Sawyer Patterson intended to leave me again for his childhood sweetheart, Mathilde Payne.

We'd been together for ten years, and this was our seventh engagement party.

For the previous six times, Mathilde always had some kind of emergency.

This time, I wasn't going to let him go. "We're about to exchange rings. It won't take long. She's just got a slight fever. It's not a big deal if you go later, right?"

Sawyer lost it. "Can you stop making a scene? Mathilde has always been frail. We've been together for ten years. We can do without a ceremony."

He walked out, leaving me behind with a broken heart.

This time, I was truly done with him.

I stood at the center of the stage, heartbroken.

Just like before, Sawyer Patterson walked away without looking back. He ignored the guests' stares, leaving me to face their whispers alone.

This was our tenth year together. In another year, I'd be 35.

Sawyer and I grew up together. Our families jokingly matched us before we were born. No one took it seriously, except me.

I'd secretly loved Sawyer, dreaming of marrying him one day.

Sawyer's father stuck to outdated business decisions. Their company's stock plummeted, and they were near bankruptcy.

Then they remembered that promise, hoping a marriage could save them.

My parents, seasoned in business, saw through their plan and were ready to refuse. But I overheard their conversation and threw a fit, insisting on marrying Sawyer.

My parents compromised, agreeing to let us date first.

Everyone thought I was just infatuated. With my status, I could have aimed higher. No one expected it to last ten years.

This seventh engagement party had far fewer guests than the first. Even my parents stayed away. Only those currying favor with my family showed up.

In front of everyone, I called Sawyer, my last act as a lovesick fool.

"Sawyer, come on. Everyone is waiting for you," I said. "This is already our seventh engagement party."

His voice echoed through the banquet hall's megaphone.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" he huffed. "Mathilde's got a fever. What's more important, a life or some meaningless ceremony? We've been together for ten years, and you still don't trust me?"

He sighed and added, "Stop calling, okay? I'll make up for the party."

I tried to plead, but he hung up.

The crowd let out a collective sigh. This wasn't the first time I'd been humiliated by Sawyer. I was used to it.

Like the previous six times, I calmly arranged drivers for the guests and endured their gossip.

My parents nearly cut me off because of the embarrassment.

After seeing off the last guest, I checked my phone.

There, Mathilde had posted something new, with a photo of two hands clasped together. The caption went like, [Far from home, glad he is here.]

One hand wore a coral bracelet. It was Sawyer's, made by Mathilde for his birthday.

I had once given him a diamond bracelet, but he sold it the next day, gave the money to Mathilde, and wore her coral bracelet instead.

When I confronted him, he brushed me off. "You gave me the gift. How I handle it is my business. Mathilde is struggling here and not well. I'm her friend. What's wrong with helping her? Besides, she made this coral bracelet herself. It's way more thoughtful than yours. How could I let her down?"

After that, every year for his birthday, I not only bought Sawyer expensive gifts but also made something by hand, such as necklaces, bracelets, scrapbooks, and scarves.

I tried everything, but he never cared.

Mathilde posted this to taunt me. Whenever Sawyer and I had plans, she'd text him and make him ditch me.

Alone in the massive banquet hall, I opened bottle after bottle of vintage wine and downed them.

My stomach started to burn, but the alcohol dulled my pain.

This time, I swore I wouldn't forgive Sawyer.

...

I woke up with a pounding headache.

As expected, Sawyer didn't come home all night.

I didn't call him like I used to. Instead, I cooked myself a bowl of hangover soup, the same I had made for him when he came home reeking of booze after staying out all night.

Then I threw myself into work, trying to forget the pain he caused. Our company was about to go public, and this was a critical time.

I sipped my soup and typed on my laptop when Sawyer walked in. Staying up brought him dark circles, but his face radiated joy.

He jumped, surprised to see me awake at six in the morning. He nervously approached, peering at what I was doing and placing his hands on my shoulders to massage them.

I kept a stone-cold expression, not saying a word.

"You're up early today," he started. "Wanna go back to bed for a bit?"

He knew I was mad, so his tone was much softer than usual. "I'm sorry I left you yesterday, but I was worried about Mathilde. You know, she has no family or other friends here. And she saved me from drowning when we were kids. I owe her."

Seeing no reaction from me, Sawyer shut my laptop and pulled me onto his lap, cooing at me.

Once, his sweet talk would have softened me. Not this time.

"I've told you so many times. It wasn't Mathilde who saved you," I said. "Why wouldn't you believe me?"

"You're not saying you saved me again," he sulked. "I woke up in Mathilde's arms after nearly drowning. You don't need to lie."

He never believed me.

"You know what? We're done," I said. "Since you care about her so much, I won't stand in your way."

It was the first time in ten years I'd brought up breaking up.

Sawyer panicked. "I've told you a million times. Mathilde is just a friend. What are you freaking out about? She saved my life. You could at least help me look out for her instead of throwing a tantrum. Can you stop being so childish?"

I pushed him off me and started packing my things. "Not a tantrum. I mean it. I'll talk to our families and clear things up."

I kept spare clothes at my apartment near the company, so packing was quick.

Then I called my driver.

Sawyer probably thought I meant it. He grabbed my arm, tears welling up. "You're just mad about the engagement party, right? Let's have it next weekend."

I'd always hated seeing Sawyer cry.

It broke my heart, and this time was no different. Despite the pain, I still loved him.

As I reached to wipe his tears, his phone rang on the table.

I knew that ringtone all too well. Sawyer had set a special ringtone for Mathilde so that he'd never miss her calls.

My hand froze mid-air.

After taking the call, Sawyer grabbed his bag and rushed to put on his shoes.

"The doctor says Mathilde's fever spiked again," he said. "I gotta check on her. Be good and wait for me at home. I'm already exhausted from taking care of her."

He leaned in to kiss my cheek, but I dodged.

He wanted to say more, but his phone kept ringing. He glanced at me and left.

The scene was all too familiar, etched in my memory.

I'd planned to head to my apartment to catch up on work delayed by the engagement. Then my mom, Celeste O'Connor, called, insisting I come home.

They must have heard about the failed engagement party. They'd practically disowned me for embarrassing them. I didn't know why they suddenly wanted me back.

At the villa, my parents sat on the couch, as loving as ever.

Seeing them made my heart ache. Their happy marriage had once convinced me that if I gave enough, I'd have that happiness, too.

I'd given ten years and got nothing but heartbreak.

As I went to greet them, a sharp voice interrupted. It was Sawyer's mom, Linda Patterson.

She was dressed to the nines, her bright red nails gripping a cup.

"Elsie, did you upset Sawyer again?" she asked. "You grew up together. Knowing his temper, you should be more understanding."

Robert Patterson cleared his throat, seemingly to rein in his wife, but everyone knew they were two peas in a pod. They were playing good cop, bad cop.

Logically, our family's business was thriving. Without our support, the Pattersons would have gone under long ago.

But because I'd been so hung up on Sawyer, they thought they could walk all over us.

I knew they had been siphoning off our resources and stealing our deals behind our backs. My parents, though frustrated with me, couldn't just cut off their support, especially since I was dead set on marrying Sawyer. They had just turned a blind eye.

I figured this visit wasn't just about Sawyer. It was about money, too.

"Forget it. I'm not getting involved in your drama," Linda said, turning to my parents. "Actually, we're here about the company. We're strapped for cash. Since we'll be in-laws someday, a little help would benefit us all."

This wasn't the first time Sawyer's parents had come asking for money. They'd been addicted to gambling ever since they were sure Sawyer and I would marry.

My dad glanced at me, waiting for my stance.

Linda and Robert looked smug, but they were bound to be disappointed this time.