Chapter 2

His excuse was always that he hated taking pictures.

On every single holiday and anniversary, I was the only one buying gifts.

He claimed he despised meaningless commercial rituals.

Every road trip, dinner reservation, and date was meticulously planned by me alone.

He said handling those logistics was a waste of time that could be better spent making money.

Over time, my initial hurt morphed into quiet acceptance and numb compliance.

For seven years, I was the only one constantly changing and yielding.

Now, looking at the screen, my chest ached with unbearable pain. It was never that he couldn't change or make an effort―it was just that I was never worth it to him.

Throughout our relationship, I envied other girls countless times, only to comfort myself that Heath just had a unique way of expressing love.

Looking back now, was his love telling me to stay away so I wouldn't disturb his sleep when I cried?

Was his love simply texting me to drink hot water when I was burning with a fever?

Was his love gifting me red roses on my birthday every year, knowing full well roses were the only flower I despised?

When you lie to yourself for too long, you just turn numb.

A while ago, Heath met up with his old college buddies who were visiting town and told me to drop by halfway through.

I had rushed to the restaurant with a racing heart, thrilled because it was the first time he ever invited me to meet his inner circle.

Standing outside the private dining room, I overheard their unfiltered conversation through the crack in the door.

"Wait, you're really getting married? I thought you didn't love her. Are you doing this just to spite her sister?"

I heard Heath reply in a cold, detached tone, "Does love even matter that much?"

That vague answer made my heart plunge into an icy abyss, but before I could think, the door swung open.

Seeing me standing there, Heath stood up, pulled me into his arms, wrapped a hand around my waist, and chuckled. "Everyone, meet my fiancée."

Hearing that, my suspended heart finally settled back into place.

I looked at him with total adoration, failing to notice the fleeting panic in his eyes.

Now, every single puzzle piece fell into place with chilling clarity.

I had no excuses left to deceive myself.

I tilted my head back, fighting to hold in my tears, when my eyes caught sight of the matching couple's hoodies sitting in the trash can.

I had seen other couples wearing matching outfits and envied them, so I bought a set for us.

The day I gave it to him, his face darkened, though he only grumbled, "Don't waste money on this crap again. We're grown adults, stop being so childish."

Yet when he finally put it on, I had beamed like an idiot.

The files on his laptop explicitly stated that Sienna hated that hoodie, which was why it was now rotting in the garbage.

I pulled out my phone, ready to call Heath and end this nightmare.

Opening our text thread, I saw our last exchange was from two weeks ago.

I had asked him which wedding band design he preferred, and he had never bothered to reply.

On an impulse, I clicked onto his social media profile.

His latest and only pinned post was a picture from a scenic overlook, featuring the slender silhouette of a woman from behind.

It was not me.

A bitter laugh tore from my throat as I slid down against the wall, sitting on the floor.

He was already parading her so brazenly, yet here I was, playing the pathetic fool.

All along, I deluded myself into believing we shared true love.

Now that the pretty veil was ripped away, only the ugly, naked truth remained.