Chapter 1

1 The day after our engagement party, my fiancé asked me to go with him to pick up our custom rings. I waited outside the boutique until the security gates rolled down, but he never showed up.

On my way back, a text finally popped up on my phone:

"Cecelia got food poisoning, so I have to take her to urgent care first."

I dialed his number immediately. A woman's breathless, sweet voice answered instead:

"Damian is totally wiped out after working out with me. Call back tomorrow if it's important!"

In the four years we had been together, his childhood friend always seemed to have an emergency whenever I needed him. Without fail, he would drop everything and run to her side.

Even when it came to something as sacred as picking up our wedding bands, he abandoned me without a second thought.

A bone-deep exhaustion washed over me. I replied in a flat, calm tone:

"Don't bother. We're done."

……

Without waiting for her to respond, I ended the call.

I looked down at the velvet box in my hand, containing the ring I had waited all day to collect, and let out a bitter laugh.

A second later, I tossed the expensive diamond straight into the dark storm drain by the curb.

If a relationship required this much begging, I didn't want it anymore.

When I returned to our apartment, the silence was deafening. I couldn't even remember the last night Damian had actually slept here.

His excuses had grown increasingly ridiculous over the months. He claimed Cecelia was terrified of sleeping alone in her downtown condo.

He insisted he had to stay over to protect her.

I had fought back in the beginning. I had once lost my mind and smashed every plate and vase in the living room during a screaming match.

Yet he had only sat on the couch, watching me unravel with icy detachment, before sneering:

"She's practically my little sister. She walks on eggshells just so you don't get mad, so why can't you tolerate her?"

"When the hell did you become so bitter and heartless?"

The moment I saw that chilling look in his eyes, every word of hurt died in my throat.

In his eyes, my genuine heartbreak was nothing more than unreasonable hysteria.

By the end, I was so numb that I would even pack his overnight bag for him, swallowing my dignity just to plead:

"Please come home early tomorrow, okay?"

I knew I had degraded myself in this relationship, but I couldn't let go of the man I had loved for a decade.

The year we met had been the darkest chapter of my life.

My parents were constantly working overseas in New York, leaving me behind with private tutors. Because I was pretty and top of my class, I became the prime target for high school bullies.

My notebooks were shredded, dead rats were shoved into my locker, and I was dragged into bathroom stalls and beaten.

I had genuinely wanted to end it all.

On the rainy afternoon I stood outside a pharmacy intending to buy sleeping pills, Damian had stepped into my path:

"Give me cash, and I'll make your problems disappear."

It was a straightforward deal.

Desperate and out of options, I handed over most of my monthly allowance.

That very afternoon, none of the bullies dared to look in my direction again, and my life remained peaceful until graduation.

Only later did I find out that Damian had landed in the ER after getting into a brutal fistfight to protect me.

From that day on, he became my savior.

He was the anchor I thought I could never live without.

Now, everything had turned to ash.

A few months ago, when I leaned on his shoulder and vented about being mistreated by a toxic manager at work, he didn't comfort me like he used to.

Instead, he scoffed coldly:

"Why does everyone target you? Ever think that maybe you're the problem?"

In an instant, my blood ran cold.

I stared at the man I had loved for years, completely stunned.

It felt as though his soul had rotted away, leaving behind only a foul stranger.

The next day, while I was spiraling in a severe depressive episode, he boarded a private jet to take Cecelia to a luxury resort in Hawaii.

Lying on the bathroom floor, struggling for air, I used the last ounce of my strength to dial his number:

"Damian... it hurts so bad... please come back..."

After a few seconds of dead silence, a mocking sneer came through the speaker:

"Sasha, haven't you gotten tired of playing the victim after all these years? If you really wanted to die, you wouldn't be calling me."

"Pick a better time to stage your drama. Cecelia and I are heading to the private hot tub, so don't ruin our mood."

He hung up abruptly, entirely indifferent to whether I lived or died.

The phone slipped from my limp fingers.

The memory of the teenage boy who had fought until his knuckles bled for me flashed before my eyes.

Only then did the brutal truth sink in.

He truly didn't love me anymore.