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.

I didn't usually wear leather shoes because my ankle's messed up from an old injury, so walking in them felt like a punishment.

It took me forever to limp my way over to Chloe. She was glowing, laughing at something Jaxson said; her whole face lit up with that soft smile she never had for me.

The jacket I gave her to keep warm? She just tossed it on the ground like she didn't need anything from me anymore.

As soon as she saw me approaching, her smile dropped fast. Her brows knitted together like she was accusing me that I'd open my mouth, tell Jaxson about our relationship, and ruin her perfect little act.

"What?" she quickly said before I could open my mouth. "I'm just catching up with an old classmate."

For a second, I just stood there, frozen. Then I forced a smile, playing along.

"'Forgot I had something urgent to do at work. I gotta head back. I didn't bring my phone for the photoshoot, so I just wanted to let you know."

She blinked, looking surprised. Maybe she thought I'd make a scene out of jealousy like I used to, but I wasn't interested in that anymore. There was no point. And I didn't want to humiliate myself any more than I already had.

Her expression softened as she nodded without a word, almost relieved.

I turned around and hobbled away, my ankle killing me with every step.

Behind me, I overheard her laugh again, brushing everything off.

"Don't worry about it, seriously. It's just some stupid bridal shop thing. They needed models, and we were available…"

I wasn't lying—I really did go back to work. I spent the rest of the day tying up loose ends, though I wasn't exactly focused.

The sky had already darkened when I got home.

For the time time, dinner was set on the table.

As far as I could remember, she had never cooked for me.

As soon as I walked in, she quickly put down her phone, her expression a little off. "You're back. Why so late this time? I made dinner. Oh, by the way, you looked like you've lost some weight in that suit this morning…"

I paused halfway across the room. Lost weight?

I hadn't noticed, but then again, I hadn't really been eating since those photos showed up on her laptop.

Still, as I glanced at the dishes at the table—heavy, greasy, drowning in cheese and carbs—I felt my stomach twist. Lasagna, mac and cheese, pizza… She didn't care. She'd never bothered to learn what I liked.

"You go ahead," I said, my voice flat. "I'm not hungry. I'm heading to bed."

As I walked away, my ankle throbbed again, the blister from those damn leather shoes stinging like fire.

She must've noticed because the next thing I knew, she was standing in the bedroom doorway with a first-aid kit

For a split second, I almost laughed. After all these years, she suddenly tried to take care of me.

It was too little, too late. The wound had already scabbed over.

And I didn't need her anymore.

"Thanks, but I'm fine," I said, brushing her off.

She stood there for a moment and stared at me, her face darkening a little. She left without another word, only to return with a slice of pizza and place it on the nightstand.

"I didn't know Jaxson would be there," she began, her voice small. "He's an old friend. We hadn't seen each other in years, so I couldn't just ignore him. Please, don't take it the wrong way. I—"

I glanced at the food on the nightstand and cut her off mid-sentence. "I don't eat stuff like that, Chloe, remember?"

She always knew I needed a protein-rich meal to feel full. I'd never been one to settle for a quick bite, especially not something like a slice of pizza.

But she obviously didn't care. She never had.

After all these years, she finally tried, and I didn't feel a thing. I was done craving for her affection.

Her face hardened, and with the typical cold expression on her face, she walked out of the room.

That time, she didn't come back.

By midnight, my stomach started growling. I tiptoed to the kitchen for some water and saw the faint glow of Chloe's phone screen from the living room.

She was chatting with someone, her fingers flying across the screen, her face lit up in a smile.

I remembered how she used to tell me she never stayed up late—it was bad for her skin, she said, which was why she never stayed up with me on New Year's Eve.

The coldness in my chest spread, and I turned away without even bothering to get that drink.

Just turned around and went back to bed.

The next day, we were supposed to get a marriage license.

But when I stepped out of the room, the house was empty. She was already gone. No text message, no note.

Out of habit, I checked Jaxson's socials, and sure enough, I saw he'd posted he's posted an update. It was a pic of him lying in a hospital bed with an IV drip, looking as pitiful as ever.

It came with a caption.

[How can someone live away from home for so long and still not know how to take care of themselves? Barely back home and already landed myself in the hospital.]

I couldn't help but wonder how a grown man could be so careless about something as serious as his own health.

But I didn't care enough to think anymore about him.

I spent the rest of the day packing my stuff. By the time the night fell, Chloe still wasn't home.

She only sent a half-hearted message:[Working late.]

I stared at those two words on the screen for a long time. I let out a bitter laugh. She didn't even bother to come up with a good lie.

I'd spoken to her supervisor earlier that week, and he mentioned they'd cleared her schedule to give her time for the wedding.

So I figured she was probably 'working' at the hospital.

Midnight came, and the countdown on my phone hit zero.

The wedding was supposed to be the next morning, but for me, it marked my flight out of her life.

I spent the night on the couch and left for the airport first thing.

On the way there, I couldn't help but feel relieved.

At least the wedding thing had been fake.

At least I hadn't told my family.

Otherwise, I'd have no idea how to explain ditching my bride to my parents.

When I reached the airport, I called Chloe to break up with her officially. But the phone barely rang before she hung up on me.

A second later, I got a series of voice messages from her. Her tone was beyond impatient.

"I'm almost there! What are you so worked up about? We're getting married. Do you think I'm just gonna ditch you? Jeez!"

"Jaxson got discharged early just to attend the wedding, but he got into a car accident on the way! God, Desmond, can't you be a li'l more understanding?"

"Just keep my friends entertained. I'll explain everything to them when I get there."

When the voice messages ended, I stared blankly at the screen of my phone.

After a moment, I typed back a short message.

[We're done. The wedding's all yours.]