Just two days before our engagement, my fiance, Theodore Scott, kneels to adjust the hem of my dress, his fingers suddenly brushing lightly against my ankle.

"Isabella, I've never seen you wear heels. You have such beautiful feet."

I adjust the waistline of my gown in the mirror and answer casually, "I'm not used to them. My legs hurt when I walk in heels."

"Just try them. High heels would look perfect with your mermaid dress."

His palm glides up along my leg, stopping at the back of my knee. He murmurs, "Red-bottom stilettos—each step would sway so gracefully, and the way they'd peek out when you walk… You'd look breathtaking in them."

I look up and catch his focused, burning gaze in the mirror. "Since when do you know about these things?"

Theodore Scott's smile froze, and his eyes quickly shifted away from me. "I saw it in a fashion magazine."

I didn't say anything.

He leaned closer, his fingers gently gripping my chin. "What's wrong? Don't you believe me?"

His fingertips were warm, but his eyes flickered for just a moment.

"Of course I do." I smiled and tapped his chest with my fingertip. "I just didn't expect the great lawyer to be researching this stuff."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "For you, I'd be willing to learn anything."

"I'll go get you some water." He turned and left the room, even forgetting to take his phone.

I hesitated for a moment, then entered the passcode and unlocked it. This was the first time I'd checked his phone in all these years, and the password was still my birthday—it hadn't changed.

The chat history, photos, and call logs were all clean. I let out a breath, laughing at myself for being paranoid. Yet, when my fingers hovered over the Instagram message search bar, I gave in and typed "red-bottom heels".

An unfamiliar account popped up with a blank profile picture, named "Celeste Starr". It showed as blocked and couldn't be re-followed.

Quietly, I memorized the account details and searched again with my own alternate account. A profile with a blurry side-face photo appeared, and I sent a follow request.

The other person quickly accepted and sent a message. "Are you a fan?"

My heart suddenly tightened, and a cold dread washed over me. "Yeah, I saw you in a magazine and got your contact through a friend."

She didn't seem to think much of it and quickly replied, "Thank you for following! Who was it? But no worries. Welcome!"

"It was Mr. Smith. You know him." I vaguely made up a name, my palms breaking out in a cold sweat.

The other person sent a cute emoji. "Oh, that makes sense! Thanks for the love."

After a few more casual exchanges, I opened her page. The latest posts were retouched selfies and event shots.

The lady in the photos had striking, bold features and an incredible figure. The backgrounds were mostly high-end restaurants, backstage at fashion shows, or gyms.

She was probably a model.

I kept scrolling down and stopped at a post from a week ago. She had posted a back-view photo, her pose lazy yet incredibly seductive.

She was on her tiptoes, showing off her heels with red soles. This was the only photo with a caption.

"Thanks for the gift, Mr. S."

She even added a few heart emojis.

Mr. S?

My chest tightened as if an invisible hand had gripped my heart. Suddenly, I felt suffocated.

I covered my mouth, afraid I might cry out loud. Even so, broken sobs still escaped from my throat.

Everything suddenly made sense.

The luxury receipt that had mysteriously appeared at home last week, his frequent late nights at the office, and even the hushed call on the balcony two nights ago. He had hung up the second he noticed me awake, claiming it was an urgent case from the firm.

So, that was it.

Ten years of love, and we were finally about to make it official. I didn't want to believe that Theodore, who loved and cherished me, would actually betray me.

However, a crystal-clear voice in my heart told me that my fiance had indeed fallen in love with another woman.

My hands shook so badly I could barely hold the phone.

Tears splashed onto the screen as I opened his text messages. It was a 12,800-dollar purchase record from a women's shoe store downtown.

It matched the receipt exactly.

Just then, footsteps approached from outside. I quickly locked the screen and put the phone back where it was.

"Sorry for the long wait." Theodore walked over, carrying a glass of warm water in one hand and an orange gift box in the other. His smile was gentle as he asked, "Guess what I've prepared for you?"

He opened the box, revealing the latest designer handbag that was nearly impossible to find in stores.

Theodore said, "It's an early engagement gift. Do you like it?"

If this had been before, I would've thrown myself into Theodore's arms and playfully scolded him for spending so much money. But now, I just felt how absurd it all was.

I replied numbly, "Yeah, it's beautiful."

He smiled and ruffled my hair. "I'll give you another gift at the wedding—something even better and more beautiful than this. You can look forward to it now."

I stared at him blankly, my heart aching unbearably. How wonderful it would be if everything I'd just discovered were fake.

...

The next day, I stood in the security room of the women's shoe store, my nails digging deep into my palms. On the screen, Theodore had his arm around Celeste's waist, leaning down to listen to her whisper.

He took the high heels she was trying on and knelt on one knee to put them on her feet. The sales associate introduced the shoes attentively while he casually took her purse and waited quietly. After buying the shoes, she stood on her tiptoes and spun in a circle, her skirt fluttering.

Theodore reached out to steady her, his gaze burning and focused.

I stared at the surveillance timestamp. That day, I'd worked in the lab until dawn, rushing to finish a project so that I could take time off for our wedding. He had texted me saying he was working late and sent a photo of a coffee cup from the law firm.

So, he had lied to me.

The sales associate whispered gossip, "This gentleman is our regular. Every time he comes, he always spends a long time shopping with that lady."

"Do you have this style in stock?" I asked, my voice chillingly calm.

The sales associate was caught off guard. "Yes, but the price..."

"Wrap them all up." I swiped my card and left with six boxes in hand.

When I got home, Theodore was in the kitchen making soup. "You're back!"

He came out of the kitchen, and his gaze fell on the pile of gift boxes by my feet. His smile instantly froze.

"What's all this?" His voice was somewhat tight.

I slowly unwrapped one of the boxes and took out those red-bottom high heels. Then, I waved them at him and said, "Pretty, aren't they? The sales associate said this is the most popular style."

His face went pale. "Why did you suddenly buy so many?"

I smiled. "Suddenly? Weren't you the one who suggested I wear them?"

He opened his mouth as if to say something but finally just lowered his head to avoid my gaze. His fingers unconsciously rubbed the edge of his soup bowl.

The silence thickened in the room.

I stood up and grabbed my jacket. "Something urgent came up at the lab. I need to go."

"Now?" He jerked his head up, panic in his eyes. "Tomorrow is our engagement party."

My tone was calm as I turned and left the house. "There's a problem with the data. I'll be pulling an all-nighter. Don't wait up."

I turned the car key, stepped on the gas, and headed to the location from Celeste's Instagram story posted 30 minutes ago. There was a boutique brand show that night.

The show lights dimmed, and the final round of applause rang out.

I stood in the corner, watching Celeste being escorted off stage, surrounded by people. She was more stunning than in photos, with auburn curls that bounced with each step. Her figure moved with effortless grace, and her eyes were truly captivating.

After the show ended, I heard the backstage staff whispering among themselves.

"Celeste seemed off today. She almost twisted her ankle during the walk."

"I heard she's been having relationship problems lately…"

I followed her up to the rooftop. In the night breeze, she leaned against the railing smoking, the cigarette's tip glowing red in the darkness.

"Ms. Starr?" I approached nervously, pretending to be starstruck. "Could I get a photo with you? I've been following you for so long."

She gave me a lazy glance, surprised. "Are you a fan?"

Then, she waved her hand. "Sure!"

After taking the photo, I looked at her. "Are you upset about something?"

Her eyes dimmed as she looked down and crushed out her cigarette. "Forget it. No one's meeting me tonight anyway, so we might as well chat… You know what? I thought he would come tonight. Men are all trash."

She tilted her head back and took a swig of alcohol. Then, she began to confide, "I met him after a show. He gave me a bouquet of white roses and said he was drawn to my energy."

"What happened after that?"

"After that?" She smirked playfully. "The second time, he took me to a private vineyard. When I got tipsy, he kissed me and said he'd never met a woman as sexy as me."

My stomach dropped. I remembered that Theodore didn't come home at all that night. He had told me he was pulling an all-nighter at the law firm, preparing a case.

Celeste said, "Not long after, he posted an engagement ring with another woman on his Instagram. I know he has a fiancee. He told me she's as sweet as a little bunny, but she's quite boring—spending all day in the lab.

"We were just using each other. I needed his resources to climb higher. I've seen plenty of two-faced men like him. When his fiancee isn't around, he boldly invites me to his place. We had sex for the first time in their marital home."

She continued, "He acted all innocent afterward, saying he regretted it and that we shouldn't meet again. But every time I sent a message, he came anyway.

"He went completely wild whenever he was with me, never using protection. Yet, he still mumbled about not betraying his fiancee. The moment I wrap my arms around his neck, he forgets everything.

"Lately, he pretends to be devoted, saying he has to take responsibility for his fiancee, but he can't cut me off either. Pathetic. Oh, and these shoes? He bought them for me. He said I look especially hot in them."

Just then, Celeste's phone buzzed. She glanced at the message and quickly wiped her eyes. Her bright smile returned as she said, "Alright, little fan. See you next time."

I stood in the shadows at the corner of the rooftop, watching her throw herself into a familiar embrace.

Theodore wore the dark gray coat I had given him, and a bouquet of white roses was on his car hood. He seemed so tender—yet like a stranger.

I raised my phone, the camera trembling slightly.

He held her waist and kissed her passionately, reluctant to let go.

In that moment, my heart felt like it had been ripped to shreds, the pain so sharp I doubled over. Before I knew it, tears fell uncontrollably as my whole body shook. I bit down hard on the back of my hand, swallowing my sobs.

When the pain dulled, only exhaustion remained. They had long since left, and I collapsed on the ground, staring at the moon in a daze.

Tomorrow was our engagement party—the day we had looked forward to for so long. But after ten years of love, I was only now truly seeing my lover for who he really was.

What about my parents? How would I explain this?

I deeply resented my own carelessness, having wasted ten years of my life.

Suddenly, my phone chimed with a new notification. Without hesitation, I typed my name into the list.

I struggled to my feet and stumbled away.

...

When I pushed open the door, the hallway light was still on. A sticky note on the refrigerator read, "Urgent case at the firm. I won't be home tonight. I'll definitely be there on time tomorrow. Love you."

The words seemed to mock my stupidity.

What a liar.

I tore the sticky note off violently and shredded it into pieces.

Walking into the bedroom, I found a thick stack of yellowed love letters. He used to slip one into my textbook every day in college. There were photo albums filled with our travel pictures, where he always loved to hug me from behind, resting his chin on my head with a silly grin.

Deep in the closet hung the shirt he wore on our first date, with my initials embroidered on the cuff. Then there was that scarf I had stayed up nights knitting for him.

I gathered them all up and threw them into the bathtub before lighting a match. The flames roared to life, consuming everything that bore traces of Theodore Scott and Isabella Jenkins' past.

Finally, there was our bed. He had carefully chosen it in my favorite color, but now, it just made me sick.

I took out scissors and cut it all into pieces. After that, I grabbed a hammer and destroyed every other item in the house that held memories of him.

Everything I had once treasured was now in ruins.

I sat among the wreckage, watching the sky lighten outside the window.

Before long, the sound of keys turning in the lock echoed through the house. Theodore pushed open the door with a smile that quickly crumbled.

"Isabella, have you lost your mind? Do you know what day this is? You've destroyed our home like this! Go put on your dress right now. There's still time!"

I shook off his hand. "The engagement is off."

"Stop fooling around. All the guests have been notified, and our parents are already at the venue."

I threw those red-bottom high heels at his feet and raised the hammer, smashing it down hard on the heel. The moment the heel snapped, he staggered back as if struck in a vital spot.

I asked, "What's wrong? Remembering someone? Was it the way you knelt to put them on her or the taste of last night's kiss?"