For eight years, I waited for Chloe to love me back.

But it only took less than five minutes to find out that she had been waiting for someone else in all those years.

Three days before our wedding, I found something on her laptop—thousands of pictures.

All of the same guy. Her high school sweetheart.

I didn't ask who, when, why, how... There's only one answer—she had betrayed me. But I pretended she didn't like there's still some hope for us.

She was almost my bride, but I was never close to being the groom she truly wanted.

On the day of our wedding, I took a flight away from her, as if the marriage we were supposed to have had already turned into a divorce.

But when I finally let her go, why did she start waiting for me to say 'I do'?

——

"Mr. Langston, that spot in the overseas branch… Is it still open?" I asked my supervisor. He'd offered an overseas assignment for me once, and I decided it was about time I accepted it. "I've made up my mind—I'm in."

"Of course! I'll get your papers sorted right right away!" He sounded relieved, like he'd been waiting for me to back out of getting married and make this call. "Desmond, that's really great. I kept telling you that a man should focus on his career. Heard you were getting married, though…?"

"Yeah, well, n-not anymore," I said with a bitter smile. I forced a laugh just to be casual, but boy, my voice was shaking. "But don't worry about it."

Of course, he would. But I hung up before he could say he was sorry, before he could doubt I was fit for the overseas assignment, or before he could ask why Chloe and I were no longer getting married.

The endless pictures of the same guy in my fiancé's laptop—he's the why.

It was like opening a Pandora's box, except instead of chaos, it was his face—over and over again. Thousands, no, endless photos flooded the screen. Each one stared back at me, pixelated and mocking.

I stared at the screen for so long that my eyes couldn't keep up. They were bouncing from one image to another, zipping across the screen like I was scrolling through a nightmare in fast-forward.

It felt like the whole room was spinning. My brain couldn't process it fast enough, and soon enough, my head started to feel light, my stomach tight, like I was one picture away from passing out.

Chloe and I both started at the same company after graduation. We just worked in separate departments.

She was out tonight for her bachelorette party her friend organized.

Her supervisor couldn't reach her and urgently needed her proposal, so he called me instead.

That's when I opened her laptop for the first time. That's when I found out there's this man she's crazy in love with in all those years we were together. That's when I found out it was never me.

Dude. Eight long years of memories came crashing down on me. All at once.

Chloe wasn't like most girls.

I mean, she never had a single picture of me on her phone. I mean, not one. No photos of us together. Nothing. Sometimes, even I couldn't tell if we were a couple.

I'd even beg her, practically on my knees, like, "Come on, babe, let's take a selfie!" But she'd always say, "Seriously? We see each other all the time! No need to document it!"

Now, I get it. It wasn't that she didn't care about memories. It's that I wasn't worth remembering.

For eight years, I made excuses for her.

Sometimes I'd stay out late just hoping she'd show some sign that she gave a damn about me—her fiancé. Maybe text or call me, ask where I was, or when I'd come home—anything.

But nope. I'd walk in at 2 a.m. to find she was sleeping soundly. In the morning, I'd tell her I was sorry I came home late. But she didn't mind, as if she hadn't even noticed I was gone.

Looking back now, I feel like such a fool. How the hell did I not see this coming?

Once, her friend slipped up when she found out we were getting married.

"I always thought you'd die alone, waiting for Jaxson. 'You really getting married? 'You sure you're not just doing this to prove a point?"

I didn't catch Chloe's guilty look back then. I didn't even bother thinking who that Jaxson was. It didn't cross my mind that she could be guilty.

I even defended her in my head. I was like, 'Sure, Chloe may not be sweet, but she wouldn't stay with me this long if she didn't love me!'

I was too busy thumping my chest, convincing myself. 'She's marrying me because she loves me!' I thought over and over like a prayer.

Now? Yeah, dammit, I can't even say that without choking on it.

I shut her laptop and took a deep breath. I wanted to call her and end things right there.

But when I picked up my phone, I saw she hadn't even replied to the text I sent her about picking out her wedding dress.

I checked her social media. She hadn't posted anything.

Nothing but a dark profile pic. Nothing, except that one word in her bio: [Waiting.]

I let out a bitter laugh and just collapsed onto the couch.

Back then, I thought she was just... I don't know—shy? Not good with her feelings?

But now, I realize... I was a fucking idiot!

I'd asked her a million times what that 'waiting' thing meant. She never answered.

Now, I no longer had to ask.

Three days until our wedding, I set a countdown on my phone as the wallpaper. I watched the seconds tick away every time I looked at my screen.

It reminded me of how much time I had left to escape such a nightmare.

I was booking my flight when her friend called. "Hey, Desmond, Chloe's wasted... You should come pick her up. I'll send you the address," Diana said.

I could hear my fiancé in the background. She was calling out, "Jaxson!"

And my chest just... tightened.

Her friend was quick to muffle the phone and hung up.

I shook my head, trying to snap out of it. I grabbed my coat and headed for the door.

That's when I saw the couple's keychains I bought for us. I had them custom-made for us, thinking they would mean something. I heard girls love that kind of thoughtful stuff.

But she called it childish and never used it once. And she tossed it carelessly on the shelf.

I picked it up, stared at it for a second, then threw it in the trash.

Then I noticed the matching mugs I'd bought—still in the box, unwrapped.

It was like the universe was mocking me. Just a constant reminder of how one-sided this whole thing had been.

Something bubbled up in my chest. I could feel it in my veins as I grabbed the trash can and dumped everything.

The mugs, the keychains. All of it.

Then I got in a cab and headed to the address her friend sent.

When I got to the door, I could hear them laughing inside.

Someone asked, "So what's up, Jaxson? 'Didn't expect you back today. 'Regretting letting Chloe get married?"

So the man my fiancé had been waiting for in eight years we were together... He was back.

I took a deep breath, forced a smile, and pushed the door open.

The second I walked in, the room went dead silent. Everyone stared at me awkwardly, like I was someone uninvited to a party.

And there she was—the woman I was supposed to marry in three days, snuggled up against some bastard.

She stared at him the way I looked at her—like she wanted to keep him forever.

I stared at that bastard.

He looked younger, but he's wearing that same old cocky face.

Like those pics my fiancé kept on her laptop, which she probably secretly dreamed of waking up in bed.

Diana clearly didn't expect me to show up at the party so soon. Her eyes widened in panic, and she rushed to pull Chloe away from the bastard.

But it was clear my fiancé had drunk way too much to even notice my presence. She shoved Chloe's hand and cursed and slurred, "Fuck! Get off me! Don't fucking touch me!"

She was so wasted, her body limp and heavy against the bastard's chest. Her face looked red as flames; eyes half-lidded like she couldn't even tell what year it was—much less than she was supposed to be getting married to me in a few days. Her hand clung to his arm tighter, fingers digging in like she never wanted to be away from him ever again.

I'd never seen her like that before. She was never like that to me.

With the room falling into silence, I could hear Diana whispering in between her gritted teeth. "Chloe, come on! Desmond's here to take you home!"

Diana grabbed her best friend's arm and tried to pull her up. But Chloe wasn't having it. She was dead weight, all slack limbs and muttering more curses.

Took two more of her friends to finally pry her fingers off the bastard's arm. When they finally did, she slumped back onto the couch like a ragdoll, her hair a mess, strands sticking to her sweaty forehead.

Diana turned to me, scrambling to explain like I didn't already know what was going on.

"Uh... Desmond, this is Jaxson. Jaxson Wilde," she said. She sounded too cheerful, but I could hear her secretly catching her breath. I could tell she was trying to salvage the moment.

"He's an old high school buddy. He went abroad in sophomore year, and he just got back today. 'Just dropped by for a little get-together, you know, and well… Chloe... She drank too much, that's all. Hope you don't think too much of it..."

I should've snapped. I should've demanded to know why the hell they let him be at Chloe's bachelorette party, knowing how she had never really let him go. Why did they let her get drunk around him, knowing full well she and I were about to get married?

Why didn't they stop him?

Why didn't they stop her?

Maybe before, maybe a while back, I would've lost it. I would've gone nuts.

But instead, I just gave her a smile so fake and tight I thought my jaw would crack.

Jaxson glanced at me, his eyes almost curious, like he was trying to figure me out. Maybe he's trying to see if I'd make a scene.

Then Diana started introducing me, "And oh, Jaxson, this is Desmond. Desmond Montgomery, Chloe's fiancé."

That's when Chloe, half-asleep on the couch, suddenly lifted her head and cut in. Her voice was thick with alcohol but sharp enough to slice through me. "Friend!" she corrected. "He's just a friend!"

At that moment, I felt my hand clench so hard under the sleeve of my coat, my nails digging into my palm. It hurt, but the pain was the only thing keeping me from breaking down right there.

Chloe's friends around us shifted uncomfortably, and I could see the pity in their eyes. They were staring at me and didn't know what to do.

They probably knew it wasn't the first time Chloe refused to admit I was her fiancé.

She never wanted to post anything about us online, and she didn't want us to show up at work together, either. She also didn't want to invite our families to our wedding.

I should've known it'd end like this. But eight years, man. Eight years, and I still wanted to believe it was worth something.

I forced another smile and nodded at Jaxson, playing along as if none of it hurt.

"Hey, dude. Yup. I'm Chloe's friend. Here to pick her up. By the way, you look a lot older than I remember in the photos."

That made the room go dead silent, and I could feel the tension.

Jaxson just shrugged and gave me this lazy grin like none of it bothered him. He grabbed a cigarette from the table and lit it up.

I glanced at Chloe, but the smell didn't seem to bother her. That got me. She never let me smoke around her. She'd make such a big deal out of it. But with him, she didn't even flinch.

As soon as Jaxson reached for the fruit platter on the table, though, she sat straight up. Her eyes were suddenly wide with concern, like she was fully alert. She slurred, "Hey! You're allergic to mangoes, remember? You can't eat that!"

He laughed, shook his head, and pointed at the platter. "Chloe, that's watermelon. You're really drunk."

And that was it for me. Something inside just snapped.

I've been telling her for years that I'm allergic to seafood and that pollen breaks out my skin.

But she'd always suggest seafood restaurants for dates and always wanted flowers.

Yet there she was, remembering his damn mango allergy from ten years ago like it was etched into her soul.

I barely held my shit together, but I kept my face blank and yanked her off the couch. I dragged her downstairs while she was practically deadweight, her legs stumbling and barely supporting her own weight.

As we reached the exit, Jaxson even had the guts to follow us out, his eyes still taunting.

"Hey, dude. Chloe can't handle alcohol well," he said like I hadn't figured that out already. "And she's allergic to most hangover meds. You should make her honey water when you get her home. Not too hot though, around sixty degrees. Anything hotter? She'll have a killer headache tomorrow morning."

She never told me that. Not once. Not in eight years.

I clenched my teeth, didn't say a word, just turned to the cab when it stopped near us.

But the bastard called out again. "Hey, why don't I give you my number? You can hit me up if anything happens tonight."

I froze. And he wasn't even done.

"Oh, and keep an eye on her while she sleeps. She kicks off her comforter when she's had too much to drink," he said with a smirk, "so you'll want to cover her up. If she catches a cold, she'll wake up sick tomorrow."

I could feel my nails digging into my palm in one hand again, practically breaking my skin, and I imagined it was his eyes and mouth.

I stared at him for a long time. My fist itched the longer I looked at him in the eye.

I nodded eventually. We exchanged numbers, and I nearly lost it when I saw his home screen.

It was the two of them. From ten years ago. Holding hands. Smiling.

In that pic, they looked so innocent, so happy, like nothing could tear them apart.

That was it. I turned away, shoved Chloe into the back seat, and climbed in. The door shut, and for the first time, I could feel the tears burning in my eyes.

The driver pulled off, and I couldn't hold it in anymore. I bit my lip so hard I could taste my blood; fists clenched so tight the veins on the back of my hand were straining under my skin.

I wanted to scream, shake Chloe awake, and ask if she ever loved me back, even just a little.

If she said yes, I might beg her to stay with me forever. Maybe I'd tell my supervisor I changed my mind, that I wasn't leaving her, that I loved her more than my career.

After all, I was there when Jaxson left her.

And I was there every damn day she waited for him to come back.

Why couldn't she see she deserved me better than him?

I'd heard all the talk about high school sweethearts.

People say you can't beat them—no matter how much you love someone, no matter how long you stay with them, you'll always lose to the person who was there first.

I used to think that's just bull. I thought if you loved someone the way they deserved to be loved and stuck it out through the hard times, they'd eventually love you back.

I believed in that. For eight years, I believed it.

But I looked at Chloe beside me. Oh, I loved her for eight years, and I could love her longer than that.

But in the end, suddenly, her high school sweetheart was back when she was almost mine forever.

We hadn't even made it back home, but Chloe's phone kept buzzing every now and then. Every single one was a message from Jaxson checking to see if she got home safe.

So I unlocked her screen, thinking I should just shoot back a polite response on her behalf. But right before I typed anything, I saw her last message with one of her friends.

[This fake marriage is my last shot. If he doesn't come back, I'm really done.]

[Share the news about my wedding in the class group chat, but don't tell anyone else.]

My finger froze on the screen, and I slammed the phone shut and shoved it into Chloe's bag like it was on fire.

Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get air into my lungs. Each time I tried to inhale, it felt like I was suffocating. I didn't even realize the tears were spilling out of my eyes again, hot and fast, soaking the collar of my shirt.

No wonder she asked me to marry her out of the blue three days ago when I least expected it. I had no ring, no plans, nothing ready.

She just brushed it off. "Don't bother," she said, like we weren't really going to a wedding.

She just had one request. "Don't tell our families."

I thought I had finally done it—I had won her over after eight long years.

But it turns out the wedding wasn't for her and me at all.

It was just a ploy to make her high school sweetheart jealous enough to come back. That was her real plan.

At that moment, any lingering hope I had for us was gone. I felt completely drained.

It didn't matter anymore. I was leaving soon, and they could do whatever they wanted.

When we got home, Chloe sobered up a bit. She didn't say a word to me; she just went straight to the bathroom to wash up.

I followed Jaxson's advice and made her some honey water. I figured, what the hell? I might as well make the last few days decent.

I'd barely sat down on the couch when my supervisor called, asking about my work handover before I left.

Right after hanging up, Chloe's annoyed voice cut through the silence, sharp and annoyed.

"Leavin'? Where are you goin'?"

She was drying her hair, looking at me with that blank expression I'd gotten so used to.

I handed her the honey water, trying to sound casual. "Just a business trip."

She didn't push for more, which hit harder than I wanted to admit.

She took the cup, ready to drink, but then her face twisted in irritation when she probably smelled the honey.

"Who taught you this?" she snapped, glaring at me. "Come on, stop reading crap on the net! What works for some people doesn't work for everyone!"

She slammed the cup on the table and stormed off to the bedroom.

I sank onto the couch with a bitter smile.

Of course. What worked for her high school sweetheart to win her wouldn't work for me.

The next day was supposed to be our photoshoot for the wedding. She woke up like it was nothing special at all, still as cold and distant as ever.

But after seeing how she acted so sweetly around Jaxson, I knew better now. It wasn't her personality—she just didn't care about me.

We had breakfast in silence. As we were leaving, she looked at her phone and said, "Let's not take the photos at the park. Let's go to the uni instead. I saw it's been trending online lately."

I knew exactly right then why she wanted to change locations: Jaxson had posted some nostalgic school stuff that morning.

I could've called her out on it, but I just didn't want to make things worse.

I was leaving in a day and a half.

The least I could do was keep some dignity.

Before we headed out, I just knew how the day would go, so I didn't even bring the wedding dress.

Of course, she didn't even ask about it or notice it was missing.

The photographer took us to the uni's sports field.

Chloe scanned the place for a minute, and then her eyes lit up as soon as they landed on a familiar figure standing in the shade of a tree.

It was Jaxson.

Without even looking at me, she turned and bolted toward him.

Like he was the groom.

I glanced at the photographer, and he looked confused.

I gave him an apologetic smile, saying, "Sorry for the trouble. Let's call it a day. Don't worry. You'll still get paid."

As he left, the image of Chloe running to Jaxson played in my head like a broken record.

I felt like I was losing her for real.

And it stung more than I ever expected.

The photo shoot.

The wedding.

The eight years.

I saw it all ending right there the second Chloe was back in her high school sweetheart's arms.