"Fine, don't apologize. Then make it right with actions! Call everyone and tell them the wedding's off because you changed your mind!"

As if afraid I'd refuse, she hung up immediately.

Then sent me a text:

Wilfred, I'm begging you, please stop making this harder than it has to be. Graham and I are just signing a piece of paper. It doesn't mean anything. Canceling the wedding is just so we can save your dream ceremony for the right time.

The familiar words stung my eyes until they burned.

The right time.

I'd been hearing that for eight years. Nearly three thousand days and nights, waiting for her to marry me.

Instead, I'd waited just long enough to watch her become someone else's legal wife.

Carrie, I'm done waiting for you.

Because we were never right for each other.

She recalled the message.

Then sent a new one:

That last message wasn't something Graham should see. He's sensitive and reads too much into things. Just do what I asked, okay? Whatever I owe you, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you after those three years.

I actually laughed out loud.

I waited two minutes. Sure enough, she recalled that message too.

So which one of us was she really lying to? Me, or herself?

Her childhood sweetheart wanted to be a father, and somehow she'd volunteered to carry the baby for him?

Even if I took a massive step back and accepted that she was just "helping out," why did she care so much about Graham's feelings over the promises she'd made to me?

She'd gone this far just so her childhood friend could play daddy.

So how exactly had that child been conceived?

I shook my head, forcing the ugly speculation out of my mind.

I typed a quick "okay" and hit send.

A red exclamation mark appeared beside the message.

She'd already deleted me from her contacts. To keep Graham happy.

Just as well.

I didn't dwell on it. I posted an announcement on social media that the wedding was off.

Immediately, people started asking why.

Not wanting to stir up drama, I repeated Carrie's version of events: I'd decided I wasn't ready to get married yet.

But my friends flooded my inbox, telling me I was an idiot:

"Wilfred, Carrie isn't that broke little nobody anymore. She's the kind of woman every man wants. You call off the wedding now, you're practically handing your wife to someone else on a silver platter."

I didn't reply.

Because Carrie was already someone else's wife.

Shortly after I made the post, Graham sent me a photo of their marriage certificate.

His tone dripped with smugness as he thanked me for stepping aside.

"Wilfred, my man. Thanks for the assist. Carrie and I were originally getting the certificate tomorrow, but she pulled some strings and got it rushed through today just to make me feel better!"

I didn't bother responding. Delete. Block. Done.

My phone buzzed. My mother called, her voice sharp with fury.

"Are you out of your mind? The fruit's right there on the branch and you won't pick it! What kind of game are you playing? By the time you decide you want to get married, she might not want you anymore!"

I let out a quiet laugh.

"What if she's the one who doesn't want to get married? To me?"

My mother went silent for a beat, then her scolding came back twice as fierce.

"Then you clearly did something wrong! Swallow your pride and sweet-talk her. You've spent years building her up from nothing. Don't tell me you're going to walk away with nothing to show for it!"

Eight years with Carrie. She always said the same thing: career first, family later.

But when she finally made it, the family she wanted wasn't with me.

It wasn't that I hadn't tried. Trying just didn't matter.

For eight years, I'd shelved my own dreams to help build hers. When we lived in that basement apartment, she ate instant noodles while I filled up on the broth.

I'd proposed more times than I could count, all for the chance to call her my wife.

She'd gotten pregnant three times without telling me, and three times she'd ended it. I'd swallowed that too.

All because she said the timing wasn't right. She didn't want a child to suffer alongside us.

I loved her, so whatever she said, no matter how deeply it cut, I gave her what she wanted.

Just like tonight. She said she wanted to get a marriage license with her childhood sweetheart.

In that moment, even as my heart split open, I felt a strange sense of relief.

Better this way. At least I wouldn't have to keep groveling in the dirt, waiting for her to marry me.

My mom was still on the phone, chattering away about how to win a girl's heart. The grievances piled up in my chest suddenly lost all desire to be spoken.

"Mom, the wedding's off. I'm not marrying her."

I hung up and called the wedding planning company to cancel tomorrow's ceremony.

The emcee went quiet for a beat before speaking.

"Ms. Delgado already called about this. But she asked us to keep the decorations and banners in storage for three years. That's going to be tough. Most of it's single-use material..."

It hit me instantly. It wasn't that she hadn't had time to notify the guests on both sides.

She just didn't want to deal with the questions.

And she assumed I'd be like those cheap decorations, sitting in storage, waiting for her for three years.

"Throw it all out. Even if it weren't disposable, three years in storage would rot it."

Just like her love for me.

It would fade with time until nothing remained.

After I hung up, I pulled up Isabella Delgado's number and stared at it, dreading the conversation.

She despised Graham. If she found out her daughter had already gotten a marriage license with him, she'd probably have a stroke.

I took a deep breath and wired back the eighty-eight thousand dollars of dowry money she'd transferred to me.

I counted to three in my head. The phone rang.

"Wilfred, why did you send the money back?"

"Mom, Carrie and I are putting the wedding on hold. I'm going abroad for three years."

Even though I was telling the truth, Isabella was too sharp not to sense something was wrong.

"Did Carrie do something to hurt you? I'm going over there right now! The wedding is happening tomorrow, and that's final!"

"Ma'am, the wedding really can't go forward..."

But Isabella had already hung up.

That was Carrie's headache now, figuring out how to handle her own mother.

And it was time for me to pack and leave.

The apartment was decked out for a newlywed couple. Every detail reflected the happy life I'd imagined after the wedding.

Now every single one of them was a blade buried in my chest.

There wasn't much to take. One suitcase, not even full.

But there was plenty to throw away.

By the time I finished, I noticed Carrie had called me several times.

Didn't take a genius to figure out why. She was going to blame me for not handling Isabella.

I left the key on the entryway table and grabbed the last framed wedding photo on my way out.

I walked straight into Carrie.

The photo crashed to the floor and shattered.

A shard sliced across the top of my foot, and blood welled up immediately.

Carrie shoved Graham behind her, shielding him, and glared at me.

"Wilfred, what the hell? Didn't you see Graham standing there? What if you'd hurt him?"

She didn't see the blood pooling on my foot. Instead, she crouched down and carefully picked a speck of glass no bigger than a pea off Graham's shoe.

I had no interest in watching her dote on another man. I grabbed my suitcase and headed for the door.

She caught the suitcase in her peripheral vision and scrambled to her feet, grabbing my arm.

"Wilfred, where are you going?"

I was about to answer when her phone rang.

I saw the caller ID. Isabella.

She picked up, irritation bleeding through her voice.

"Fine! I know! It's not canceled! I'll smooth things over with him! Don't worry!"

She hung up and turned to me.

"Wilfred, my mom says the wedding has to go ahead tomorrow as planned."

"I don't want to upset her, so let's keep everything the way it is. But can you be the one who runs?"

"My mom adores you. If you're the runaway groom, she won't blame me. And I can explain it to her later, tell her I only got the license with Graham because I was upset."

My eyes went wide. I couldn't believe these words had come from the woman I'd loved for years.

But then I remembered—she was already Graham's wife.

And once I accepted that, nothing she said or did could surprise me anymore.

I was leaving anyway. Might as well grant her this one last thing.

"Fine."

Maybe it was how readily I agreed that finally snapped Carrie out of her tunnel vision.

She noticed, at last, that the shattered frame on the floor held our wedding portrait.

She noticed the blood smeared across the top of my foot.

Her eyes reddened instantly, and she rushed back into the bedroom to grab a first-aid kit.

The moment she was gone, Graham lifted his chin, his expression dripping with provocation.

"Wilfred, you really are pathetic. You knew I was already Carrie's husband, and you still tried to go through with a wedding?"

"So what if her mother doesn't like me? She can object all she wants. She still had to watch Carrie marry me."

"Tomorrow's ceremony? That'll be mine. And Carrie will only ever be my woman."

"You? You'll just be the homewrecker everyone spits on."

"And don't kid yourself into thinking she'll divorce me in three years and come running to you, because..."

He leaned in close, his grin insufferably smug.

"The baby in her belly is the product of our night together."

I dropped my gaze, hiding the tears that surged up without warning.

So it was true. Carrie had betrayed me.

And she'd treated me like a fool, stringing me along for another three years.

I did the math. The baby would have been conceived the night she never came home.

That was the first time she'd ever forgotten my birthday. She said she was out entertaining clients.

The next morning, she came back full of apologies.

And then she told me we should get married.

She said she wanted to give me a fairy-tale wedding.

I'd waited eight years to hear those words.

The joy was so overwhelming it crushed every doubt in my chest.

But that evening, she forgot to lock the bathroom door. When I walked in, I saw the scratches across her back.

Fresh scratches. I demanded to know what happened.

She answered without missing a beat—a cat had scratched her.

She even pulled up her rabies vaccination record as proof.

I forced myself to believe it.

But my gut told me something was wrong. Even while I was planning our wedding, none of it felt real.

A voice inside me kept whispering: The only reason she finally agreed to marry you is because she's trying to make up for what she did behind your back.

I buried my head in the sand. I didn't dare look for proof.

But I couldn't let it go, either. So I started following her in secret.

When I discovered that her so-called client meetings were actually visits to Graham's apartment, I stopped pushing. I waited for her to come clean on her own.

That was why I didn't press her when she skipped the rehearsal.

That was why I said nothing when she texted me about getting a marriage license with Graham.

"Excuse me."

I had no interest in wasting words on Graham. I just wanted to leave.

But the second Carrie stepped out of the bedroom with the first-aid kit, he grabbed my hand.

"Wilfred, I know you don't like me, but why did you push me?"

Carrie lunged forward, but her foot caught on something and her whole body pitched backward.

Instinct took over. I reached for her. But Graham lurched toward her as if I'd shoved him, slamming into Carrie with full force.

"My stomach... oh God, my stomach... it hurts..."

Carrie hit the floor flat on her back, her face twisted in agony.

Graham landed on top of her, clutching his groin and sucking air through his teeth.

I stood frozen, unable to comprehend why Graham would hurt Carrie.

Before I could get a single word out, he was already scrambling to his feet, his face a mask of panic and concern.

"Carrie, I'm so sorry! Don't be scared. I'm taking you to the hospital right now."

Gritting through the pain, he scooped her into his arms and bolted for the door.