Chapter 2

2

As the plane was taxiing, I got a text from Ashley.

"Dylan, grow up. Stop throwing a tantrum."

"Let's not talk for a few days, okay? Just chill out."

I ignored it. I clicked on Brad's Instagram.

He posted a picture a minute ago.

"Wife surprised me with a candlelit dinner! So lucky. #blessed"

I guess Ashley still wanted to make sure I was thinking about her while she's out having a romantic dinner with her precious husband.

The nine-picture collage was full of her hand wearing the diamond ring.

Also, screenshots of their text messages. It was all Ashley gushing over Brad, babying him and being sweet. It was like I was looking at a different person.

I scrolled back through his posts, one by one. I wanted to know everything.

They met a year ago. He was head over heels from the start, but Ashley played hard to get.

Then, six months ago, Ashley suddenly made a move and planned this huge, over-the-top proposal.

Roses, candles, balloons, the whole nine yards. Straight out of a rom-com.

"Girlfriend said she didn't want to waste my love, so she had to do it big. #blessed"

I saw the comments flooding in with congrats. My gut twisted, even though I knew it was coming.

Six months ago, that's when I first asked Ashley to marry me.

Ashley didn't want to waste Brad's love, but she didn't mind making a joke out of my seven years.

And during those six months they were together, she dragged him to all our spots, took pictures, and plastered them all over social media.

I saved all the pictures, then blocked Ashley on everything and turned off my phone.

For three months, I didn't talk to anyone except my family.

My brother said Ashley was looking for me, but he dropped it when I didn't seem to care.

I went to all the places I'd always wanted to go, places Ashley wouldn't let me visit. I saw new things and met interesting people.

When the trip was over, I flew back.

When I saw Ashley waiting for me at the airport, I didn't feel a thing.

"Dylan, do I need to remind you you're pushing thirty?"

"Acting like a kid, running away from home? So embarrassing."

I grabbed my suitcase, not even bothering to ask how she knew my flight, and said calmly, "First, I'm 27, not 30."

"Second, I can go wherever I want. I don't need to worry about your opinion."

"Third, we're over. That's not my home anymore."

Ashley froze for a second, then grabbed my arm.

"What does that mean?"

"Dylan, stop being so dramatic!"

I pulled my arm away and looked her straight in the eye.

"Ashley, we've known each other for 20 years, dated for seven. You know I don't joke about this."

"We're done."