Chapter 3

3.

I erased all records of my trip to Miami and returned to the Tribeca penthouse Carter and I shared.

I pulled out all the Hermès bags and Cartier jewelry he had given me over the years and, one by one, I cut them up and smashed them.

It's strange.

My mind was a complete blank, yet the tears just wouldn't stop.

I stood up and spread the haute couture wedding gown, flown in from Paris, on the floor.

With a blank expression, I picked up a pair of scissors and sliced a long, deep gash through the lace skirt.

A relationship is like this gown. Once it's torn, no matter how you try to mend it, it can never be perfect again.

After cleaning up the mess, I piled everything into his study, a room he rarely set foot in.

Lying in bed, unable to sleep, I scrolled through TikTok. The algorithm suggested a "person you may know."

The ID was [Love_Carter_1998].

On a whim, I clicked on it.

It was a series of video diaries a girl had made about her crush on a guy.

Her latest post was geotagged in Miami.

The caption read: The man I've loved for ten years is getting married next month. I want to work up the courage to confess one last time. Wish me luck.

In her photo, I saw a familiar hand holding a glass of whiskey.

On the ring finger was our engagement ring.

It was Carter.