After years of holding on to a long-distance relationship, Liam Foster finally promised me the wedding of my dreams. Preparing to focus on the significant turn of my life, I left my career, packed my life into a suitcase, and came home early to surprise him, imagining the look on his face when he saw me.

But what I found instead shattered my world. Hidden in his drawer were 1,825 love letters—all addressed to someone else.

Seething with betrayal, I raced to his office, ready to confront him. But as I was about to enter, I heard the voices of my boyfriend and his first love, Snow Parker.

"Snow, now that you're back, of course, I'll ditch her and marry you," Liam murmured, his voice sickeningly sweet.

"Oh, Liam, you're so bad! Stringing Peyton along like a clueless fool," Snow teased, her voice dripping with mockery.

I felt the bile rise in my throat. At that moment, I knew I was done. I turned my back on Liam, the wedding, and every broken promise he made.

By the time he realized I was gone for good, it was too late. His regret? Too little, too late.

——

I stood frozen, staring at the drawer, my fingers trembling as I counted each letter—1,825 in total. One for every day of our five-year relationship. But none of them were written for me. Not a single one.

It felt as if my heart had been ripped apart, piece by piece, as I realized that for five years, Liam had been loving someone else. My tears fell, soaking the love letters I was never meant to receive.

I couldn't let this betrayal go unanswered. My hands shook as I hailed a cab to his office, my mind racing with everything I would say to him.

When I reached the general manager’s office, I paused. Muffled voices seeped through the door, and I pressed my ear against it.

"Snow, now that you're back, of course, I'll ditch her and marry you," Liam murmured, his voice sickeningly sweet.

I felt my breath catch. Then Snow's laughter, sweet and cruel, cut through the air.

"Oh, Liam, you're so bad! Stringing Peyton along like a clueless fool," she teased, her voice dripping with mockery.

Hearing the continuous moans inside, I couldn’t breathe properly and my mind flashed back to his promises.

"Peyton, in five years, I’ll give you the grandest wedding and make you the happiest woman in the world."

Five years of waiting, enduring the isolation of the desert, where I worked tirelessly. His promise had been my anchor through those long, lonely nights. And each time I missed him, I folded a paper crane—a token of my devotion.

In those years, I had folded a total of 1,825 paper cranes. Each one was made with hope, with love, with faith that our future would be as bright as his words.

Now, as I clutched the heart-shaped box filled with those cranes, I realized how foolish I had been. My tears fell freely, soaking the delicate paper birds. At that moment, I knew—I had to let go.

With a single, resolute motion, I tossed the box into the trash. It wasn’t just paper cranes I was discarding. It was the five years of my life I had wasted, longing for a man who never truly loved me.

Inside the office, the sounds of panting and moans continued, and I heard Snow Parker whisper, "Aren't you going to tell her? What if she comes back and catches us? She’ll kill me!"

Liam’s response was laced with smugness. "Tell her what? I actually want her to see it with her own eyes when I marry you. That’ll be the final slap in her face."

As their despicable laughter echoed in my ears, I felt the bile rising in my throat. My lips were raw from biting back the rage. I fought the overwhelming urge to storm in and tear them apart.

Instead, I walked away. Each step was heavy, but with it came clarity. I wasn’t the fool anymore.

Outside, I took a deep breath and called my company’s president.

"Mr. Webb, I’ve changed my mind. I’m not resigning. I’ll accept the branch manager role."

"Miss Lewis, that's wonderful! I knew it. No one would give up their career for love."

The word "love" cut through me, and fresh tears spilled. Before I lost my composure, I ended the call, my resolve hardening.

I thought back to all the phone calls I’d made to Liam, day after day, telling him how much I missed him. And each time, his voice would be laced with irritation.

"What’s the point of saying you miss me over the phone? Just cut it out."

I had told him about the paper cranes I folded for him, symbols of my love, but he had only mocked me, saying, "That's so childish! Who has time for that?"

There was also a time I had once asked him to write me a love letter as I craved the charm of words on paper. But he just snapped at me, his voice cold and dismissive, "Who even does that anymore? Let's just do a call, a text, or anything digital—it's faster. I don't have time for silly things like letters." His words stung, and I let them, swallowing the disappointment as I told myself maybe it was too much to ask.

But now I know the truth—he did have time. Every single day for five years, he had painstakingly written 1,825 letters, each one meant for someone else. Not for me. For her.

The letters, packed into a drawer I never knew existed, were overflowing, bursting with words I had once believed he didn't have for anyone. Words of longing, devotion, memories and promises. Had he planned to surprise her with them? Was she, like me, far away, isolated by distance and circumstance? I couldn’t help but wonder if she too was waiting, just as I had waited.

Had she spent sleepless nights, stuck in some remote place like me, unable to return home due to the impossible logistics of distance and work? Or had he, with that same tenderness, called her every day, speaking the same words of love I had foolishly thought were meant only for me?

The drawer, those letters—they were a cruel reminder that while I had been asking for scraps of affection, he had been saving the best of himself for someone else.

It became painfully clear to me now—my five years of devotion meant nothing compared to her.

Just days ago, I had excitedly told my colleagues I was resigning to return home for my grand wedding. Some had smiled, while others warned me to never sacrifice my career for love. At the time, I had laughed them off. I believed Liam's love would make up for everything.

Now, I realize how naive I had been. They were right. Nothing lasts forever, and some things are worth letting go.

At that moment, I understood what it meant to grow up. Walking away from what doesn’t deserve you is a strength of its own.

After leaving Liam’s office, I returned to the home I’d abandoned for five long years. The moment I stepped inside, it felt like time had stood still. The air was stale, thick with dust, and the walls echoed with memories of my parents. Since their passing, this place had become just another relic of my past—empty, forgotten. But now, it was all I had left.

I grabbed a cloth and began wiping away the layers of neglect. As I worked, the silence was interrupted by a shrill ring. Liam. His name flashed on my phone screen, and for a moment, I stared at it, my heart heavy with the weight of betrayal.

When I answered, his voice was laced with faux concern.

“Peyton, I just called your research base. They said you’ve already returned to New York?”

In the desert, once I left the base, there was no signal. Communication was scarce, and we were often worlds apart—me, gathering samples and observations, and him… well, apparently writing love letters to someone else.

“Yes, I just got back today,” I replied, my tone sharper than I intended.

There was a pause, his hesitation obvious. “Why didn’t you tell me in advance? Uh… you haven’t gone to our future house yet, right?”

There it was—the nervousness in his voice, the unspoken fear that I had found his secret. But I had already seen everything. His betrayal was written in each of those 1,825 love letters.

“I’m at my own house, cleaning. What is it about?" I asked flatly.

The silence stretched as he realized something was off.

“Well, I miss you. We haven’t seen each other in five years, Peyton,” he said, his voice suddenly softening. “Wait for me there, I'll come over."

Before I could respond, the line went dead.

Twenty minutes later, I heard a knock on my door. When I opened it, my face was a blank slate. No joy. No relief. Just emptiness. I turned and went back to cleaning, not sparing Liam a second glance.

Liam’s brow furrowed as he stepped inside, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. His hands gripped my shoulders, his touch once familiar but now foreign.

“Didn’t you always say you missed me?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion. “What’s wrong now?”

I met his gaze, my voice ice cold. “Snow has returned, hasn’t she?”

The name left my lips like poison. His entire body stiffened, eyes darting as though searching for an escape.

"You... you know?" His words faltered, guilt flashing across his face. "Yes, she's back. She's been away on an offshore drilling platform for five years... but Peyton, it's been five years. I’ve missed you—don’t you miss me?” He leaned in, his hands beginning to wander as if he could erase the truth with one kiss.

Once, I would have melted at his touch, unable to resist him. But now, all I could see were those letters—thousands of them, each one confessing love, passion, longing, but none for me. My stomach twisted in disgust.

With every ounce of strength I had, I shoved him away. “Get away from me, Liam!”

He stumbled back, his breathing heavy as he stared at me in shock.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as if he genuinely couldn’t understand.

“What’s wrong?” I repeated, my voice shaking with anger. “Can’t Snow satisfy you?”

His face went pale. “Peyton, what are you talking about? Why would you even—”

Before he could finish, his phone buzzed on the table between us. The screen lit up with the name "Snow".

I laughed, the sound bitter in my throat. "Go on," I said, gesturing to the phone. "Your little sweetheart is waiting."

Liam froze, his eyes darting from me to the phone. The seconds dragged as he debated whether to answer, but in the end, he swiped to take the call. Without a word, he walked onto the balcony, his voice low as he spoke to her.

I watched from the doorway, my heart a twisted wreckage of what it once was. It was like witnessing the final collapse of everything I’d ever believed in.

A few minutes later, Liam rushed back inside, his expression tense. "I have something urgent to deal with," he muttered, barely looking at me. "I'll be back tonight."

Watching Liam leave in such a rush, the hollow ache in my chest deepened, dragging me down like a stone sinking to the bottom of a well. I tried to distract myself and scrubbed the wardrobe with shaky hands and tears in my eyes instead.

I don’t know how long I did that, lost in the motion, until I realized I had scrubbed so hard that the paint had peeled away, revealing raw wood beneath. My hands trembled as I dropped the rag, staring at the damage, much like the damage Liam had inflicted on me—irreparable, painful, and bare.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t understand his obsession with Snow. Why her? She had rejected him, abandoned him years ago. Yet, here I was, the woman who had been by his side all these years, only to find out I was nothing more than a placeholder in his life. A stand-in for a woman who had left him behind.

I knew pieces of their past—how they had grown up together, neighbors who shared the same playgrounds and dreams. They had even gone to the same university. The rift between them formed after graduation, when life demanded choices. Snow had been enchanted by the sea, insisting on working abroad, chasing her dream of scientific research on an offshore platform. She had invited Liam to go with her, but he had refused, citing his responsibility as an only child to stay near his parents.

That’s when their story ended, or so I thought.

Back then, I was nothing more than the quiet girl in the background, watching him from afar, my heart aching with a secret love for four long years. When I heard about their breakup, I gathered every ounce of courage I had to confess to him, convinced that his rejection would at least give me closure before we all went our separate ways after graduation.

But he surprised me. He accepted.

It was like a dream—the man I had loved from the shadows was now mine. Except it wasn’t quite the fairy tale I imagined. Like Snow, I chose a career far from home. I worked in the harsh, unrelenting desert, collecting research data that would help solve real-world problems. I had naively asked Liam to come with me, to build a life together in the sand instead of by the sea. But like his response to Snow, he also refused me. The only difference was, he didn’t leave me. Instead, he promised me the impossible—a long-distance relationship. He said he’d wait for me, that he’d marry me when I returned after five years.

Five years of scorching days and freezing nights. Five years of clinging to his promises like lifelines. And for what? To discover that I had been living in the shadow of another woman’s ghost all along.

I wiped my tears and suddenly remembered there were still a few of my personal belongings at our so-called "future home." I had every right to retrieve them, no matter how much it hurt to step into that place.

When I arrived, I didn’t expect to hear laughter filtering through the ajar door. Something about the sound sent a chill down my spine. Slowly, I pushed the door open, and there they were—Liam and Snow, tangled together on the sofa, surrounded by the love letters he had written to her.

My stomach churned with nausea.

Snow’s voice was like venom in the air. “What do you think Peyton’s reaction would be if she saw these letters? I bet it’d be priceless,” she said with a wicked smirk, her head resting comfortably against his chest.

Liam chuckled, running his hand through her hair. “She can’t find them. If she does, there’s no way she’ll marry me. Then how are we supposed to pull off our plan of replacing her with you at the wedding? Humiliating her in front of everyone?”

Their laughter stabbed through me, sharp and jagged.

Snow stretched, her eyes narrowing as she glanced around the room. “Soon this whole house will be ours. Ugh, we need to throw all of Peyton’s things out. Just knowing they’re here makes my skin crawl.”

I couldn’t take it any longer.

“No need,” I said, my voice cold and steady as I stepped fully into the room. “I’ll throw them out myself.”

When I pushed the door open, they both scrambled up from the sofa like guilty children caught stealing cookies.

Liam couldn’t even meet my eyes, his voice stiff and unnatural. "Peyton... Why are you here? Don’t take it seriously—Snow and I were just joking around. She mentioned throwing out some things we don’t need, and she offered to help."

"Yes, Peyton," Snow chimed in, her smile so sweet it made my stomach turn. "I was just trying to tidy up a bit. Don’t overthink it, really."

Their lies hung in the air, pathetic and desperate. I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I began packing my things, my movements methodical and calm. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Liam’s frantic attempts to stuff the love letters he wrote to Snow under the sofa cushions, as if he could hide the truth so easily.

When I finally zipped up the last bag, Liam stared at me, confusion and alarm etched on his face.

"Peyton... Are you packing up or moving out?"

I met his gaze, my voice eerily steady. "My things are old, right? You want to replace them, don’t you?"

He stammered, his facade starting to crack. "No, it’s not about replacing you! I just... I mean, stay. Don’t do anything hasty."

I didn’t dignify his pleas with a response. I reached for my bag, ready to walk out of this nightmare. But Snow, all too eager to play the innocent friend, caught my arm.

"Peyton, come on," she cooed, her voice dripping with false warmth. "We were university classmates once, and now we’re practically friends. It’s been five years since we last saw each other, and you're about to marry Liam! Why don’t we have dinner together? I’ll cook. I promise, my cooking’s amazing."

Liam, ever the coward, jumped in to support her. "Yeah, Peyton. I planned to have dinner with you tonight anyway. Now that you're here, let's all eat together."

The thought of Snow parading around like the hostess of my own home twisted the knife in my chest. I wanted to shake her off and leave, but something stopped me. Maybe it was the realization that, since all three of us were here, it was time to settle things once and for all.

Snow, with infuriating confidence, slipped on my apron and strutted into my kitchen, calling over her shoulder for Liam to help as if she owned the place. "Liam, peel two cloves of garlic for me. Stop standing around! Oh, and pass me the soy sauce!"

And there I was—reduced to a guest in what was supposed to be my home. I sat in the living room, feeling the weight of betrayal settle deeper into my bones.

It didn’t take long for Snow to whip up a meal, and when she set the table with four dishes and a soup, Liam immediately reached for a braised shrimp. Snow slapped his hand away, laughing as if they were sharing some private joke. "You’re not a child, Liam! Go wash your hands first!"

Liam obeyed, scurrying off to the bathroom, while Snow shot me a bright smile. "Peyton, dig in! Don’t be shy—make yourself at home!"

I looked at her, my voice laced with icy sarcasm. "Isn’t this my home?"

She froze, her smile faltering for just a second before she forced out a laugh. "Oh right! My bad, I’ve been away at sea for too long—must’ve fried my brain. Let’s eat, no need to wait for him."

She acted so casually, as if she belonged here more than I did.

When Liam returned, he peeled a shrimp, ready to hand it to Snow like some doting boyfriend. Only when he caught sight of me sitting there did he pause awkwardly and try to pass the shrimp my way instead.

"Peyton... Don’t take it the wrong way. Snow and I grew up together, so some habits die hard. I didn’t mean to ignore you."

I pushed the plate back toward him, my patience fraying. "I’m allergic to seafood, Liam. I told you that before."

His face flushed with embarrassment. "Oh... right. I must’ve forgotten. Sorry."

Snow, unfazed, popped open a bottle of red wine and filled the glasses. They drank with abandon, laughing and chatting, oblivious to the storm brewing in me.

As the evening deepened and the wine flowed, the world around us blurred into a comfortable haze. I vaguely registered Liam's voice through the fog of intoxication. "Peyton," he murmured, his tone casual, "let Snow stay the night. It's late, and we've all had too much to drink." His words slipped into the background, and I, too tired to argue, let him guide me to the master bedroom.

The bed welcomed me like a cloud, and I sank into sleep without a second thought. Hours later, I awoke to a throbbing headache, my mouth dry, my mind sluggish. I reached out instinctively for Liam, but the sheets beside me were cold. He wasn’t there.

A jolt of unease pierced through the fog of my headache. Groggily, I slid out of bed, moving as quietly as I could, my pulse quickening with each step. Something wasn’t right.

It didn’t take long before I heard impatient voices coming from the guest bedroom.

"Hurry up, Liam! She’s out cold. No way she’s waking up..."

My blood ran cold.

"Heh, I’m coming, sweetheart. Watch how I take care of you," Liam replied, his voice low and eager.

A wave of nausea hit me, my hands trembling as I pulled out my phone and pressed record. I inched closer to the door, watching through the crack as they entwined, giggling like a pair of teenagers sneaking around.

They carried on for what felt like an eternity, their passion a stark contrast to the cold indifference I’d always received.

Back in the master bedroom, I lay awake, my mind racing. They thought they could humiliate me, replace me at the altar like I was nothing. But I wouldn’t go quietly.

If they wanted a spectacle, I’d give them one. I was done being the naive, loyal fiancée.

That wedding would be unforgettable—but for all the wrong reasons.