Emma's POV

I stumbled out of the bathroom, everything around me blurring as I tried to steady myself. Leaning against the wall for support, I slowly made my way to the living room and collapsed onto the couch.

Jason, however, was still in the other room, trying to comfort Ava as if nothing had happened. "Hey, hey, Ava, stop crying," he said gently. "It’s all Emma’s fault. Let’s just forget about her."

"Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’re going to the amusement park," he added, his tone soft and reassuring.

I felt my energy draining, both physically and emotionally. I didn’t want to fight anymore.

I was just... so tired.

From the room, Ava’s delicate voice floated toward me. "Jason, I’m a bit hungry..."

Jason’s reply was gentle. "What do you want to eat? I’ll make it for you."

I couldn’t take it anymore.

Grabbing my bag, I stormed out of the door, the night air cooled against my face, but it couldn’t shake the chill in my heart.

...

Memories flooded my mind, crashing over me like a tidal wave. The sweet past now felt like sharp knives, stabbing me repeatedly in the chest.

Jason had always struggled with his stomach. Because he couldn’t cook, I took it upon myself to care for him—making fresh meals for him three times a day. His stomach couldn’t handle spicy food, so I gave it up, even though I loved chili.

He liked fish, so I bought the freshest catch every day, even though I was allergic to the smell.

I treated him like a mother would, making sure every little detail was perfect. But now, looking back, I see how foolish I was.

He could cook. He knew how.

But he pretended to be helpless, using me like a free maid, taking my care for granted.

I opened our chat history—seven years’ worth of messages.

They used to sparkle with the happiness and sweetness of our love. But now, all they did was leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

I scrolled to a conversation from a month ago.

[Emma, I’m working overtime tonight. Can’t have dinner with you.]

[Emma, I’ve got a client tonight. Can’t go to the movies.]

[Emma, I’m busy tonight...]

A string of "can’ts," each one landing like a slap to my face, harsh and unrelenting.

I kept scrolling, backtracking to two months ago.

[Jason, you’ve been working overtime a lot lately. You need to take care of yourself.]

[I know, Emma. You’re so good.]

[Don’t overwork yourself. Come back early.]

[Okay, I will.]

I continued scrolling—three months ago, four months ago.

The contrast between my care and his indifference was so stark it almost hurt. And then, it hit me: six months ago, Jason had started pulling away.

He’d been working late, and going on business trips more often. Back then, I was naïve enough to think it was all for us—that he was working hard for our future. I understood, I sympathized.

But little did I know, all that 'hard work' was just him sneaking around with Ava.

I kept scrolling, reaching messages from a year ago.

[Jason, I saw Ava today... she seems to have feelings for you...]

[Don’t overthink it. She’s just a friend.]

[But...]

[Emma, trust me.]

At the time, I truly believed him. I thought I was just being paranoid, imagining things. Now, I realized how wrong I had been. I had been so blind.

I squeezed my eyes shut, and took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. When I opened them again, the sadness in my eyes had been replaced by a calm determination.

My phone vibrated.

Right there, Jason’s name flashed on the screen.

[Emma, I’m sorry. I was wrong earlier. I shouldn’t have hit you. Please don’t be mad. Come back... it’s cold outside.]

His message stung, but I couldn’t help but feel a cold resolve setting in.

Emma's POV

I scoffed and quickly typed a reply: [No need, I’m staying at a hotel tonight.]

It didn’t take long for Jason to respond.

[Emma, don’t make a scene. What hotel are you staying at so late? Be a good girl and come back.]

I paused for a moment, but with all the resolve I had left, I typed: [Jason, let’s break up.]

The wedding was just a month away. Invitations had already gone out, the photos had already been taken, the banquet had been booked, and everything was set. I was just waiting to become a bride.

Now, it all felt like a cruel joke.

Out of nowhere, a black Maybach pulled up in front of me. The window slowly rolled down, revealing a familiar face.

It was Chase.

He quickly stepped out, his face etched with concern. "Emma, are you okay? That jerk Jason, how could he hit you?"

As he spoke, he removed his coat and draped it over my shoulders.

The faint scent of his cologne—something unfamiliar but comforting—brought a small amount of peace to my shattered heart.

"I... I’m planning to break off my engagement with Jason," I said, my voice a little shaky but firm.

Chase stopped in his tracks for a brief moment, a flicker of surprise passing over his face before it quickly settled into a calm, concerned expression.

He then asked, "Emma, are you really sure? This isn’t something small."

Taking a deep breath, I answered with more conviction than I felt, "I’m sure. I don’t want to be lied to anymore, and I can’t keep wasting my time."

...

The next morning, I called the wedding planner and canceled everything—everything. I also informed all the guests.

Emily, the wedding planner, nearly cried when I told her over the phone. She went on about penalties, losses, and how "absurd" it was that I was backing out at the last minute.

I cut her off, coldly giving her Jason’s card number and telling her to deduct whatever was needed.

Once I hung up, the world around me felt quieter, like the pressure had finally let up.

Next came the dreaded task of notifying the guests. I created a group chat, added everyone, and typed:

[To my friends and family, I just wanted to let you know that Jason and I have called off the wedding. Sorry if this causes any inconvenience. Thanks for understanding.]

I set the group to [Do Not Disturb] and watched the notifications light up my phone screen, but I didn’t care.

I didn’t even flinch.

I knew what people would think. Most would assume I’d lost my mind. One month away from the wedding, and I was canceling it like it was nothing. Yeah, madness seemed about right.

Sure enough, Jason called, exactly as I expected. But instead of feeling even an ounce of guilt, it only fueled my anger.

I answered the phone with a bitter laugh. "What is it, Jason?"

He sighed. "Emma, can we... talk? I know you're really angry, but some things can’t be explained over the phone. Can we meet? Same place, the hotpot restaurant we used to go to?"

I hesitated, but deep down, I knew I needed closure. I agreed.

...

Later that evening, I put on delicate makeup, slipped into a bright red dress, and wore heels that clicked confidently as I walked.

I arrived at the entrance of the hotpot restaurant, and there he was—Jason, already seated at the table.

At first, I thought it was just him, but then, to my shock, I saw Ava walking out of the bathroom, looking like she owned the place.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice laced with disbelief.

Ava was practically glued to Jason’s arm, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Jason said he wanted to bring me here for his favorite hotpot. You know this place, don’t you, Emma?"

I couldn’t help but scoff. "Yeah, I’m very familiar with it. After all, Jason and I came here countless times. Unlike some people who probably don’t even know what the signature dish is."

Ava’s smile faltered for a split second, but she quickly recovered, tightening her grip on Jason’s arm as if to stake her claim.

Emma's POV

"Jason, let's go inside. I’m starving," I said, trying to keep my tone light.

Jason glanced between me and Ava, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. But after a beat, he followed Ava inside without another word. I took a deep breath, mentally telling myself to stay calm, and followed them.

We sat at a table together, and the tension in the air was thick. Jason suddenly started serving me food, most of it being dishes I used to love. But now, looking at them, I felt nothing but disgust.

"Emma, try this. It's your favorite shrimp paste," he said, trying to sound cheerful.

He smiled at me like he was trying to please me, but I could see a smug little glint in his eyes. I scoffed and pushed the shrimp paste aside.

"I don’t like it anymore," I snapped.

Ava, always ready to insert herself into the drama, sweetly interrupted, "Jason, I love it. Serve it to me."

Without hesitation, Jason loaded her plate with a generous portion of shrimp paste. Ava took a bite, savoring it while throwing me a look full of challenges.

"Jason, you really brought me out just to watch you two act all lovey-dovey?" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jason finally set down his chopsticks, his patience wearing thin. "Emma, can’t you be a little more understanding? How can you just cancel the wedding like this? Do you know the losses this will cause?"

I raised an eyebrow, my gaze sharp. "Jason, are you worried about money, or are you more concerned about your pathetic little pride?"

His face tightened, and his eyes darted away from mine, unable to meet my gaze.

But Ava, ever the instigator, jumped in, adding more fuel to the fire. "Emma, Jason’s just trying to look out for you. This wedding’s been in the works for so long. Canceling it now? It’ll wreck your reputation."

I laughed, the sound harsh. "My reputation? Do you really think I need you to worry about that? But you, on the other hand, a mistress climbing the ranks and destroying someone else’s relationship—don’t you fear retribution?"

Before Ava could respond, a small child came barreling out of nowhere, running full speed, and collided with a waiter carrying a hot pot. The waiter lost his balance, and in an instant, the boiling soup tipped over, spilling straight toward us.

I barely had time to react when the searing heat blasted into my face.

But in the blink of an eye, Jason pulled Ava close, shielding her with his body.

"Ava, are you okay? Did you get burned?" he asked frantically, holding her protectively.

Meanwhile, I was left standing there, the hot soup splashing onto my arm. The pain hit me like a jolt of electricity.

"Ahh—" I cried out as the sharp burn quickly swelled my skin, turning it red.

The waiter, now pale as a ghost, frantically apologized, bowing over and over.

The surrounding diners began to murmur, their eyes darting to Jason and Ava.

"This guy’s really something, huh? Protecting his girlfriend like that," one of the onlookers said.

"Yeah, now that’s true love," the other one agreed.

Their whispers stung, and I felt my emotions spiraling out of control. I suddenly remembered how Jason used to do the same for me—always leaving the best for me, always making sure I was protected.

But now, he was shielding Ava.

Ava finally lifted her head from Jason’s chest, a concerned look on her face. "Jason, are you okay? Where did you get burned? Let me see!"

That was it. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. My stomach turned, and I just needed to get out of there, away from this hellish scene.

I stood up abruptly, knocking my chair over with a loud crash. The diners around us stared, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was to escape.

Only then did Jason finally notice my arm had been burned.

But instead of concern for me, he snapped, his attention shifting to the waiter and the child.

"Hey! What’s wrong with you?!" he yelled, his voice filled with fury. "Watch where you're going!"

I couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t even worried about me.