Before she died, my mother endured a grueling thirty-hour train ride in a hard seat just to attend my wedding with Eason.

I had knelt at the Garcia family's doorstep for ten hours with my mother's medical records, begging Eason to fake this wedding to comfort my mother before her death.

But when the time of the wedding, I screamed for him, but he was nowhere to be found.

As my mother stepped into the wedding venue, she collapsed and died, turning my wedding day into her funeral.

After dealing with her funeral arrangements, I saw a post by Eason's secretary Cindy Perez at midnight.

[The unloved one is always the third wheel.']

I calmly texted Eason to break up.

Eason returned home, not alone but with Cindy.

By the time I finished my mother's funeral, it was early morning. I returned to our cold, empty apartment and took off the cheap wedding dress I had rented.

It had been ten hours since I sent Eason that breakup message.

This wasn't the first time Eason had left me for Cindy.

Ever since she came into the picture, our dates were frequently interrupted.

It was either an allergy attack or a stomachache.

Eason treated her minor issues as emergencies.

Initially, I argued, but eventually, I realized my position.

I grew numb.

I sat on the cold tile floor and drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up, Eason was sitting on the sofa, smoking. His face was full of impatience as he looked at the wedding dress thrown on the sofa.

"Why are you sleeping here? Why not go to your room? You scared me to death when I walked in."

He said, frowning at my red and swollen eyes. "It was just a wedding. It was fake anyway. Can't I just give you a real one later? Why are you so dramatic?"

As he spoke, Cindy walked in with a bag of breakfast and the keys.

Instantly, all my vulnerability was exposed.

Sensing the tension between us, Cindy spoke in a sweet, innocent tone.

"I'm sorry, Yara. I had terrible cramps this afternoon and almost fainted. If Mr. Garcia hadn't found me and taken me to the hospital, I might have died."

I glanced at her delicate face indifferently, too tired to respond.

Cindy then seemed to remember something and took out a black plastic bag from her purse.

"Mr. Garcia ran several kilometers to buy this for me, but it's not suitable. I'll give it to you, Yara."

She batted her eyes, feigning innocence.

She thought I still cared about our fractured relationship.

A sarcastic smile played on my lips. Once she finished speaking, I looked at Eason and said coldly, "Eason, let's break up."

I didn't need a wedding, real or fake.

Just being near him made me sick.

Without waiting for his reaction, I stood up and went to the bedroom to grab the suitcase I had packed the night before.

My body was stiff from holding the same posture for too long.

But Eason ignored me and continued eating the breakfast Cindy brought.

Dragging my small suitcase to the door, I paused, remembering the items in the refrigerator.

I turned back and stood in front of Eason.

He looked up, scoffing, "Changed your mind? It's not too late to apologize. Don't be so stubborn; I've spoiled you too much over the years."

I didn't even glance at him. I simply looked at the fridge and said, "Please move aside."

He looked sullen and ignored me, so I stepped past him.

From the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, I carefully retrieved the meat pies my mother had made during her last visit.

I held them gently in my arms.

As I turned to leave, Eason deliberately tripped me.

It made me hit my head on the corner of the table.

He frowned, clearly annoyed. "Why are you treating that junk like it's precious? You should've thrown that garbage out long ago! The refrigerator reeks because of those old meat pies!"

I forced myself up, my hands pressing against the floor where the meat pies scattered.

My vision was blurred by the blood slowly trickling from my wound.

Eason, towering over me with a grim expression, lit a cigarette with a disdainful flick.

"Yara, stop being so pathetic. Do you think groveling on the floor is going to change anything? Just because I helped Cindy yesterday, you're acting like this?

"The wedding was a sham, so why are you flipping out now?

"Can a fake wedding be more important than human life?"

He still thought I was just mad about his absence from the wedding.

It wasn't about the fake ceremony.

It was about never being important to him.

For five years, I had been the lesser one in our relationship.

Perhaps compared to me, Cindy could be a better wife that he was satisfied with.

I was always waiting for him to come home.

All I got was news that he and Cindy were socializing together.

I sent him messages, asking him to drink less.

But all my messages were met with the red exclamation mark of being blocked.

Sometimes, they would stay out so late that they'd book a room in the same hotel. Cindy would unblock me from his phone just to send a message with their room number and a photo of them together.

"Yara, I'll take good care of Mr. Garcia. You should get some rest!"

Cindy did take care of him, and now Eason didn't need me anymore.

I stared coldly at Eason. "You're right—human life is important. But not my mother's, right, Eason?"

His face darkened at my accusation.

As I dragged my suitcase to the door, Eason yelled at me.

"Do you really have to go insane today? Can't I go to the hospital and apologize to your mother? I'll even bring Cindy along if you want! Is that enough? Do you want me to put her hospital IV list in front of your mom?"

His outburst made my chest burn with rage.

In his eyes, my mother and I were just unreasonable nuisances.

Seeing the fire in my eyes, Eason's doubt flickered for a moment as he moved to grab me.

But Cindy held him back.

"Her mother's tickets must be fake; she probably didn't even make it here. It's not that her mother's unhappy. Yara's just mad because you missed the wedding yesterday. Don't worry, I can explain it to her with a hospital certificate."

That was the last straw. A surge of anger consumed me, obliterating my restraint.

I snatched the black bag from the shoe cabinet and hurled it at Cindy's head. Then, with a fierce grip, I slammed her head against the wall.

The moment I lashed out, Eason's briefly softened demeanor turned into an explosive fury.

He stormed over, yanked the suitcase from my grip, and flung it across the room.

Clothes scattered everywhere.

As he stomped forward, his leather shoes crushed the meat pies on the floor. I gritted my teeth, staring at the mess beneath his feet.

"Yara, my patience is wearing thin. Stop dragging innocent people into our problems!" he spat.

My hands trembled as I stood there, frozen.

Cindy, with tears welling up, gazed at me innocently.

"I'm sorry, Yara. I just wanted to check the tickets and pick you up at the airport, but I didn't expect..."

Tears spilled from her eyes, mixing with the bits of crushed meat pies on the floor.

"I was only trying to help. The Garcia family has a lot at stake. There are too many cases of people using children to trap and marry into wealth. I..."

She looked at Eason, bit her lip, and shook her head, playing the victim perfectly.

My eyes grew colder, my voice devoid of warmth.

"Eason, do you think I'm lying?"

He didn't answer, but his expression said everything.

The medical records were real.

I had accompanied my mother for the check-up six months ago.

So Cindy she focused on the plane ticket.

My mother didn't take a plane.

Airfare was too costly.

To save money for my dowry, she endured a grueling 30-hour train ride in a hard seat.

It was just to attend a wedding that didn't exist.

Yet Eason couldn't even be bothered to play his part.

In hindsight, he had never truly reciprocated my feelings. Our ending was inevitable from the moment we met.

I deluded myself into believing he loved me, searching for signs in every moment we shared.

Everything was fine for five years.

But Cindy's arrival shattered that fragile balance.

Eason started feeling real emotions—joy, anger, sorrow—and he learned to love.

He would consult me when Cindy had a stomachache.

He'd stock allergy medicine in the car for her.

He paraded Cindy at every event of the Garcia Group, introducing her as his perfect work partner.

In comparison, I felt like a rat, undeserving and discarded.

Even when I laid down my pride, allowing him to trample over my dignity, I couldn't secure a place in this battle for his heart.

I no longer wanted what I could never have.

Cindy's face swelled from where I had hit her, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Eason, seething with rage, cursed as he tended to her, applying ointment with practiced ease.

After soothing Cindy, he turned to me, his tone threatening.

"Yara, stop being so shameless. Cindy did nothing wrong. When she woke up in the hospital yesterday, the first thing she did was urge me to find you at the wedding."

"Look at yourself now—a jealous wreck! How can you even compare to her kindness?"

"Yara, this is your last chance—apologize to her!"

"If you cause more trouble, get out of here!"

I ignored him, focused on gathering my scattered belongings.

As time ticked by, Eason's patience wore thin.

He strode over, grabbed my hair, and yanked my head back. His face twisted with rage.

Pain shot through my scalp as I gritted my teeth, refusing to scream. My eyes, bloodshot, locked onto his.

"Didn't you hear me? Or have you forgotten how to apologize? I've spoiled you too much, Yara!"

"Want your mom's meat pies so bad? How do they taste now?"

He shoved my head toward the floor, rubbing my face into the mess. I bit down hard, but he forced my head against the ground, smearing my lips and cheeks with the mess and tears.

His dissatisfaction festered. He yanked me upright, slapping me hard across the face.

A metallic taste filled my mouth as blood blurred my vision.

"Why don't you speak? Show me how tough you are! Come on, open your mouth!"

He picked up a somewhat intact meat pie, crushing it into my face.

"Is it tasty? Do you like it? Apologize to Cindy now!"

"Or I'll make sure your mother gets sent back to where she came from!"