In that moment, an overwhelming need for an explanation surged through me—for the eight years I had devoted to him. Without thinking, I rushed over and instinctively hooked my arm through Jimmy’s.

"My dear, Mom asked me to call you to the engagement party," I said, striving for a calmness I didn’t feel.

But the moment he laid eyes on me, his expression flickered with fear. Was he scared of being caught, or was he anxious about how Cynthia would react? Did he worry I’d discovered his betrayal, or was he concerned that she’d find out about our engagement?

I didn’t have to wonder for long. With a swift motion, he threw my arm off, his glare slicing through the air like a knife.

"Who told you to follow me here?" He snapped, his voice sharp. "What are you saying in public?"

His gaze darted to Cynthia, who stood frozen, her face pale and wide-eyed with shock. Panic rippled through him as he turned back to me, his voice edged with irritation.

"Do I have to go to the engagement party? Can’t you handle these things yourself? Why can’t you be more mature?"

Tears welled up in my eyes as memories flooded back. I recalled the anxiety I had felt meeting his parents, meticulously preparing to make a good impression. Now, all those efforts felt utterly worthless.

For several nights, I watched them interact, a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak churning inside me. Finally, he took the phone away, distressed and unable to convince her any longer. His eyes, usually so warm, burned with fierce determination as he said,

"Honey, can you try to rely on me? If you have to deal with everything on your own, then what's the point of having me as your husband? Huh? Be good. I’m here for you."

That phrase—“I’m here”—had been my anchor year after year, but this time, it struck a different chord. Without a second glance, I turned and walked away.

Behind me, I heard a loud slap—a resounding crack that echoed in the charged air. Cynthia had struck him. A bright red mark blossomed on his cheek, but instead of anger, his expression was filled with concern for her.

"Does your hand hurt?" he asked softly, his voice almost a whisper.

Cynthia’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she pointed at me, her voice trembling with raw emotion. "Jimmy, I want you to say it. If you want me, do you still want her?"

Without a moment's hesitation, he replied, "I want you! She’s just a substitute. I can cancel the engagement for you anytime!"

He thought I was far enough away not to hear him, but his words pierced through the distance like shards of glass.

After I left, I finally received an unexpected call.

“Girl, you lose.”

It was my grandfather on the line. He had always disapproved of Jimmy, convinced that we wouldn’t find happiness together. Despite his warnings, my love for Jimmy had blinded me to all opinions but my own. This stubbornness led to a bet that had defined the last ten years of my life. I had wagered that Jimmy would never fall for anyone else. If I lost, I promised to return to blind dating; if he lost, he would give me a sea-view villa as my dowry.

Now, with Jimmy and Cynthia kissing live on the Internet, it was impossible for Grandpa not to know about it. I took a deep breath before responding, the weight of defeat heavy on my chest.

“Yeah, I’ll go back to blind dating, but not for another month.”

His voice erupted, thunderous and full of frustration, as if I could hear him blowing his beard in anger. “What? You haven’t given up yet! You still want to give him a chance, right?”

I understood Grandpa's protectiveness, his urgent desire to pull me away from this painful situation as quickly as possible. But the truth was, my sorrow had morphed into a relentless fire inside me. I wanted to repay the pain others had inflicted upon me, piece by piece, until I felt whole again.

The engagement party had ended abruptly, overshadowed by the absence of its main characters. I sat alone in the wedding suite, surrounded by twinkling decorations and an air thick with unspoken promises, waiting from three in the afternoon until three in the morning for Jimmy to return.

Finally, I heard the sound of a car engine rumbling to a stop downstairs.

When he opened the door and saw me, surprise flickered across his face, and he touched his nose guiltily.

"Why aren’t you asleep yet?" he asked, attempting to sound casual, but his voice betrayed him.

I stepped forward and hugged him tightly, just as I always did.

"I can’t sleep without you," I replied softly, my voice steady despite the storm brewing within me.

Seeing that I wasn’t bringing up the day’s events, he sighed in relief. But then, my gaze caught on the bulge in his trouser pockets—something that didn’t belong there. A flash of red lace peeked out, and a faint, lingering sticky smell filled the air, wrapping around my senses like a noose.

Suddenly, Jimmy pushed me away, as if I had shocked him.

"I... I need to go to the bathroom," he stammered, backing away, his eyes darting.

Curiosity piqued, I pressed my ear against the bathroom door and overheard his hushed conversation with Cynthia.

"What are you doing? You had to let me wash your things, and she almost discovered them!"

Cynthia replied with a mocking lilt, "I’ll let you wash it. It’s stained with your things!"

The reality of his betrayal hit me hard, like a punch to the gut.

“Besides, it’s better to be discovered. I just want to show her who the man you are!” Cynthia's voice echoed in my mind, laced with contempt. Jimmy chuckled, clearly caught off guard by her audacity, a weak smile gracing his lips.

“Your... your…” he trailed off, and I pretended not to hear, the weight of his words pressing down on me.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, he found me painting on the bedside table, deliberately focused on my work to hide the turmoil roiling inside me. I pulled him over eagerly.

“Draw with me!”

Perhaps feeling guilty about what had transpired that day, he seemed unusually talkative. He nodded and settled beside me, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic mess I had created. A mix of amusement and frustration danced in his eyes as he gently patted my head with a pencil.

“Stupid!” he teased lightly.

He took my hand instinctively, guiding my strokes with his, his touch sending a shiver down my spine.

“Look, if you draw this line like this, the curvature will be natural…”

I found myself entranced, my focus drifting to the intensity of his jawline, captivated as always by his seriousness—the very quality that had drawn me in after eight long years together.

With the final touch, our painting was complete—a small garden with a family of three nestled beside it. I held it up, grinning despite the tears threatening to spill.

“How about we arrange the garden like this in the future?”

His expression softened for a fleeting moment, a wistful smile creeping onto his lips as he looked at me, lost in thought.

“Good…”

I lowered my eyes, hiding the cold calculation brewing within me. After eight years, I knew him better than he knew himself.

Once I leave, this painting will one day become a sharp blade that pierces his heart—a reminder of everything he lost.

What unfolded on the day of the award ceremony quickly became a viral sensation. Cynthia and Jimmy, once the couple everyone adored, had reignited their romance, and the applause echoing in the halls was thunderous. Yet, earlier that morning, news of my engagement to Jimmy had also made headlines, sparking a whirlwind of mixed reactions.

Suddenly, an army of zealous fans stormed my comment section, unleashing a torrent of insults.

"Bitch, the mistress is the one who isn’t loved! If you had any shame, you’d leave Director Russell now!"

"Get lost! Our dear Cynthia and Director Russell are the perfect match. You toad spirit, just clear out!"

"Why aren’t you dead yet? If you kick the bucket, make room for me, Pope!"

The vitriol was unbearable, a relentless assault on my heart. Meanwhile, beneath my posts, they updated their travel statuses in real time, documenting their adventures together. In a desperate bid to make up for eight years apart, Jimmy and Cynthia seemed to explore the world hand in hand, leaving me to grapple with the wreckage of our shattered dreams.

Photos flooded in of them in breathtaking locations: the setting sun casting golden hues over the Carson Desert and the sky melding seamlessly with the ocean’s vibrant blue. Every image captured the two of them in intimate embraces, portraying them as the perfect couple.

They naively believed their words would irritate me, but I was merely counting the days, calculating how long it would take for Jimmy to tire of this new chapter with Cynthia.

Days turned into an agonizing blur, and finally, Jimmy noticed the online chatter. He rushed home that very night, the weight of guilt etched across his face.

"Cynthia and I—" he began, but before he could finish, I cut him off, my voice steady and unwavering.

"Help me choose which wedding candy we should use."

He paused, momentarily confused by my unexpected question. I tossed a few photos of the wedding hall at him, feigning irritation.

"You choose! You’ve been so busy working every day while I’ve been nearly exhausted!"

Realization dawned on him that I might not have seen the online commotion, and relief washed over his face. He stepped closer, squeezing my shoulders with sincerity that felt almost foreign.

"Thank you for your hard work, my wife. Come on, I’ll handle the rest. You just relax."

As I leaned back on the sofa, a twinge of sarcasm danced within me, watching him take charge of such seriousness. It was almost comical how he tried to maintain this façade while navigating the mess he’d created.

The wedding he meticulously arranged became all the more fulfilling to witness as it crumbled around him. In the days that followed, he dove headfirst into planning every detail of the wedding, just as he had promised. But this newfound dedication led to several heated arguments with Cynthia. Their personalities clashed frequently, making their quarrels seem almost routine. Even during their travels, the photos fans sent me revealed Jimmy's dissatisfaction, captured in every subtle microexpression.

After eight years together, I understood him better than anyone else. To him, Cynthia was merely a fleeting novelty, a contradiction that would soon wear thin. Once the initial excitement faded, boredom would inevitably creep in.

I could hear them arguing from the bathroom.

"Are you done yet? This is simply unreasonable!" Jimmy's voice rose, laced with frustration.

"Try fucking saying something to me again!" Cynthia shot back, her tone equally sharp.

His patience was wearing thin. "Can’t you communicate without being rude? You spew filth every time you speak, and I can’t take it anymore!"

"And don’t think I don’t know that you led the internet to bully Maya. Stop using such underhanded tactics, Cynthia!"

In the following days, their relationship devolved into a cold war, each retreating to their corners, simmering in their unresolved tensions. The atmosphere in the house thickened with animosity, and I found myself watching their interactions unfold like a slow-motion train wreck, feeling a mix of satisfaction and sorrow.

Levi, my long time friend, soon realized that he had been neglecting me, prompting Jimmy to buckle down and prepare seriously for the wedding. He had always believed I was oblivious to his relationship with Cynthia, which allowed him to act without any psychological burden. However, as the wedding date approached, Jimmy's demeanor shifted; he grew increasingly panicked.

"Maya, why has your family been so quiet lately? You still haven't prepared a guest list for the wedding!"

In reality, my entire family blocked him the day he abandoned me at the engagement party. I scrambled for a flimsy excuse.

"I have a lot of family members, and preparing invitations is too troublesome. They'll just come when the time comes."

He leaned closer, worry etched across his face. “Maya, why isn’t your engagement ring on your finger?”

I shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I don’t know where it fell.”

His lips quivered as he proposed, “Let’s buy another one. We can go right now.”

I brushed his hand away, feigning indifference. “Forget it; it’s too late for that.”

Panic crept into his demeanor, and he pulled me into his arms, his kisses urgent and insistent. “Maya,” he murmured, unease lacing his voice, “our wedding is still on, right?”

On the eve of the wedding, Cynthia's doctor arrived. After Cynthia returned to America, Jimmy learned that she wasn’t fond of hospital visits, so he arranged for a private doctor to attend to her. As the doctor opened the box in his hand, a stunning ruby necklace lay inside. I recognized it immediately; I had seen it in Jimmy's study. He had fiercely competed at an auction to obtain it, even offending friends in the process. For eight years, it had remained sealed away, untouched.

When I had merely brushed against it before, Jimmy had flown into a rage for the first time. It dawned on me that this necklace had been intended for Cynthia from the very beginning. The doctor’s gaze fell on our clasped hands, and almost instinctively, Jimmy let go.

He scoffed, "What, is she here to admit her mistake?"

His words were serious, yet there was no anger in his expression. The arrival of the personal doctor seemed to lift the weight from his brow, which had been furrowed with worry for days. The doctor returned the ruby necklace to him, maintaining a calm demeanor as he said, "Miss Cynthia is going abroad tonight and will never return. I’m here to return this necklace to you."

In an instant, Jimmy’s facade of calm shattered. Ignoring my presence entirely, he grabbed the personal doctor's collar in a fit of rage. "Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What was the point of hiring you?"

Without bothering to change his clothes, he sprinted to the garage in a frenzy. As I reached the door, I called out to him, "Jimmy, you’re getting married tomorrow! Can’t you spend one last night with me?"

On this final night, I wanted to say goodbye to the past eight years. He turned back, his expression torn. "Maya, I’ll have plenty of time for marriage later. A friend is going abroad, and I need to see her."

I swallowed my words, forcing a smile. "Then make sure to come back tonight."

Just an hour earlier, I had received a provocative message from Cynthia:

"Do you really believe I’d let your husband spend the night before the wedding with another woman?"

I sat alone in the bright red wedding room for what felt like an eternity, lost in thought.

By the next day, as the makeup artist arrived, Jimmy still hadn’t come back. My phone buzzed with a message that made my heart drop. The photo showed Cynthia and Jimmy asleep together, both of them completely naked.

I dismissed the makeup team and stripped away all the vibrant red decor from the wedding room. Instead, I prepared a slideshow featuring the evidence of their betrayal, which would play during the wedding ceremony. Jimmy, you’ve single-handedly ruined our wedding.

I had looked forward to this day for eight long years, yet here I was, watching him be affectionate with Cynthia instead. I arrived at the wedding venue just after noon, feeling the weight of betrayal heavy on my shoulders.

I was ready to leave this place of heartbreak behind. With a plane ticket in hand, I made my way to the airport, determined to escape the pain that had woven itself into every corner of my life. As soon as I arrived, I switched on the live feed of the wedding hall on my phone, my heart racing with a mix of anticipation and dread.

The moment Jimmy arrived, he was swarmed by a crowd of people, their voices blending into a chaotic chorus.

“Jimmy, have you seen Maya?” One guest shouted, eyes wide with concern.

“Yeah, Jimmy! Why are you so late? I searched the entire banquet hall, but Maya and her family were nowhere to be found!”