Chapter 1

At our wedding reception, my bride exchanged rings with her childhood best friend first.

When I confronted him in front of everyone, he sneered without an ounce of shame.

“Heather is marrying you anyway, Wyatt. Stop being so petty and dramatic!”

Heather pointed at me, screaming insults before ripping off her veil. She turned around and walked out with him, abandoning our reception.

A barrage of sneers and whispers from the guests crashed over me. Yet in the middle of all the chaos, I felt strangely calm.

She never looked back, not even as she got into his car. In that exact second, my heart finally died.

After cleaning up the ruined venue, I dialed my late father’s old army buddy.

“Uncle Robert, I accept. I will marry your daughter.”

......

After Heather left with Brent, I stayed behind until late afternoon, cleaning up the mess alone.

I worked in a state of absolute numbness. Even when the sky opened up and poured rain, I barely felt it.

By the time I finished packing up the venue, it was already past midnight.

I dragged my exhausted body through the empty streets, feeling like a stray dog with nowhere to go.

After starving all day and getting soaked in the freezing rain, my body finally gave out. I collapsed right onto the wet pavement.

When I woke up, I was lying in a sterile hospital bed. A street cleaner had found me and called an ambulance.

I checked my phone. An entire night had passed, and Heather had not called or texted once.

Once the IV bag emptied, I signed the discharge papers and went home.

The moment I pushed the front door open, I knew something was wrong.

Men and women’s clothes were scattered everywhere, trailing from the entryway straight to the master bedroom.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Indecent, muffled sounds drifted out from inside.

My blood ran cold.

They were doing this right inside my house, completely ignoring my existence.

Part of me wanted to kick the door open and expose their filth.

Yet my feet felt glued to the floor, paralyzed as I listened to the entire thing.

Then, the doorknob turned, and the door clicked open.

Heather froze in panic when she saw me, but she regained her composure in a split second.

“When did you get back?”

“Just now,” I answered in a hollow voice.

Heather let out a sigh of relief and slipped back into her usual complaining tone.

“Why didn't you text me before coming home?”

Before I could reply, Brent strolled out of the bedroom, offering me a smug grin.

“Hey, Wyatt. Good to see you back, man.”

The bedroom door was wide open now, giving me a clear view of the wrecked bed.

Used wrappers and intimate toys were tossed openly across the rumpled sheets.

A wave of nausea hit me so hard that I had to cover my mouth and nose.

Heather glanced at the messy bed, then turned to me, offering a rare excuse.

“The water heater at Brent’s apartment broke, so he just came over to take a shower. Do not overthink it.”

If the fresh marks on her neck were not so obvious and the scent in the air not so pungent, I might have been foolish enough to believe her.

Now that the truth was staring me in the face, how could I keep lying to myself?

Yesterday, she chased after Brent without a second thought, leaving me to face all the humiliation alone.

When the cold whispers of the crowd drowned me, I already knew it was over.

She never loved me.

Our five-year relationship had finally reached its end.

Seeing my silence, Heather knitted her brows, her patience wearing thin.

“Wyatt, who are you giving that dirty look to? I already explained it to you.”

“What else do you want from me? Don't you get tired of being so paranoid all the time?”

Her tone was as righteous as ever.

In the past, I would have rushed over to apologize, drowning in guilt for doubting her.

Now, I only felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.

I would never believe another word that came out of her mouth.