On the day our parents were supposed to meet and set our wedding date, my fiancé, Garrett, stood me up to be with his childhood best friend, Amber. To prepare for this dinner, I had texted him every single day for a week to confirm the details. Every time, he’d dismiss it with an annoyed sigh: “I get it, Fiona. Are you a broken record?” On the day of the dinner, my parents took a six-hour Amtrak ride from our small Ohio hometown to Chicago. I had booked a private dining room at one of the finest steakhouses downtown to make sure everything was perfect. The food was served, the tea went cold, and Garrett’s chair remained empty. I called him for the fourteenth time. Finally, the line connected, but it wasn’t his voice on the other end. It was Amber, her voice trembling with an exaggerated, breathy whimper. “Fiona? I’m so sorry, Garrett had to rush me to the hospital. I tripped and sprained my ankle…” In the background, I heard Garrett’s voice, sharp and impatient: “Fiona, Amber is hurt and she has no one else here. Just take care of your parents first.” My parents’ faces turned pale, then furious. Garrett’s mother tried to smooth things over with an awkward, strained smile. “Garrett has always been too kind for his own good. I’m sure that’s one of the reasons Fiona loves him.” “I’m sure you understand,” she added to my parents. “We’ll reschedule.” I was shaking so hard with anger I wanted to flip the table right then and there. But looking at my parents, who hadn’t eaten all day, I forced myself to swallow the rage. After dinner, I walked them to the train station. “Mom, Dad, give me three days. Once I wrap everything up here, I’ll come home and marry Willie.” 1 “Fiona, are you sure about this? Seven years… are you really just going to throw it all away?” Right before the boarding gate, my mom held my hand, her eyes rimmed with red. My dad stood beside her, his knuckles white as he tightly gripped the heavy card envelope of cash he had prepared for Garrett—a traditional blessing to welcome him into the family. I met their worried gaze, my voice steady and unwavering. “Mom, I promise you, I’ll be home in three days.” The train roared away into the distance. I turned and hailed a cab. When I gave the driver the address of the apartment I had shared with Garrett for the last three years, he caught my eye in the rearview mirror, lingering a second too long. Perhaps it was because my face bore absolutely no resemblance to that of a bride-to-be who had just discussed her wedding date. I unlocked the front door. Instead of the familiar, soothing scent of my lavender candles, I was hit by the thick, pungent stench of wet dog. The expensive silk throw pillows on the sofa had been torn to shreds, stuffing scattered everywhere. Muddy paw prints littered the hardwood floor. And right there, chewing on a bone directly on top of my wedding dress garment bag, was a filthy, oversized poodle. It was Amber’s dog, Duke. Garrett had insisted on bringing him over last month. “Amber developed a sudden allergy to dog dander,” he had said casually over the phone. “We’ll watch him for a few days. You’re always puttering around the apartment anyway, what’s the big deal if you feed him?” I ignored the dog barking hysterically at me. I walked straight into the bedroom, pulled my oversized suitcase out from the back of the closet, and set it on the bed. There were no tears, no screaming, no throwing things. I quietly and methodically folded my clothes, gathered my documents, and packed them away. On the wall hung our seven-year anniversary photo frame. I pulled it down and tossed it into a heavy-duty black trash bag. The glass shattered inside the bag, slicing my index finger. A bead of blood welled up. It stung. I pressed a tissue against it without a word and kept packing. The front door beeped open. It was 1:00 AM. Garrett walked in, practically carrying Amber. Her ankle was wrapped in an absurdly thick layer of bandages, and she was draped entirely over his shoulders. “Oh, Fiona, you’re still awake?” She blinked her doe eyes, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “It’s all my fault. I was so clumsy on the stairs, and poor Garrett had to spend half the night with me in the ER.” Garrett tossed his car keys onto the entryway console, his brow furrowing as he looked at me. “Your parents weren’t upset, were they? My mom said they left right after dinner. Why didn’t you have them stay the night at a hotel?” He walked over to the couch, kicked away the shredded silk pillows, his face etched with exhaustion. “The ER was packed today. Amber was crying from the pain, and I couldn’t just leave her. You know how busy I am, Fiona. You shouldn’t have insisted on booking the family dinner for today of all days.” I tucked my last winter coat into the suitcase and zipped it shut. “We set this date three weeks ago, Garrett.” Garrett loosened his tie with an impatient tug. “Drop it, alright? Amber can’t navigate her apartment with her ankle like this. She’s going to stay in our guest room for a few days, so I need you to help take care of her.” He paused, his tone softening slightly, as if offering a generous concession. “Once Amber’s ankle is healed, I’ll personally drive down to your parents’ place and apologize to them. How’s that?” Amber hobbled over, clinging tightly to Garrett’s arm. “Garrett, did I make Fiona mad? Maybe I should just leave. I don’t want to come between you two.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Garrett said, patting her hand before turning back to me, expecting my usual quiet compliance. “Fiona isn’t that petty.” I rolled my suitcase to the front door. “Sure.” Garrett blinked, clearly taken aback by how easily I had agreed. A smug, satisfied smile began to form on his lips. “See? I knew you’d understand. Go pour Amber a glass of warm water, and grab some fresh sheets for the guest bed while you’re at it.” I didn’t answer. My eyes fell on the faint smudge of lipstick on his collar. “No need,” I said, opening the door. “The apartment is all yours. I’m moving out.” 2 “Fiona! What the hell is your problem in the middle of the night?” Garrett stormed over, slamming his hand down on my suitcase. His forehead was creased in deep, angry lines, his eyes flashing with the irritation of someone whose authority had been challenged. “Just because I couldn’t make it to dinner with your parents? I explained it to you! It was an emergency! Can you stop being so incredibly dramatic and unreasonable?” Amber hobbled behind him, using her uninjured foot to nudge my suitcase. “Fiona, Garrett works so hard to provide for you. You shouldn’t stress him out over minor things. Running away like a teenager every time you get upset makes him look really bad.” She sighed, playing the role of the mature, understanding friend. “We’re just like siblings. You treat me like some kind of threat. Isn’t it exhausting?” I stared down at her foot resting on my suitcase. She was wearing a pair of limited-edition designer sneakers. I had pulled strings with a friend abroad to get them imported last month, intending for Garrett to wear them at our wedding. Now they were on Amber’s feet. “Nice shoes,” I said quietly. Amber’s smile stiffened, and she instinctively shrank behind Garrett. Garrett immediately stepped in front of her. “I gave them to her! She sprained her ankle and couldn’t wear her heels, so I grabbed a pair from the closet. It’s just a pair of shoes, Fiona. Do you have to keep score on literally everything?” He pointed a finger at my face, his voice rising. “You used to be different. When did you become so materialistic? So impossible?” “Impossible.” That was the verdict on the seven years of my youth I had given him. To help him launch his software startup, I had dropped out of my master’s program to write code late into the night, ruining my stomach in the process. To save money for his company, I hadn’t bought a single piece of clothing over fifty dollars in three years. And now, he gave my wedding shoes to another woman and called me materialistic. I let go of the suitcase handle. “She can keep them.” I opened the door and walked out into the cool night air. Behind me, Garrett’s furious voice echoed down the hallway. “If you walk out that door tonight, don’t expect me to come crawling back! And you can forget about signing the marriage license next week!” I stepped into the elevator and pressed the lobby button. The early morning air was brisk. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I knew by heart, even though I hadn’t called it in years. “Willie.” The line went dead silent, save for the sound of heavy, unsteady breathing. After what felt like an eternity, a deep, gentle voice answered. “I’m here. Have you made up your mind?” “Yes,” I said, watching the streetlights flicker past. “For the wedding next Wednesday… can we change the groom’s name to yours?” Willie let out a low, soft laugh, carrying a steady, comforting warmth. “As long as you’re willing, Fiona, the seat next to me has always been yours.” After hanging up, I took a cab straight to our startup’s office. Hannah was already waiting for me in the conference room. She slammed a thick stack of legal documents onto the table, practically vibrating with rage. “Fiona! Finally! I thought you were going to let that parasite drain you dry!” I picked up the pen and signed my name on the equity transfer documents. “I’m taking my patents and my core client data. The empty shell that’s left? Garrett can play CEO with it all he wants.” Hannah watched me sign with a grin, giving me a massive thumbs-up. “Hell yes! I’ve been waiting for this day. I couldn’t stand him and his little pick-me sidekick. By the way, check out what Amber just posted on her Instagram.” She slid her phone across the table. It was a selfie of Amber wearing my silk bathrobe, sitting at my vanity. The caption read: “Day one of recovering at big brother’s house. Even the air smells sweet here~” Garrett had liked it instantly and left a comment: “Take your medicine. I’ll bring you those pastries you like from the bakery downtown tonight.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “The bakery downtown? The line there takes two hours. And he claimed he was too busy to meet your parents?” I pushed the phone away, completely unfazed. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” I handed the signed documents back to Hannah. “Expedite the filing. I want my name completely severed from this company within three days.” My phone buzzed. It was a text from Garrett. “Are you done throwing your tantrum? Amber needs a follow-up exam at three. Come drive us. Her leg is messed up and I can’t carry her the whole way.” I stared at the screen for three seconds. Then, I blocked his number. 3 At 1:00 PM, I was sitting in the private showroom of the city’s most exclusive bridal boutique. Willie sat on the leather sofa opposite me, casually flipping through a thick design catalog. He wore a perfectly tailored dark gray suit, his deep, intelligent eyes framed by gold-rimmed glasses. He was the polar opposite of Garrett, whose expressions were always aggressive, impatient, and demanding. “Do you like this main gown?” He pointed to a strapless dress embellished with thousands of delicate, shimmering diamonds. “If you think it’s too revealing, we can ask the designer to raise the neckline.” I shook my head. “No need to change it. I like it. It’s beautiful.” Garrett had always complained whenever I wore anything remotely form-fitting. He didn’t even let me buy camisoles. He used to say that “good girls” dressed modestly and shouldn’t try to draw attention. I had actually listened to him, wrapping myself up like a Puritan for years. Willie closed the catalog and turned to the boutique director. “Prepare this piece. Have the designers alter it to Ms. Fiona’s measurements overnight. And swap out the standard crystals for aurora-cut diamonds.” The director bowed respectfully and left the room. Willie poured a cup of warm tea and handed it to me. “I’ve finalized the wedding favors and the venue. The shuttle service for your relatives is booked too. Is there anything else you’re worried about?” I stared at the amber tea, my throat tightening with sudden emotion. “Thank you, Willie. Really. You didn’t have to go this far…” “Shh,” he said, placing a long, elegant finger to his lips. “Fiona, I’ve waited seven years for this chance. If I can’t even handle these details, how do I expect to earn my promotion to husband?” Right then, my phone began to buzz incessantly. It was Hannah, spamming me with dozens of voice messages and screenshots. “Fiona! Look at the alumni group chat right now! I am losing my mind!” I opened the screenshots. It was the college group chat, which included Garrett’s old friends, as well as Amber and me. The chat was buzzing. Amber had posted a close-up photo of her hand. On her finger was a simple, elegant band. It was the custom wedding ring I had designed myself, visiting three different jewelers to get the blueprint right. The inner band was engraved with our initials: “F & G”. Amber had written in the chat: “Oh my gosh, Garrett insisted on getting me a little treat to cheer up my poor injured foot~ The style is a little vintage, but it’s the thought that counts!” His friends immediately started hyping it up. “Whoa, is Garrett finally spending cash on someone else?” “Does the future wifey know? That looks like a women’s ring!” Garrett replied with a voice note. I tapped play, and his smug, casual voice filled the room. “It’s just a cheap trinket, let her wear it for fun. Fiona’s been throwing a massive fit lately; she just needs a few days to cool off. Consider the ring an apology to Amber for the drama.” Hannah was typing in a fury: “Cheap trinket?! You stayed up coding for two weeks straight to save up for those rings! Garrett couldn’t even afford a down payment on an apartment back then, and now he’s using your hard work to play big spender?” I calmly saved the screenshots. Then, I called the jewelry boutique’s VIP service. “Hello, this is Fiona. I’d like to cancel all future maintenance and engraving services for the rings registered under my name.” “Yes, keep the deposit. I just want all association with your brand severed.” 4 I tapped the settings icon on the group chat. [Leave Group] With one tap, the screen went quiet. Less than a minute later, Garrett’s name flashed on my screen. He had obviously noticed my departure. I declined the call. He called again. I declined again. Finally, a text message came through, practically radiating his exasperation. “Fiona, what kind of childish game are you playing now? Amber just borrowed your ring for a quick photo. Why do you have to make a scene and leave the group?” “Get back in there and apologize to Amber! Otherwise, don’t expect me to show up at City Hall next week!” I stared at the text. My fingers moved deliberately as I typed four words. “Don’t bother showing up.” Three days flew by. During that time, I cleared out every single personal item from our office. I encrypted and locked down the core codebase. The key developers I had hired and trained resigned in unison. Hannah worked fast. As soon as the legal waiting period for the equity transfer ended, she wired Garrett’s meager startup capital back into his account. Through it all, Garrett didn’t show his face once. Word was, Amber’s dog had suddenly become “depressed,” and he was spending day and night at the veterinary clinic with her. Today was the day we were supposed to get married. Bright morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting off the polished marble floors. I sat in the passenger seat of Willie’s Maybach, wearing a stunning white dress. My phone lit up. It was a text from Garrett. “Duke has to get a full body scan today, so I can’t make it to City Hall. We’ll have to reschedule.” “Don’t start another fight over this. If anything happens to Duke, Amber will be devastated.” A dog’s checkup was more important than marrying his fiancée. For seven years, what on earth had I been holding onto? I deleted the conversation. The car pulled up smoothly in front of City Hall. Willie got out first, walking around to open my door. He offered his hand, palm warm and dry. “Are you ready to become Mrs. Willie, Fiona?” I placed my hand in his, stepping out of the car with a genuine smile. “It would be my honor.” The process was beautifully seamless. No arguments, no cutting corners, no endless waiting. The moment the official seal came down, the marriage certificate was handed to me. In the photo, my smile was brighter than it had been in years. Willie looked down at the certificate, a soft, rare smile reaching his eyes. He took out his phone and snapped a quick photo. “Do you mind if I post this? I’ve been keeping this dream quiet for so many years; I think I’ve earned the right to show off a little.” I smiled and nodded. Meanwhile, at the private veterinary hospital downtown, Garrett sat on a bench, irritably scrolling through his phone. Amber leaned against his shoulder, holding a chew toy to distract the poodle hooked up to an IV. “Garrett, Fiona didn’t throw a tantrum today, did she? You really didn’t have to stay here with me. Getting married is a big deal.” Despite her words, her hand clutched his sleeve tightly. Garrett snorted. “What can she do? She’s just playing cold shoulder, waiting for me to apologize. She’s pulled this act a hundred times. It’s getting old.” He opened the alumni group chat. The screen was flashing with rapid-fire messages. “Holy crap! Major news! Garrett, your wife is cheating on you!”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “533881”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel
Leave a Reply