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?"