The sender's profile picture was eerily similar to Denver’s—almost like a matching set for couples.

“I heard Denver found himself a knockoff version of me. That must be you, right? I can’t wait to see your expression tomorrow when you finally meet me,” read the malicious message, each word sinking into my chest like nails.

I didn’t reply.

Instead, I turned to my supervisor with unwavering determination. “I’m calling off the wedding. My career comes first. He’s not worth sacrificing everything I’ve worked so hard for.”

My supervisor nodded, a knowing smile on her face. “That’s the Foley I know. You were never the type to revolve your life around a man. I’ll send you the contract tomorrow—be ready to leave in five days!”

Her words brought a mix of emotions swirling inside me.

There was a time when I was willing to stay put, to build a life around Denver. But now, he had trampled on my love, my heart. If that’s how it was, I wouldn’t look back either.

When I returned to the private room, Denver had sobered up a bit and everyone else was preparing to head home.

Denver instinctively reached for my hand, but as his fingers touched my cold skin, he frowned. Without a word, he poured me a cup of warm water.

“Your hands are freezing. Why didn’t you wear something warmer? You’re old enough to take better care of yourself.”

“I forgot. I was going to get you some hangover medicine, but none of the stores nearby were open.”

As usual, the people around us joked about how close Denver and I were. But this time, their laughter was tinged with mockery. On the way home, silence hung between Denver and me.

He seemed in a great mood, constantly checking his phone, his face lighting up with a smile I’d never seen before. I went to bed with a heavy heart, tossing and turning all night. When I finally fell asleep, I was jolted awake at dawn by Denver.

“Get to the market early and buy some fresh groceries. We’ve got important guests coming over today.”

The sudden wake-up call gave me a pounding headache.

Denver didn’t notice my discomfort; he was too busy adjusting his tie in the mirror. Then he left without a second glance, only tossing a parting comment over his shoulder. “Make sure the house is spotless,” he called out as he walked out the door. “Oh and no spicy food.”

Watching his retreating figure, I chuckled bitterly.

For years, Denver would patiently pick out the chili peppers from our meals. To avoid wasting his efforts, I—a Northerner who grew up loving spicy food—forced myself to adapt to his taste. Now, I realized that even this small habit of his stemmed from Sabrina. Rising from the bed, I crossed out the “wedding photoshoot” from our shared calendar and replaced it with a countdown to my departure. Then, I began packing.

Opening the wardrobe, I saw the gifts Denver had showered on me—brand-new Hermès bags, an array of chic pastel dresses and plush toys. The saccharine pinks stood in stark contrast to my usual monochrome aesthetic.

Pausing, I reopened Sabrina’s social media account. Sure enough, every single item Denver had given me matched something she owned.

Scrolling through her posts, Denver’s figure appeared repeatedly—in photos of them strolling under the Eiffel Tower, basking on Maldivian beaches.

My birthday. Our anniversary. Valentine’s Day.

At her slightest beck and call, Denver would hop on a plane, flying across continents to be by her side.

“This is what you called urgent matter at work, huh?” I whispered, swallowing the bitter lump in my throat.

I fought back tears, gathering everything Denver had ever given me—along with the wedding supplies we had just bought—and tossed it all into the trash.

By the time I was done, the sun was high in the sky.

Six years of love seemed to drain away with my tears. On my final trip to take out the trash, I saw Sabrina step out of Denver’s car. She wore a thin pink dress and as soon as she got out, Denver shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“The wind is strong—don’t catch a cold,” he said gently.

“Well, as long as I have you, I’ll never feel cold, no matter the weather,” Sabrina replied with a laugh, slipping her hands around Denver’s neck.

Instead of being annoyed, he smiled, pulling her closer as if she were his entire world.

I was reminded of the early days of our relationship, when I’d playfully teased Denver like that. Back then, he would shove me away, saying he had a thing about personal space. 

I chalked it up to him being a serious doctor, someone who’d naturally be a bit rigid. Now I knew the truth: I just wasn’t her.

I turned to leave, but Denver called out.

“Brielle, what are you doing? Why are you dressed like that out in this cold?”

I hesitated before turning back, just in time to hear him add, “You think it’s okay greeting our guests looking like that?”

The autumn wind bit through my thin pajamas, but the chill in my heart was worse.

Sabrina sized me up with a smirk.

“So, you’re Denver’s fiancée? My, my, you really do look like me,” she said with feigned innocence.

Denver’s face froze and I assumed it was guilt.

I turned to leave but overheard him murmur to Sabrina, “We’re not officially married yet, so it doesn’t count…”

Right. It doesn’t count. Six years of love. His promises, his proposal. None of it mattered.

I said nothing and went back inside. Denver and Sabrina followed. He bent down to help her with her shoes, but his face darkened when he noticed the messy state of the room.

“Why is the house such a mess? Didn’t I tell you to clean up?”

Denver, who had never lifted a finger at home, suddenly started tidying up—for Sabrina.

He fussed over whether she was comfortable, oblivious to the fact that everything we’d built together was now gone. I ignored them and continued packing.

Denver hesitated, then came over.

“Why isn’t there any food? Brielle, what happened?” He paused, then added, “Are you upset because I brought her over? Don’t worry, she’s just visiting. Sabrina and I are just friends. We’ve been friends since we were kids and she’s always been fragile. It was just a bit of friendly concern.”

Denver, usually so reserved, couldn’t stop talking about Sabrina. His voice softened as he spoke of her. It was as if he had transformed into someone I no longer recognized. I stared at him, my impatience growing.

“So what? Am I supposed to be your maid now?”

It was the first time I’d ever snapped at him and his stunned expression showed he wasn’t used to it. Realizing he’d overstepped, he pulled a necklace from his pocket.

“Of course not. Look, I got you this. I wanted to give it to you today to thank you for doing everything I asked.”

I instantly recognized it as a cheap promotional giveaway from the theme park. I’d begged Denver to go there with me so many times, but he’d always claimed he was too busy. Now, with Sabrina back, he was willing to get up early just to make her happy.

Seeing my silence, Denver assumed I’d forgiven him. He leaned in to place the necklace around my neck.

“I know you’re not the jealous, dramatic type of girlfriend,” he said with a smug smile.

Revulsion coursed through me. I quickly pulled away from his touch.

Denver's hand froze mid-air and his face twisted into impatience.

“Brielle, what’s wrong with you? You’ve changed. I think it’s because you’ve been hanging around your coworkers too much. Picking up bad habits from them.”

He paused for effect, then added, “You should quit your job as soon as possible and just focus on the wedding. Sabrina just got back from overseas and is looking for a job. She’s in broadcasting too. After you resign, she can take your spot.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could respond, a loud crash echoed from the living room.

Denver’s entire demeanor shifted; he pushed past me and sprinted toward the sound.

His abrupt motion slammed my shoulder into the cabinet. Pain flared and tears pricked my eyes as I stumbled after him.

When I reached the living room, Denver was already crouched beside Sabrina, comforting her like she was made of porcelain. On the floor between them lay my mother’s jade bracelet—shattered into pieces.

“I’m so sorry, Brielle. I just wanted to take a closer look because it was so beautiful. I didn’t mean to break it,” Sabrina said, her voice trembling with fake remorse.

I bent down to pick up the fragments, my hands shaking with fury. I finally snapped and shouted, “That bracelet was my mother’s heirloom!”

Sabrina’s eyes instantly brimmed with tears. She shrank into Denver’s arms, trembling dramatically. “Denver, she’s scaring me. I didn’t mean to—”

Before she could finish, Denver’s face darkened. “Brielle, stop yelling at her! It’s just a bracelet—we can buy a new one.” He pulled out a wad of cash from his wallet and threw it at me, the bills smacking against my face.

“But you’ve made Sabrina upset. You owe her an apology!”

The edge of a bill scraped my cheek, leaving a stinging line. I felt hot tears mix with the blood as they slid down my face. Denver’s expression softened for a brief moment when he saw me crumble. He sighed, reached out and helped me to my feet.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you, but you were in the wrong and as a—”

Before he could finish, Sabrina stood abruptly.

“I knew it. I’m not welcome here. I never should’ve come back from Paris,” she announced. “My family has already arranged a match for me anyway. I don’t need to hold on to the past.” She grabbed her bag and walked out dramatically.

Denver panicked. I had never seen such desperation on his face before. Without another word, he ran after her, leaving me alone.

As I picked up the broken pieces of the bracelet, Denver’s hurried footsteps crushed my foot. A shard pierced my palm and the searing pain made me cry out. But Denver didn’t even glance back. His focus was entirely on Sabrina. I cradled the shattered bracelet in my hands, memories of my late mother flooding my mind.

I remembered Denver kneeling by her hospital bed, swearing an oath.

“I promise I’ll take care of Brielle for the rest of my life. I’ll never let her down.”

Over the years, he had kept his promise so well that people around us envied our relationship.

But watching him now, fussing over Sabrina, I realized how shallow his affection had been.

Now that Sabrina was back, even that veneer of kindness had vanished.

As sadness consumed me, my phone buzzed, breaking through my thoughts. It was my boss, sending over a contract.

“Have you though this through? Because once you sign, there’s no turning back. You’ll be cutting ties with everything you know. I just need to know that you’re sure.”