The brakes on my car failed the night before our wedding. With no other options, I had to borrow Garrett’s car to get to the office. The moment I sat inside and started the ignition, the GPS flared to life, its automated voice filling the quiet cabin. “Recalculating default route to The Waverly. After picking up the Little Princess, proceed to Oak Ridge Amusement Park.” The Waverly. That was the apartment complex where Maisie lived. And “Little Princess” was Garrett’s private contact name for her. The blue light of the dashboard cast a cold glow over my hands. After a moment of hesitation, my thumb hovered over the screen, and I tapped on his navigation history. A long list of routes popped up, almost all of them starting from The Waverly. To the shopping mall, to the train station, to the airport, to the amusement park… And there was one route, repeated almost daily. 8:00 AM, from The Waverly to Maisie’s office. 6:00 PM, from her office back to The Waverly. Twice a day, five days a week, for five solid years. For five years, Garrett had been her personal chauffeur, guiding her through the city’s traffic morning and night. Yet just last week, when I pulled three consecutive all-nighters at my office, my blood sugar had crashed so hard my head swam. I had called him, practically begging him to pick me up. He had refused without a second thought. “It’s completely out of my way, Naomi. Besides, doesn’t your company cover Uber rides for late shifts? Just call a car, it makes more financial sense.” Until this moment, the truth hadn’t fully registered. To Garrett, no matter how far out of the way Maisie lived, she was always “on the way.” But for me, even though my office was barely two miles from his, I was a universe away. I quietly turned off the navigation. I slipped the engagement ring off my finger and set it gently in the cup holder. If our paths were never truly aligned, there was no point in pretending we were walking the same road. 1 The muggy summer breeze drifted through the open window, carrying the thick scent of the car freshener. Rose. Maisie’s favorite scent. And the one I loathed the most. It made my stomach twist, a wave of sudden nausea hitting me so hard I had to step out of the car. In the end, I didn’t drive Garrett’s car. I left it parked, caught a cab, and went to work. Once there, I walked straight into my director’s office. “Dave,” I said, leaning against his doorframe. “That transfer to the European division we talked about. I’ll take it.” Dave looked up from his paperwork, pushing his glasses up his nose with a bemused smile. “Are you kidding, Naomi? You’re getting married in two weeks. You’re going to accept a three-year expat assignment now? Does Garrett even know?” I stared down at my bare ring finger, where a faint, pale band of skin remained. “The wedding is off.” “And Garrett won’t care.” Dave’s smile faded. He studied me for a long, quiet moment before nodding slowly. “If your mind is made up, you leave in three days.” We both knew what went unsaid. Garrett’s firm and ours were deeply intertwined; we shared more vendor pipelines than I could count. With his position, he could easily find out where I went with a single question to our mutual partners. But Garrett always insisted on “professional boundaries.” He never asked about my work. Two years ago, during a joint site visit, a heavy light fixture had broken loose from the ceiling and crushed my lower leg. Garrett had stood at the edge of the crowd, his face a mask of detached calm, watching the paramedics load me onto a gurney. When I later asked him, hurt and furious, why he had been so cold, he simply shrugged. “In situations like that, it’s best to let HR handle the worker’s comp. What was I supposed to do? Rushing over would only expose our relationship and give people room to gossip.” Yet, the year Maisie graduated, those strict professional boundaries suddenly vanished. He bypassed the entire recruitment process to bring her on as his personal assistant. At ten in the morning, I began handing over my files. The last project required a sign-off from Garrett’s team. I had expected Garrett to show up. But when the conference room door opened, a junior analyst I barely recognized walked in. My colleague blinked in surprise. “Where’s Garrett? This is the most critical launch of the quarter. I thought he’d want to oversee it personally.” The analyst offered a strained, polite smile as he laid out the contracts. “He took some personal time.” Knowing my relationship with Garrett, my colleague teased, “The workaholic actually took a day off? I heard he’s getting married soon—is he busy with wedding details?” The analyst shook his head. “No. Maisie wanted to go to Disney World. Garrett flew out with her to Orlando yesterday.” The silence in the room became heavy and suffocating. My colleague’s teasing expression froze, replaced by a look of profound, agonizing pity. I didn’t want to look at them. I kept my eyes glued to the contract, turning the pages. The paper was thin, yet it felt like a razor, cutting deep and clean. So Garrett did know how to take a day off. He did have free time. But last year, for my birthday, I had wanted to go to Disney. I spent weeks planning, marking the best spots to watch the fireworks, mapping out every detail. Garrett had barely glanced at my itinerary before scoffing. “How old are you, Naomi? Why are you still obsessed with a theme park for kids? It’s childish.” His way of celebrating my birthday was Venmoing me five hundred dollars. It was his default setting. Anniversaries, birthdays, Valentine’s Day, Christmas—always a flat five hundred dollars. I had once felt conflicted about it, even posting anonymously on a forum to ask if this was normal. The comments were overwhelmingly reassuring: He’s just an old-school guy. Practical. No drama. Some even joked about wishing they had a boyfriend who paid them to exist. At the time, I forced myself to laugh. Now, it wasn’t funny at all. Because Garrett wasn’t an “old-school” guy. Five hundred dollars was hush money to keep me quiet. For Maisie, there were pink diamond necklaces, hand-crafted itineraries to chase the Northern Lights, and late-night food deliveries flown across states if she craved them. He understood romance perfectly. It just didn’t apply to me. 2 By the time the last file was transferred, it was 7:00 PM. I went home and began packing. Mid-way through, I realized how little of this house belonged to me—or even to Garrett. Most of it belonged to Maisie. A pair of plush pink slippers by the entryway. A pink electric toothbrush on the bathroom vanity. Beside it, her signature rose-scented skincare and perfume. The guest bedroom was made up with pastel pink linens, her spare clothes hanging in the closet. There was even an entire room reserved exclusively for her. I had brought it up before. Every single time, Garrett’s face would darken with irritation. “Maisie is my assistant. She manages my schedule and my life. Having her stay over occasionally just makes the workflow easier. Don’t be petty, Naomi.” But she wasn’t managing his life. He was managing hers. I had never seen an executive follow his assistant around, cleaning up her messes and anticipating her every whim. The lock on the front door beeped. Garrett walked in, holding a glossy Disney store bag. Seeing my half-packed suitcase, he frowned. “What are you doing packing this late?” I kept my voice even as I folded a sweater. “Just cleaning out things I don’t need.” He gave a distracted “Oh” and didn’t press further. Unless it involved Maisie, he rarely bothered to pay attention. After a moment, he held out the bag. “You were complaining about wanting to go to Disney. I had a quick business trip in Orlando, so I picked this up for you.” I didn’t reach for it. I just looked at him. “A business trip? Or a vacation with Maisie?” A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes, quickly replaced by defensive anger. “Take it or leave it. You’re always searching for shadows where there are none. You know how demanding my schedule is right now. How could I possibly take a vacation during a major launch?” Yes. I knew. That was what made it hurt so much. Garrett was a legendary workaholic. For work, he had postponed our engagement photos three times. He had left me to choose the venue, coordinate the caterers, and taste the menu alone. On the day our parents were supposed to meet, he called at the last minute to say a board meeting had run over. Yet, during the most critical week of his career, he had managed to find a free day to take Maisie to Disney. Before I could speak, he brushed past me and went into the bathroom. Soon, the sound of running water filled the apartment. I sat on the bedroom floor for a long time. Finally, I opened my phone, switched to a burner account, and checked Garrett’s Instagram. There it was. A post visible to everyone but me. The kid had a great day today. The photo showed him and Maisie wearing matching Mickey ears, making silly faces at the camera. I had never seen Garrett look so unburdened, so boyishly happy. A comment below read: Didn’t know the boss had such a soft side! Maisie had replied: He’s only like this around the people who really know him. I quietly liked the post, shut my phone, and finished packing. As I zipped the suitcase, Garrett walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair. He was still radiating silent resentment. Without a word, he marched into the study and slammed the door shut. Over our five years together, Garrett had initiated countless silent treatments over Maisie. And every single time, I had been the one to beg for his forgiveness. But tonight, I felt absolutely nothing. Before going to bed, I hesitated, then opened the Disney bag. When I saw the toy inside, a dry laugh escaped my throat. 3 It was a cheap, poorly made plush toy. The stitching was frayed, the eyes were misaligned, and the fabric felt like cardboard. It didn’t look like any official Disney character; it looked like a knockoff purchased for five dollars from a street vendor outside the park gates. I stared at it, realizing what had happened. He had spent the day with Maisie, watched the fireworks, taken the photos, and only at the very end remembered he had a fiancée waiting at home. So he had grabbed the nearest piece of junk to appease me. I tossed it into the trash can, turned off the light, and went to sleep. The next morning, I took a personal day. I went to the wedding venue, the bridal boutique, and the hotel. I cancelled the bookings, paid the cancellation fees, and settled the balances. The staff looked at me with cautious sympathy, but I felt as detached as if I were cancelling a routine business meeting. As I stepped out of the hotel lobby, Garrett’s name flashed on my screen. “Where are you? We had a project check-in this morning.” I watched the traffic rush down the street. “I took the day off.” His voice sharpened. “You weren’t home when I left. Why are you off? This is a critical week for the account, Naomi. Get over to my office right now.” I didn’t want to deal with him, but with only three days left before my flight, I wanted to avoid any dramatic scenes that might jeopardize my departure. Thirty minutes later, I walked into his office. When the meeting wrapped, I stood up to leave with my colleagues, but Garrett called out, “Naomi, stay behind.” The others offered knowing looks and slipped out, closing the door. I had only been in this office twice before. The first time was early in our relationship. I had made him lunch from scratch, wanting to surprise him. Garrett had barely looked at the container before scolding me. “This is a place of business. Don’t come here unannounced.” I had never come back. But now, looking around his sleek, minimalist office, I saw touches of pink everywhere. A pink throw pillow on the leather couch. A half-finished soda and an open bag of chips on the credenza. A stack of brightly colored romance novels tucked beneath a multi-million-dollar acquisition file. Maisie’s presence was everywhere. Garrett didn’t seem to notice the irony. He stared at my hand, his brow furrowing. “Where is your engagement ring? Why aren’t you wearing it?” I didn’t answer. Instead, my eyes fell on his hand. On his middle finger sat a cheap, neon-colored plastic ring. I smiled faintly. “You aren’t wearing yours either.” Before he could respond, Maisie walked in without knocking, carrying a folder. Hearing my remark, she blushed playfully and gave a cute shrug. “Oh, Naomi! We went to a carnival last night and I won those in a ring-toss. It felt like a waste to throw them away, so I gave one to Garrett. You aren’t mad, are you?” Was I mad? I asked myself that. I had already made up my mind to leave. I had always known she was the one he truly cared about. But in that moment, I still felt a cold, sharp prick of anger. Garrett was notoriously fastidious. His suits had to be perfectly tailored, his coffee brewed to an exact temperature, his tie clips aligned to the millimeter. For the wedding, he had insisted on a custom, hand-tailored tuxedo. The fittings had taken months, and when the tailor finally lost patience, I had stood outside his studio in the freezing rain for three hours just to convince him to finish the job. I wanted Garrett to have everything perfect. Yet here he was, wearing a cheap plastic carnival ring that was already peeling at the edges, looking entirely content. I looked away from his hand and met Maisie’s eyes. “I’m not mad. Garrett should wear whatever he likes.” I turned and walked out. As the elevator doors began to slide shut, a hand blocked them. Garrett stepped inside, his expression tight with frustration. “She was just trying to be sweet,” he said defensively. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.” I nodded, a polite smile fixed on my face. “I understand.” My composure seemed to unnerve him. He stared at me, then cleared his throat. “Weren’t you wanting to try that new French bistro downtown? Let’s go tomorrow night. Just the two of us.” That bistro had opened two years ago. The desire to go had long since died, but since I was leaving the day after tomorrow, it felt like the right time to say goodbye. “Okay,” I said. The next evening, we sat at a corner table. But before I could even open my menu, Garrett’s phone buzzed. He stood up without a word and walked out to the lobby. Five minutes later, he returned. Behind him, her eyes red and tear-stained, was Maisie. 4 Garrett pulled out a chair for her, explaining casually, “She’s had a rough day. I figured some good food would cheer her up.” My hand froze on the leather-bound menu. It was a romantic, intimate restaurant. Every table was strictly set for two. Garrett, ignoring the obvious, gestured to a passing waiter. “Can we get another chair here?” The waiter looked at the three of us, his expression strained. “I’m sorry, sir. Our seating is strictly configured for couples. We don’t have extra chairs.” Garrett frowned, his gaze shifting between Maisie and me. The decision took him less than a second. “Tell you what,” he said to me. “Maisie’s really not in a good place. Let me take her to a table nearby. Eat slowly, and once I get her settled and sent home in a cab, I’ll come back and finish dinner with you.” Without waiting for my reply, he took Maisie by the elbow and led her to an empty table across the room. I sat alone in the crowded restaurant. Every time a server walked past, they offered me a look of deep, agonizing pity. The food arrived, tasting like ash. I finished quickly, paid my half of the bill, and stood up to leave. Garrett saw me and rushed over. “Why did you eat so fast?” Maisie followed him, her voice small and trembling. “Naomi, are you mad at me? I’m so sorry for ruining your night… I didn’t mean to. If you’re upset, I’ll leave right now.” Garrett grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Don’t go. I’m the one who told you to stay.” He glared at me, his patience entirely depleted. “Naomi, I am incredibly busy, yet I still made time to take you out. What more do you want from me?” “Besides, we’re getting married in two weeks. You know how much I hate drama.” A cold smile touched my lips. I opened my mouth to tell him the wedding was off, but before the words could form, the restaurant’s fire alarms shrieked to life. Within seconds, panic erupted. The waitstaff shouted for everyone to head to the exits, but the crowd immediately bottlenecked into a frantic, shoving mass. Someone jostled me hard, sending me crashing to the floor. My palms scraped against the hardwood, burning with pain. “Garrett!” I screamed, looking up through the chaos. But he didn’t turn back. Instead, I watched his retreating back as he shielded Maisie with his body, steering her swiftly through the crowd toward the exit. He kept her tucked securely against him, ensuring she wasn’t even touched by the panic. I was left on the floor, trampled by boots and heels as the crowd surged over me. Ten minutes later, the alarm was declared a false trigger. Garrett came back inside, but I was already gone. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Garrett: Where did you go? Maisie is really shaken up. I’m going to take her home. Go back to the apartment and get some rest. This time, I didn’t reply. At 3:00 AM, I boarded a cab to the airport. At 5:20 AM, the first flight to Europe began boarding. Before the plane took off, I sent him one last text. It’s over. The wedding is cancelled. I blocked his number and deleted him from every platform. As the plane climbed into the morning sky, the lights of Boston faded into the mist below. Five years of foolishness, left behind in the clouds. Ten hours later, the plane touched down in Germany. I dragged my suitcase through the arrivals terminal, the cool European air striking my face with a sharp, unfamiliar chill. Standing in the middle of the crowd, a sudden wave of emotion hit me, warming my eyes. When I finally turned on my phone, a deluge of notifications flooded the screen. I ignored them all, except for a message from Dave. He had sent a video file, followed by a voice memo: “Naomi, you’ve really put me in a tight spot this time. This video is currently going viral across the entire company.”
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “476201”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel
Leave a Reply