Joseph's POV

Whitney's anger flared even hotter. "A blessing? Do you have any idea how guilty Kaiden felt all night after you liked that post? He kept apologizing to me, worried he'd given you the wrong idea."

It struck me as so absurd that I couldn't help laughing.

"Whitney, if Kaiden actually felt guilty, he'd be apologizing to me instead of putting on a show for you. Either way, you and I are already over. Whatever's going on between you two has nothing to do with me anymore. Whether he feels guilty or not is none of my concern," I scoffed.

Whitney glared at me, practically spitting the words through gritted teeth. "Fine, Joseph. You think you're so tough? Let's see how long you can keep this stubborn act up."

With that, she waved her hand and snapped at me to get out.

Yet less than ten minutes after I returned to my desk, a personnel-change announcement popped up in the company's internal group chat.

I was stripped of my position as Director of Project Management, and Kaiden took over the core project right out from under me—the very one I had spent the last six months slaving over, just when it was on the verge of launching.

As for me, I was demoted and reassigned to the back office, left to handle trivial administrative odds and ends.

When I looked at the words on the screen, my heart still gave a painful, involuntary twist.

Even though I had already made up my mind to resign, I still wanted to see my final project through to its launch before leaving. After all, it represented all the blood, sweat, and tears I had poured into my career so far.

I had thought that even if the feelings were gone, the bond we formed while building this company together still counted for something. But looking back, I realized it was just wishful thinking on my part.

Then again, maybe this was for the best. It allowed me to cut ties ahead of schedule.

I opened my laptop, and just as I finished typing my resignation letter, a message came in from Clara's assistant, Elena Parker.

"Mr. Gibson, Ms. Jensen mentioned that your wedding tuxedo has been tailored to your measurements. You can head over to the boutique after work to try it on. Please feel free to reach out if you need anything."

After clocking out, I left the office and headed to the bridal boutique using the address provided.

The store clerk greeted me warmly. "Are you Mr. Gibson? Ms. Jensen already called ahead. Your tuxedo is ready for you in the fitting room."

The tuxedo featured clean, sharp lines that perfectly accentuated my tall, elegant frame.

As I stood before the full-length mirror, looking at my reflection in the tuxedo, a flood of memories washed over me, completely beyond my control.

Whitney had once promised that as soon as the company stabilized, she would come with me to pick out a tuxedo and throw a wedding that would be the envy of everyone.

I had believed her. So I waited, year after year, watching my eager anticipation slowly fade into cold indifference.

A sudden sting hit the back of my nose, and tears slipped down my cheeks despite my best efforts to hold them back.

I wasn't crying for Whitney. I was mourning the man I had been—the fool who had blindly poured out his heart for seven long years.

Just then, the clerk's polite voice carried from the front of the boutique.

"Ms. Pearson, you're here."

My whole body froze, and I slowly turned around.

Whitney was standing at the entrance. When her eyes landed on me, her face filled with shock.

She quickly noticed my bloodshot, tear-rimmed eyes. Her gaze softened with a rare touch of sympathy, and she walked over to me.

"The tuxedo looks great on you. If you like it, I'll buy it for you."

She paused, then went on, "I admit I've been neglecting you lately, but that's only because you've been so stubborn, always trying to force me into things I'm not ready for. Just behave yourself. Once the company goes public and settles down, I promise I'll marry you."

She seemed to assume I was so desperate to marry her that I had come to try on a wedding tuxedo all by myself.

I was just about to explain when Kaiden's voice cut in from behind.

"Whitney, I've picked out my tuxedo. Have you chosen your wedding dress yet?"

Kaiden, wearing a white tuxedo, walked over and naturally slid his arm around Whitney's slender waist.

The gesture was intimate enough that they looked like a real couple.

Whitney's body instantly went rigid. She scrambled to push him away, but fearing it would draw suspicion, she stopped and offered a rushed, defensive explanation instead.

"Joseph, don't get the wrong idea. Kaiden just wanted to see what it feels like to wear a tuxedo, and he didn't have any other female friends to come with him."

Joseph's POV

Whitney gave a half-hearted explanation. "You know how younger guys are. They see trends on social media and just want to hop on the bandwagon."

I remembered how I had once begged her to do a wedding photoshoot with me, only for her to tell me the internet had brainwashed me. She had said a tuxedo was just a piece of clothing and that I was making a mountain out of a molehill.

Yet here she was, willing to set aside time to help Kaiden pick out a tuxedo.

I didn't bother arguing with her anymore and turned to leave.

But Kaiden quickly stepped forward and grabbed my wrist.

"Joseph, everything Ms. Pearson said is true. If you're still mad, just hit me!"

Before I could even react, he let himself fall sideways and crumpled to the floor with a sharp gasp.

"Ah!"

He pressed a hand to his ankle, his face turning pale—the perfect picture of someone in real pain.

"Whitney, I think I sprained my ankle. It hurts so bad."

The moment Whitney saw it, she immediately shoved me aside. She rushed over to support him, glaring up at me with absolute fury.

"Joseph Gibson, you've gone way too far!"

Without a moment's hesitation, she helped Kaiden up and walked him out of the store.

Watching her hurried departure, I found the whole thing absurd.

This wasn't the first time Kaiden had pulled a stunt like this to frame me. In the past, I used to think Whitney was just being manipulated, but now I realized she wasn't blind to his antics at all—she chose to be.

I had never truly mattered to her. That was why she always blindly took Kaiden's side without ever asking for my version of the story.

When I got back to my temporary apartment, my phone was buzzing incessantly with texts, all coming from Whitney's work number.

"Joseph, get over to the hospital right now and apologize to Kaiden, or I'm postponing our wedding indefinitely.

"Even if your dad doesn't pull through this time, I won't cave again!"

Text after text, every single word reeked of her selfishness and arrogance.

She had even dragged my dad into it, throwing his impending death in my face. Sick to my stomach with rage, I blocked and deleted her work number too, without a second thought.

With that done, I logged into the company's HR portal and officially submitted my resignation.

The moment the email went through, every last shadow hanging over my heart vanished completely.

…

Whitney's POV

Just as I sent off the string of texts with a dark look on my face, Kaiden spoke up in a weak voice. "Whitney, is Joseph really mad at me? It's all my fault. If I hadn't been so clumsy, none of this would have happened."

"It's not your fault. Joseph is just throwing a temper tantrum. Don't worry, I'll get you the apology you deserve," I reassured him, my tone leaving no room for doubt.

In the past, whenever I threatened to postpone the wedding, Joseph would always swallow his pride and come crawling back to apologize. I was completely confident this time would be no different.

But early the next morning, I received a call from HR.

"Ms. Pearson, Mr. Gibson has submitted his formal resignation. His decision is final, and we couldn't convince him to stay."

The news hit me out of nowhere, and I felt my blood boil. Incensed, I drove straight to our apartment.

But when I opened the door, I found that every single trace of Joseph was gone.

I pulled out my phone to text him with my work number, only to find that he had blocked it too.

An unfamiliar panic began to gnaw at me.

That dread reached a fever pitch the moment I caught sight of a pristine white wedding invitation resting on the table.

Printed clearly in the space for the groom was Joseph's name. But in the space for the bride, the name wasn't mine.

In an instant, the color drained from my face, leaving me deathly pale. The invitation slipped from my fingers and fell onto the floor.