, Lang: English, Genre: Realistic, Genre: Romance, Genre: Reborn ·

Left At The Altar

Theater: NovelMaster  |  Language: English  |  NEW

Synopsis

The night before our wedding, Chloe got completely wasted at a bar.
Her childhood best friend, Dylan, was the one who brought her home. When they said goodbye, they clung to each other like star-crossed lovers.
Chloe was practically draped across his chest, slurring her confession:
"Honestly... you're the one I've always wanted to marry."
Dylan offered me a careless shrug. "Chloe had a few too many drinks, man. We're like brothers."
The next second, I saw his new Instagram post. It was a picture of a diamond ring, captioned:
A promise I could never deliver.
Chloe was the very first person to like it.
This wasn't the first time they blurred the lines between friendship and something more.
Only this time, I was truly sick of it. I called out to the System that had been dormant in my mind for years:
"I'm tired. Send me back."
When Chloe finally woke up the next morning, my bags were already packed.
She slept past noon, completely oblivious to the fact that our wedding ceremony had been scheduled hours ago. Rubbing her eyes, she snapped at me out of habit, "Where's breakfast?"
Chloe had a sensitive stomach and loved drinking. Every single time she got hungover, I would make her soup from scratch and have a hot meal waiting for her the next morning.
She had long grown used to my devotion, taking every bit of it for granted.
"Takeout menus are on the counter," I said flatly. "Order it yourself."
Chloe froze for a second. Irritated, she ran a hand through her tangled hair. "Are you still sulking over last night?
"It was just a bachelorette party my friends threw for me! Dylan and I grew up together. Can you stop being so damn insecure and paranoid for once?"
I had heard those exact words a thousand times.
She and Dylan were inseparable growing up. They were tighter than two peas in a pod.
They fought each other's battles, skipped class together, and ended up at the same company after college. They set each other up on dates and spent over two decades playfully bantering.
Naturally, there was no room for an outsider like me to squeeze in.
A bitter ache bloomed in my chest. I pulled up Dylan's Instagram on my phone. "Is this what you call pure friendship?"
Not only had Dylan left the post up all night, he had even pinned it to the top of his profile.
It sat there like a glaring trophy, daring me to react.
The comments underneath were filled with Chloe's friends egging him on. Some said he and Chloe were made for each other.
Some told him to just confess already. A few even dared him to crash our wedding.
Dylan had replied to only one comment: I just want her to be happy.
A single sentence, dripping with unspoken heartache and noble sacrifice.
Yet I was the one who was her actual fiancé.
I had spent seven years loving Chloe and proposed to her three times. I genuinely believed that if I held on long enough, love would win out.
Instead, I had become nothing more than an unwanted third wheel in someone else's epic romance.
How pathetic.
Chloe's eyes darted away for a fraction of a second before her face hardened into impatience.
"It's just a silly social media post. What does it prove? Stop being so petty.
"Besides, I agreed to marry you, didn't I? What else do you want from me?"
Her condescending tone made it sound as if marrying me was an act of charity.
I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. Whatever lingering affection I had left evaporated into thin air.
Chloe walked over, wrapped her arms around my waist, and softened her voice into a placating purr.
"Come on. Dylan is harmless. He doesn't have an evil bone in his body. Stop throwing a tantrum."
The same old trick.
Whenever I voiced my frustration over her inappropriate dynamic with Dylan, Chloe would throw me a tiny bone of affection just to defend him.
And every single time before, I had taken the olive branch.
But this time, I was exhausted.
I couldn't even muster the energy to get mad.
After all, I was leaving anyway.
When I first arrived in this world, the System told me that the only way to return home was to win Chloe's heart.
So I approached her, memorized everything she liked, and found every excuse to be in her orbit. Back then, Chloe was the campus sweetheart at our college.
She had dozens of guys chasing her. Even though I stood out among the rest, she never gave me a second glance.
There were always boys surrounding her, but Dylan was the only constant.
When Dylan took up hiking, she joined the club with him. Without an ounce of outdoor experience, she followed him deep into the wilderness.
During a sudden storm, Chloe took a wrong turn, got separated from the group, and lost cell service. In her panic, she injured her leg and got trapped in a ravine with no one in sight.
The weather was brutal. None of the hikers dared to venture back out into the storm. Even Dylan gave up, arguing that they should head back to town first and wait for search and rescue.
Only I refused to leave. I walked into the freezing storm alone to find her.By the time I found Chloe, she was severely hypothermic.
I gave her all my thermal layers and held her inside a cave through the freezing night until the rescue team finally arrived.
The paramedics later told her that if I hadn't reached her in time, she wouldn't have survived the night.
When she woke up in the hospital, Chloe was overwhelmed with gratitude. Her attitude toward me shifted dramatically.
Back then, I was so blinded by joy that I failed to notice something crucial: even though Dylan's negligence had put her life in danger, she never uttered a single word of blame against him.
Even when she learned that Dylan had abandoned the search, she merely said softly:
"He was the group leader. He had to think about everyone's safety. I understand."
That brush with death bumped Chloe's affection score toward me up by thirty points. But it remained stuck at thirty.
For a long time after, the meter didn't budge.
It wasn't until after graduation, when I was on the verge of giving up, that Chloe suddenly called me. Choked with tears, she cried, "Austin, please help me..."
Chloe's startup was crashing. The brand she launched had flopped, leaving her buried in debt.
Meanwhile, I was already a rising Chief Designer at an internationally renowned firm with a bright future ahead of me.
Hearing her sobs, I dropped everything and rushed to her side. I found her drunk and crying her eyes out about how unfair life was.
The very next day, I handed in my resignation without hesitation and joined her struggling company.
Under my leadership, her business found its footing, grew rapidly, and eventually became an industry giant.
On the day the company went public, Chloe threw her arms around me and kissed my cheek.
The System notified me: Chloe's affection score has reached 100.
I was free to go home.
Yet Chloe held me tightly, her eyes sparkling like stars as she purred against my chest:
"Austin, you're my lucky charm. Promise you'll stay by my side forever, okay?"
In a moment of pure madness, I said yes.
Rejecting the System came with a price. Infuriated, the System went dark. No matter how many times I tried to summon it afterward, there was only silence.
At the time, I thought it didn't matter. Living the rest of my life in this world seemed wonderful.
Until Dylan came back and shattered everything.
"I'm not throwing a tantrum," I said calmly.
Even now, Chloe hadn't realized that the wedding had been called off.
Her head was so full of making excuses for Dylan that she assumed her sweet talk had worked. "Alright, alright. I know you've been stressed lately. Do you want me to drive you to the clinic for a checkup?"
Looking at her dismissive expression, my mouth felt dry.
Back when I quit my dream job to rescue her failing company, the crushing workload and relentless pressure had triggered severe insomnia.
When Dylan reappeared in our lives, the mental toll pushed me over the edge. I was formally diagnosed with clinical depression.
Back then, Chloe had cleared her schedule to attend therapy sessions with me, doing everything she could to cheer me up.
Seeing how hard she tried, I willingly endured every treatment, desperate to get better for her sake.
Even on my darkest days, I forced myself to smile just to keep her from worrying.
At work, I held myself to an impossible standard, never letting a single mistake slip through.
Yet over time, Chloe's patience wore thin. The hours she spent by my side dwindled to nothing.
If she wasn't "working overtime," she was "stuck in a meeting."
Yet time and time again, Dylan's Instagram told a very different story. Photos and vlogs showed the two of them on spontaneous getaways.
In those clips, Chloe laughed with a radiant joy I had never seen before.
She held hands with Dylan as they ran across sunlit lawns, screaming into the wind like young lovers in the honeymoon phase.
Whenever I called her during those trips, all I got was her venomous scolding: "Austin, stop using your depression as a weapon! You're just doing this for attention."
"What do you even have to be depressed about? Who are you putting on this tragic show for?"
Those words had sliced into my heart like razors.After that, whenever insomnia kept me awake in the dead of night, I never messaged Chloe again.
Whenever a panic attack left me shaking on the floor, I stopped hoping she would walk through the door.
I never brought up my mental health to her again.
Yet today, she casually brought it up, acting as though my calm detachment was just another irrational episode.
I let out a faint laugh. "I've been fully recovered for months. Did you even know that?"
Chloe's face tightened with confusion.
She stared at me, blinking. "When? Why didn't you tell me?"
"The last time I had a severe attack, I called you while you were at that music festival with Dylan," I said flatly. "Do you remember what you said?"
An emergency had cropped up at the office that weekend, but Chloe had refused to return from out of town because she was with Dylan.
I pulled three consecutive all-nighters to put out the fire. The moment the crisis was resolved, a massive panic attack hit me.
I collapsed on the dark office floor, hyperventilating, shaking so violently that I couldn't even dial 911.
The only call I managed to make was to Chloe.
When she heard my ragged gasps for help, she didn't offer a single word of comfort. She simply spat with cold disgust:
"If you're sick, call a damn doctor. I'm not a therapist. What the hell do you expect me to do about it?"
That night, curled up on the freezing linoleum, drowning in suffocating loneliness, I genuinely looked at the thirtieth-floor window and thought about jumping.
That was the night I stopped waiting for her to care.
I pulled back from my workload and committed fully to my treatment. Every colleague and friend around me knew I was actively getting better. The only person completely in the dark was my so-called fiancée.
What a tragic joke.
Now, seeing the look of utter nonchalance on my face, a flash of guilt crossed Chloe's eyes.
She clearly remembered what she had said that night.
"I... I was just frustrated in the moment. It's great that you're better now."
She quickly checked the clock, trying to change the subject. "We missed the morning slot, didn't we? Is the venue calling? Come on, let's hurry over."
I picked up the handle of my packed suitcase, my eyes completely hollow. "I called off the wedding. There's no need to go."
Chloe's mouth fell open.
She stood frozen, looking at me with a rare flicker of panic. Something in my eyes must have told her that this wasn't like our previous fights. This time, I was walking away for good.
Her lips parted, wanting to plead.
I didn't care to hear it. Without a backward glance, I pulled my suitcase and walked out the door.
Leaving the penthouse where we had lived together for three years stirred a dull ache in my chest.
But more than that, I felt free.
I didn't bother looking for a new apartment. I wouldn't be staying in this world much longer anyway; the System would take me home soon.
The next morning, I walked into the corporate office to complete my exit paperwork.
Everyone at the company knew about our relationship and that our wedding was supposed to have taken place yesterday. Naturally, word had spread that the ceremony never happened.
Whispers followed me down every hallway. Pitying glances, mocking smirks, and curious stares bore into my back.
Everyone knew I was the lovesick fool who had given his blood, sweat, and tears for Chloe. And now that the fool had walked away empty-handed, he was the office laughingstock.
I pushed open the door to Chloe's corner office and slid my formal resignation letter across her mahogany desk.
For the first time, fury cracked Chloe's composed facade. She grabbed the paper, crumpled it into a ball, and slammed it into the trash can.
"Who said you could quit? You cancel our wedding out of nowhere, and now you want to throw your career away too? I'm not letting you walk out of here!"
Staring at the woman who had never lost her temper like this before, I felt oddly detached. What was the point of this sudden desperation?
"I'm not asking for your permission, Chloe. I'm letting you know. Starting tomorrow, I won't be coming in. Three consecutive days of unexcused absence constitutes immediate termination under company policy, doesn't it?"Chloe looked at me as if she had seen a ghost.
A heavy, suffocating silence swallowed the room. After a long minute, Chloe dropped her head. For the first time in our seven years together, she yielded.
"Fine, Austin. You win. The Chief Designer title stays yours. Happy now?"
I let out an exhausted, humorless chuckle.
Even now, she still believed this was all a strategic power play.
When I first joined her company, it was a ragtag team of less than ten people cramped in a moldy basement, begging for seed funding that never came.
I was the one who built our brand identity from scratch, brought our work into the public eye, and earned our reputation across the industry. Everything this company possessed was built on my back.
Yet last month, Chloe wanted to strip me of my title and hand the Chief Designer role to Dylan.
Her excuse? "A fresh face brings more innovative design ideas."
The entire department had rallied behind me, calling it unfair. For the first time, I pushed back hard, refusing to step down.
Cornered, Chloe had pulled out her ultimate bargaining chip. She offered to finally marry me.
Her condition was simple: I had to hand the Chief Designer position to Dylan.
To soften the blow, she painted a glowing, domestic fantasy for our future.
She told me she wanted two kids. She said she would be busy running the executive side, and that stepping down would give me more time to focus on our family, raise our babies, and live a peaceful, cozy life as a family of four.
I had been stupid enough to buy into that fantasy. I had actually agreed.
And now, she honestly believed I was throwing this entire tantrum just to reclaim my stolen title.
She had no idea that I never cared about the prestige of a corporate title.
I had opposed Dylan's appointment solely because he lacked the talent and technical skill to lead the department. I was trying to protect the company we had built.
Now, I didn't care to explain any of it.
"Chloe, I'm not playing games," I said, my voice level. "We're over. For real."
Chloe stared at me in raw disbelief.
Then, her composure shattered completely, turning into a shrill, hysterical shriek:
"I don't accept that!
"Austin, who the hell do you think you are? You don't get to call off our wedding and break up with me on a whim! I don't agree!
"If you dare walk out that door, you won't take a single industry connection with you! I swear I'll blacklist you so thoroughly that no firm in this country will ever touch your portfolio!"
I had never seen her look so unhinged.
I couldn't tell if her rage stemmed from the terror of losing me, or from the sheer indignation that her obedient pet had finally bitten back.
It didn't matter anymore.
"Have a good life, Chloe," I said calmly.
I turned on my heel and walked out of the office, never looking back.
Over the next few days, Chloe didn't reach out to me once.
Instead, as if throwing a petulant tantrum, she flooded her Instagram with photos of her clubbing, surrounding herself with male models, and posting flirtatious pictures with strangers.
I saw right through it. She was trying to bait me into breaking first.
Every time we fought in the past, I was always the one to apologize. She was used to holding all the cards. Her tiny concession in the office that day was already the biggest compromise she had ever made in her life.
In the past, seeing those posts would have driven me mad with jealousy, and I would have run straight back to her.
Now, I felt absolutely nothing.
I handed over my unfinished design drafts to an intern I had mentored, emptied my savings account, and headed to an old residential neighborhood downtown.
The area was quiet and dated, mostly populated by elderly retirees. As I carried bags of groceries and fruit through the courtyard, familiar neighbors greeted me warmly.
"Austin's back!"
"Officer Miller, your boy is here to see you!"
A gray-haired man wearing reading glasses leaned over the third-floor balcony. The moment he spotted me, his weathered face crinkled into a broad smile.
When I first arrived in this world, I was a sudden anomaly—a penniless teenager with no legal identity, no family, and nowhere to go.
It was Officer Miller who sorted out my legal papers. Believing I was an abducted runaway, he took me under his wing and paid for my college tuition. Over the years, I had loved him like my own father.
Now that I was leaving, I needed to say a proper goodbye.
I carried the baskets inside. Uncle Miller happily brewed a pot of tea. The small apartment looked just as it always had, with a framed picture of the two of us sitting prominently on the mantle.
"Austin, didn't you say you were swamped with work? What brought you over so suddenly?"
As expected of a veteran detective, he saw through my forced smile immediately. Unable to share the supernatural truth, I deflected gently, "Things slowed down at the firm, and I wanted to check in on your health."
Uncle Miller didn't push. He patted my hand with a warm, calloused palm. "You've lost weight, son. Is the pressure too much? Where's Chloe? Why didn't she come with you?"
When Chloe and I first started dating, I brought her here to meet him. Uncle Miller had adored her, treating her like his own daughter. Chloe had always promised that we would visit him often.
Before I could answer, the sharp click of high heels echoed outside the door, followed by Chloe's smooth voice:
"Austin moves so fast, he didn't even wait for me in the car."
My whole body froze.

Chapters (4)

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

Chapter 1

The night before our wedding, Chloe got completely wasted at a bar. Her childhood best friend, Dylan, was the one who brought her home. When they said goodbye, they clung to each other like star-crossed lovers. Chloe was practically draped across his chest, slurring her confession: "Honestly... you're the one I've always wanted to marry." Dylan offered me a careless shrug. "Chloe had a few too many drinks, man. We're like brothers." The next second, I saw his new Instagram post. It was a picture of a diamond ring, captioned: A promise I could never deliver. Chloe was the very first person to like it. This wasn't the first time they blurred the lines between friendship and something more. Only this time, I was truly sick of it. I called out to the System that had been dormant in my mind for years: "I'm tired. Send me back." When Chloe finally woke up the next morning, my bags were already packed. She slept past noon, completely oblivious to the fact that our wedding ceremony had been scheduled hours ago. Rubbing her eyes, she snapped at me out of habit, "Where's breakfast?" Chloe had a sensitive stomach and loved drinking. Every single time she got hungover, I would make her soup from scratch and have a hot meal waiting for her the next morning. She had long grown used to my devotion, taking every bit of it for granted. "Takeout menus are on the counter," I said flatly. "Order it yourself." Chloe froze for a second. Irritated, she ran a hand through her tangled hair. "Are you still sulking over last night? "It was just a bachelorette party my friends threw for me! Dylan and I grew up together. Can you stop being so damn insecure and paranoid for once?" I had heard those exact words a thousand times. She and Dylan were inseparable growing up. They were tighter than two peas in a pod. They fought each other's battles, skipped class together, and ended up at the same company after college. They set each other up on dates and spent over two decades playfully bantering. Naturally, there was no room for an outsider like me to squeeze in. A bitter ache bloomed in my chest. I pulled up Dylan's Instagram on my phone. "Is this what you call pure friendship?" Not only had Dylan left the post up all night, he had even pinned it to the top of his profile. It sat there like a glaring trophy, daring me to react. The comments underneath were filled with Chloe's friends egging him on. Some said he and Chloe were made for each other. Some told him to just confess already. A few even dared him to crash our wedding. Dylan had replied to only one comment: I just want her to be happy. A single sentence, dripping with unspoken heartache and noble sacrifice. Yet I was the one who was her actual fiancé. I had spent seven years loving Chloe and proposed to her three times. I genuinely believed that if I held on long enough, love would win out. Instead, I had become nothing more than an unwanted third wheel in someone else's epic romance. How pathetic. Chloe's eyes darted away for a fraction of a second before her face hardened into impatience. "It's just a silly social media post. What does it prove? Stop being so petty. "Besides, I agreed to marry you, didn't I? What else do you want from me?" Her condescending tone made it sound as if marrying me was an act of charity. I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. Whatever lingering affection I had left evaporated into thin air. Chloe walked over, wrapped her arms around my waist, and softened her voice into a placating purr. "Come on. Dylan is harmless. He doesn't have an evil bone in his body. Stop throwing a tantrum." The same old trick. Whenever I voiced my frustration over her inappropriate dynamic with Dylan, Chloe would throw me a tiny bone of affection just to defend him. And every single time before, I had taken the olive branch. But this time, I was exhausted. I couldn't even muster the energy to get mad. After all, I was leaving anyway. When I first arrived in this world, the System told me that the only way to return home was to win Chloe's heart. So I approached her, memorized everything she liked, and found every excuse to be in her orbit. Back then, Chloe was the campus sweetheart at our college. She had dozens of guys chasing her. Even though I stood out among the rest, she never gave me a second glance. There were always boys surrounding her, but Dylan was the only constant. When Dylan took up hiking, she joined the club with him. Without an ounce of outdoor experience, she followed him deep into the wilderness. During a sudden storm, Chloe took a wrong turn, got separated from the group, and lost cell service. In her panic, she injured her leg and got trapped in a ravine with no one in sight. The weather was brutal. None of the hikers dared to venture back out into the storm. Even Dylan gave up, arguing that they should head back to town first and wait for search and rescue. Only I refused to leave. I walked into the freezing storm alone to find her.

Chapter 2

By the time I found Chloe, she was severely hypothermic. I gave her all my thermal layers and held her inside a cave through the freezing night until the rescue team finally arrived. The paramedics later told her that if I hadn't reached her in time, she wouldn't have survived the night. When she woke up in the hospital, Chloe was overwhelmed with gratitude. Her attitude toward me shifted dramatically. Back then, I was so blinded by joy that I failed to notice something crucial: even though Dylan's negligence had put her life in danger, she never uttered a single word of blame against him. Even when she learned that Dylan had abandoned the search, she merely said softly: "He was the group leader. He had to think about everyone's safety. I understand." That brush with death bumped Chloe's affection score toward me up by thirty points. But it remained stuck at thirty. For a long time after, the meter didn't budge. It wasn't until after graduation, when I was on the verge of giving up, that Chloe suddenly called me. Choked with tears, she cried, "Austin, please help me..." Chloe's startup was crashing. The brand she launched had flopped, leaving her buried in debt. Meanwhile, I was already a rising Chief Designer at an internationally renowned firm with a bright future ahead of me. Hearing her sobs, I dropped everything and rushed to her side. I found her drunk and crying her eyes out about how unfair life was. The very next day, I handed in my resignation without hesitation and joined her struggling company. Under my leadership, her business found its footing, grew rapidly, and eventually became an industry giant. On the day the company went public, Chloe threw her arms around me and kissed my cheek. The System notified me: Chloe's affection score has reached 100. I was free to go home. Yet Chloe held me tightly, her eyes sparkling like stars as she purred against my chest: "Austin, you're my lucky charm. Promise you'll stay by my side forever, okay?" In a moment of pure madness, I said yes. Rejecting the System came with a price. Infuriated, the System went dark. No matter how many times I tried to summon it afterward, there was only silence. At the time, I thought it didn't matter. Living the rest of my life in this world seemed wonderful. Until Dylan came back and shattered everything. "I'm not throwing a tantrum," I said calmly. Even now, Chloe hadn't realized that the wedding had been called off. Her head was so full of making excuses for Dylan that she assumed her sweet talk had worked. "Alright, alright. I know you've been stressed lately. Do you want me to drive you to the clinic for a checkup?" Looking at her dismissive expression, my mouth felt dry. Back when I quit my dream job to rescue her failing company, the crushing workload and relentless pressure had triggered severe insomnia. When Dylan reappeared in our lives, the mental toll pushed me over the edge. I was formally diagnosed with clinical depression. Back then, Chloe had cleared her schedule to attend therapy sessions with me, doing everything she could to cheer me up. Seeing how hard she tried, I willingly endured every treatment, desperate to get better for her sake. Even on my darkest days, I forced myself to smile just to keep her from worrying. At work, I held myself to an impossible standard, never letting a single mistake slip through. Yet over time, Chloe's patience wore thin. The hours she spent by my side dwindled to nothing. If she wasn't "working overtime," she was "stuck in a meeting." Yet time and time again, Dylan's Instagram told a very different story. Photos and vlogs showed the two of them on spontaneous getaways. In those clips, Chloe laughed with a radiant joy I had never seen before. She held hands with Dylan as they ran across sunlit lawns, screaming into the wind like young lovers in the honeymoon phase. Whenever I called her during those trips, all I got was her venomous scolding: "Austin, stop using your depression as a weapon! You're just doing this for attention." "What do you even have to be depressed about? Who are you putting on this tragic show for?" Those words had sliced into my heart like razors.

Chapter 3

After that, whenever insomnia kept me awake in the dead of night, I never messaged Chloe again. Whenever a panic attack left me shaking on the floor, I stopped hoping she would walk through the door. I never brought up my mental health to her again. Yet today, she casually brought it up, acting as though my calm detachment was just another irrational episode. I let out a faint laugh. "I've been fully recovered for months. Did you even know that?" Chloe's face tightened with confusion. She stared at me, blinking. "When? Why didn't you tell me?" "The last time I had a severe attack, I called you while you were at that music festival with Dylan," I said flatly. "Do you remember what you said?" An emergency had cropped up at the office that weekend, but Chloe had refused to return from out of town because she was with Dylan. I pulled three consecutive all-nighters to put out the fire. The moment the crisis was resolved, a massive panic attack hit me. I collapsed on the dark office floor, hyperventilating, shaking so violently that I couldn't even dial 911. The only call I managed to make was to Chloe. When she heard my ragged gasps for help, she didn't offer a single word of comfort. She simply spat with cold disgust: "If you're sick, call a damn doctor. I'm not a therapist. What the hell do you expect me to do about it?" That night, curled up on the freezing linoleum, drowning in suffocating loneliness, I genuinely looked at the thirtieth-floor window and thought about jumping. That was the night I stopped waiting for her to care. I pulled back from my workload and committed fully to my treatment. Every colleague and friend around me knew I was actively getting better. The only person completely in the dark was my so-called fiancée. What a tragic joke. Now, seeing the look of utter nonchalance on my face, a flash of guilt crossed Chloe's eyes. She clearly remembered what she had said that night. "I... I was just frustrated in the moment. It's great that you're better now." She quickly checked the clock, trying to change the subject. "We missed the morning slot, didn't we? Is the venue calling? Come on, let's hurry over." I picked up the handle of my packed suitcase, my eyes completely hollow. "I called off the wedding. There's no need to go." Chloe's mouth fell open. She stood frozen, looking at me with a rare flicker of panic. Something in my eyes must have told her that this wasn't like our previous fights. This time, I was walking away for good. Her lips parted, wanting to plead. I didn't care to hear it. Without a backward glance, I pulled my suitcase and walked out the door. Leaving the penthouse where we had lived together for three years stirred a dull ache in my chest. But more than that, I felt free. I didn't bother looking for a new apartment. I wouldn't be staying in this world much longer anyway; the System would take me home soon. The next morning, I walked into the corporate office to complete my exit paperwork. Everyone at the company knew about our relationship and that our wedding was supposed to have taken place yesterday. Naturally, word had spread that the ceremony never happened. Whispers followed me down every hallway. Pitying glances, mocking smirks, and curious stares bore into my back. Everyone knew I was the lovesick fool who had given his blood, sweat, and tears for Chloe. And now that the fool had walked away empty-handed, he was the office laughingstock. I pushed open the door to Chloe's corner office and slid my formal resignation letter across her mahogany desk. For the first time, fury cracked Chloe's composed facade. She grabbed the paper, crumpled it into a ball, and slammed it into the trash can. "Who said you could quit? You cancel our wedding out of nowhere, and now you want to throw your career away too? I'm not letting you walk out of here!" Staring at the woman who had never lost her temper like this before, I felt oddly detached. What was the point of this sudden desperation? "I'm not asking for your permission, Chloe. I'm letting you know. Starting tomorrow, I won't be coming in. Three consecutive days of unexcused absence constitutes immediate termination under company policy, doesn't it?"

Chapter 4

Chloe looked at me as if she had seen a ghost. A heavy, suffocating silence swallowed the room. After a long minute, Chloe dropped her head. For the first time in our seven years together, she yielded. "Fine, Austin. You win. The Chief Designer title stays yours. Happy now?" I let out an exhausted, humorless chuckle. Even now, she still believed this was all a strategic power play. When I first joined her company, it was a ragtag team of less than ten people cramped in a moldy basement, begging for seed funding that never came. I was the one who built our brand identity from scratch, brought our work into the public eye, and earned our reputation across the industry. Everything this company possessed was built on my back. Yet last month, Chloe wanted to strip me of my title and hand the Chief Designer role to Dylan. Her excuse? "A fresh face brings more innovative design ideas." The entire department had rallied behind me, calling it unfair. For the first time, I pushed back hard, refusing to step down. Cornered, Chloe had pulled out her ultimate bargaining chip. She offered to finally marry me. Her condition was simple: I had to hand the Chief Designer position to Dylan. To soften the blow, she painted a glowing, domestic fantasy for our future. She told me she wanted two kids. She said she would be busy running the executive side, and that stepping down would give me more time to focus on our family, raise our babies, and live a peaceful, cozy life as a family of four. I had been stupid enough to buy into that fantasy. I had actually agreed. And now, she honestly believed I was throwing this entire tantrum just to reclaim my stolen title. She had no idea that I never cared about the prestige of a corporate title. I had opposed Dylan's appointment solely because he lacked the talent and technical skill to lead the department. I was trying to protect the company we had built. Now, I didn't care to explain any of it. "Chloe, I'm not playing games," I said, my voice level. "We're over. For real." Chloe stared at me in raw disbelief. Then, her composure shattered completely, turning into a shrill, hysterical shriek: "I don't accept that! "Austin, who the hell do you think you are? You don't get to call off our wedding and break up with me on a whim! I don't agree! "If you dare walk out that door, you won't take a single industry connection with you! I swear I'll blacklist you so thoroughly that no firm in this country will ever touch your portfolio!" I had never seen her look so unhinged. I couldn't tell if her rage stemmed from the terror of losing me, or from the sheer indignation that her obedient pet had finally bitten back. It didn't matter anymore. "Have a good life, Chloe," I said calmly. I turned on my heel and walked out of the office, never looking back. Over the next few days, Chloe didn't reach out to me once. Instead, as if throwing a petulant tantrum, she flooded her Instagram with photos of her clubbing, surrounding herself with male models, and posting flirtatious pictures with strangers. I saw right through it. She was trying to bait me into breaking first. Every time we fought in the past, I was always the one to apologize. She was used to holding all the cards. Her tiny concession in the office that day was already the biggest compromise she had ever made in her life. In the past, seeing those posts would have driven me mad with jealousy, and I would have run straight back to her. Now, I felt absolutely nothing. I handed over my unfinished design drafts to an intern I had mentored, emptied my savings account, and headed to an old residential neighborhood downtown. The area was quiet and dated, mostly populated by elderly retirees. As I carried bags of groceries and fruit through the courtyard, familiar neighbors greeted me warmly. "Austin's back!" "Officer Miller, your boy is here to see you!" A gray-haired man wearing reading glasses leaned over the third-floor balcony. The moment he spotted me, his weathered face crinkled into a broad smile. When I first arrived in this world, I was a sudden anomaly—a penniless teenager with no legal identity, no family, and nowhere to go. It was Officer Miller who sorted out my legal papers. Believing I was an abducted runaway, he took me under his wing and paid for my college tuition. Over the years, I had loved him like my own father. Now that I was leaving, I needed to say a proper goodbye. I carried the baskets inside. Uncle Miller happily brewed a pot of tea. The small apartment looked just as it always had, with a framed picture of the two of us sitting prominently on the mantle. "Austin, didn't you say you were swamped with work? What brought you over so suddenly?" As expected of a veteran detective, he saw through my forced smile immediately. Unable to share the supernatural truth, I deflected gently, "Things slowed down at the firm, and I wanted to check in on your health." Uncle Miller didn't push. He patted my hand with a warm, calloused palm. "You've lost weight, son. Is the pressure too much? Where's Chloe? Why didn't she come with you?" When Chloe and I first started dating, I brought her here to meet him. Uncle Miller had adored her, treating her like his own daughter. Chloe had always promised that we would visit him often. Before I could answer, the sharp click of high heels echoed outside the door, followed by Chloe's smooth voice: "Austin moves so fast, he didn't even wait for me in the car." My whole body froze.

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