The day I went to try on wedding dresses, my fiancé, Ryan Mitchell, claimed he was too busy with work to join me. Yet, in the fitting room, I stumbled upon a scene that tore my heart apart.

Ryan had his secretary, Penelope Brooks, pressed into a corner. Her trembling voice broke through the air.

“Mr. Mitchell, please be gentle. I’m pregnant.”

Ryan froze, his expression shifting between shock and anger.

“Don’t even think about using this child to replace Nora’s position in my heart!” he snarled.

In response, Penelope leaned in, her lips brushing his in a desperate, calculated kiss. His anger seemed to waver, and I stood there, watching the man I thought I knew betrayed me so blatantly.

My fists clenched, shaking with suppressed rage and sorrow. I wanted to confront them, to scream at the lies and deceit—but I couldn’t. Instead, I turned away, grabbed the high-end wedding dress I had chosen for our big day, and cut it apart with trembling hands.

Later that day, Ryan sent me a message:

“I’m sorry, I can’t make it to the fitting. Work’s hectic. I’ll be working late tonight.”

The words felt like salt in an open wound. Before I could even respond, a flood of photos arrived from Penelope—images of them tangled together in intimate moments.

So, this was his “overtime.” All those late nights weren’t spent at the office, but with her.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips as tears blurred my vision. The man I had loved, the man I was supposed to marry, had broken something inside me. I canceled the wedding reservations that same day.

But on what would have been our wedding day, Ryan appeared at my door, disheveled and desperate. He fell to his knees, his eyes bloodshot and filled with anguish.

“Nora,” he whispered, his voice trembling, “you are my life. How can you bear to leave me?”

His words, once so cherished, now felt hollow.

——

The memory of the fitting room came rushing back—Penelope’s pleading, their entangled bodies, their obliviousness to my presence. I had stood there, tears streaming silently, unable to comprehend how the man who once swore to love me could betray me so cruelly.

Today was supposed to be a special day—the day we tried on wedding dresses. Ryan told me he was tied up with work and asked me to go ahead without him. I didn’t mind at first. But when I arrived, I was met with a scene I’ll never forget.

Ryan was already there, his arms wrapped tightly around Penelope, his new secretary. Penelope, who had joined his company just three months ago, was the same woman I had convinced him not to fire when he called her clumsy and unfit for the job. I felt sorry for her then, believing she deserved a chance.

Now, standing before me, she was crying, her trembling hands clutching her stomach.

“She’s pregnant,” the thought struck me like a thunderbolt.

My chest tightened, but I forced myself to stay composed. The pain tore through me, but I wouldn’t let myself break down—not here, not in front of them.

To the shock of the shop assistant, I seized the high-end wedding dress, worth tens of millions, and shredded it with trembling hands. My vision blurred with unshed tears, but my resolve held firm.

When I returned home, my phone buzzed with a message from Ryan.

“Sorry, I was swamped with work and couldn’t make it. I’ll be working late tonight, so don’t wait up.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. He had no idea what I had just witnessed—no idea that the wedding dress he insisted on, the dream he had promised me, lay in tatters.

Before I could muster a reply, a message from Penelope popped up. Attached were a series of photos: intimate, lingering moments between her and Ryan. My stomach churned as I scrolled through them, nausea rising until I stumbled to the trash can, retching violently.

“Is this the love you swore to me, Ryan?” I whispered hoarsely.

The diamond ring he had custom-made for me—a symbol of our so-called love, worth tens of millions—slipped from my fingers and landed in the trash.

That night, fever consumed me. I woke the next morning to find Ryan sitting by my bedside, his face etched with concern.

“Nora, you were fine yesterday. Why are you suddenly so ill?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he tried to help me up.

Instinctively, I recoiled. His touch burned like fire.

His hand froze midair, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes.

“Nora, what’s wrong?”

When I looked up, I noticed them—faint kiss marks on his neck, hastily concealed but impossible to miss.

I had already accepted his betrayal, or so I thought. But the sight of those marks pierced through me like a dagger, reopening wounds I thought I’d sealed.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and steadied my voice.

“Ryan,” I began, locking eyes with him, “when we first got together, I told you: if the day ever came when I felt you didn’t love me anymore, I would leave you forever. Do you remember that?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable.

“And now, tell me honestly.” I leaned closer, my gaze unwavering, searching his face for the truth. “Have you done anything to betray me during this time?”

The silence stretched between us like a chasm. I waited, hoping against hope for the man I had loved for ten years to speak the truth.

Ryan spoke without hesitation, his voice as gentle as ever.

“Nora, are you confused because of the fever? How could I not love you? I would never betray you.”

His words, meant to soothe, felt like sharp needles pressing into my chest.

“You are my life,” he continued, his tone unwavering, “and the whole world knows it. Did someone say something to you?”

His eyes, however, betrayed him. Guilt lingered in their depths, contradicting the sincerity of his voice. Even now, he had chosen to lie.

My voice trembled as I asked, “Is it really just a rumor?”

He nodded without faltering. “Of course. I will love you forever,” he assured me again, the promise ringing hollow in my ears.

Love me? I thought bitterly. Yet for so many dark nights, he had been with Penelope.

Ryan and I had been childhood sweethearts. I still remembered the day, at just 18, when he couldn’t wait to confess his love for me. At 20, he’d crowned me his princess with a tiara of expensive diamonds.

The entire city knew of his devotion. People called us inseparable, the perfect couple.

When he had a near-fatal car accident, I didn’t hesitate to donate my bone marrow, ignoring the protests of everyone around me. Our bond had seemed unbreakable, a love story others envied.

Now, that once-glorious love felt like the cruelest joke.

“Nora,” his voice cut through my thoughts, “come with me to the auction later. They’re showcasing the Eternal Heart necklace—your favorite.”

Perhaps this was his way of hiding his betrayal, offering me trinkets to divert my attention. Or perhaps he thought he could buy my trust back.

Later, at the auction, I found a seat and quietly settled in. Ryan sat beside me, but before I could even process the moment, Penelope appeared, slipping gracefully into the seat on his other side.

She smiled at me, her expression deceptively innocent. “Good evening, Ms. Nora,” she greeted, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

Her presence was a brazen taunt, a silent declaration of her conquest.

I couldn’t bear to face her now, so I chose to ignore her entirely, pretending not to hear her greeting.

Penelope wasn’t fazed. She slowly let her smile fade, then turned with calculated grace and slipped her hand into Ryan’s.

They thought I was oblivious, but I saw everything. Every lingering glance, every silent exchange between them.

When the auctioneer announced the Eternal Heart necklace, Penelope audaciously joined the bidding war. She competed fiercely against Ryan, neither willing to back down.

In the end, Ryan secured it at a sky-high price.

Penelope shot me a meaningful glance, her lips curving into a smug smile before she feigned anger, stomped her feet, and walked away.

Ryan, without hesitation, excused himself, claiming he needed to retrieve the auction item.

I watched their retreating figures, one following the other, and no matter how much I tried to hold back, my tears began to fall.

Just then, the sharp ring of my phone shattered the silence, pulling me back to reality.

“Ms. Foster, your booking for our fake death service has been confirmed. The scheduled time is five days from now. At that time, we will provide you with a new identity.”

Five days. That’s our wedding day. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.

I dialed my college mentor’s number.

The moment he answered, his voice was filled with excitement.

“Nora! Are you finally planning to return for further studies? That’s wonderful news. Don’t let me down this time.”

Five years ago, I gave up my chance to study abroad to take care of Ryan after his car accident. I sacrificed everything for him—my dreams, my future.

Not this time.

I smiled faintly, my voice steady. “No, Teacher. Not this time.”

“Good. I’ll welcome you with open arms whenever you’re ready.”

I had just ended the call when a familiar voice reached my ears.

“Mr. Mitchell, you promised to give me the necklace. Why are you hesitating now?”

Ryan’s response was curt. “The necklace is for Nora. Stop causing trouble.”

I turned towards the source of the voices and saw them. Penelope’s gaze locked onto mine. A sly smirk danced on her lips before she provocatively leaned in and kissed Ryan, her lips pressing boldly against his.

The sight was a knife to my heart, twisting and tearing, leaving me breathless.

I wanted to scream, to demand answers, to ask why they were tormenting me like this.

But I didn’t.

My upbringing and pride held me back, reminding me to stay composed. Yet, the pain was unbearable, a wound that refused to heal as they flaunted their betrayal so blatantly.

I refused to let myself appear vulnerable in front of them.

Stumbling back into the auction hall, I felt as though I were sleepwalking.

After what felt like an eternity, Ryan finally returned. His tie, meticulously knotted when he left that morning, was now carelessly crooked.

When our eyes met, he hastily adjusted it, fumbling with guilt etched into every motion.

"It was a little hot just now," he muttered, avoiding my gaze.

Then, with a forced casualness, he added, "Nora, the necklace had a slight defect. I returned it. Don’t worry, I’ll get you something even better next time."

Before I could respond, Penelope appeared, as if summoned by fate to twist the knife.

The Eternal Heart necklace gleamed on her neck, its brilliance mocking me.

A bitter laugh echoed in my heart. Ryan, are lies all you have left?

“Nora,” Penelope began with a false sweetness, her tone dripping with condescension. “Can I take Mr. Mitchell’s car back to the company later?”

Her words were laced with pride, a thinly veiled jab.

I couldn’t bear another second in their presence. The air around them was suffocating, tainted with betrayal.

“Do whatever you want,” I said coldly and walked away, my steps hurried and unsteady.

In the bathroom, I splashed water on my face, trying to regain composure. The door creaked open behind me, and I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Penelope.

She sauntered in, her fingers deliberately playing with the necklace draped around her neck.

“Nora,” she sneered, her voice thick with arrogance. “Mr. Mitchell loves me now. He gave me this necklace to prove it. I’m the one who will stand by his side for life.”

Her words were sharp, each one a dagger aimed at my heart.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll disappear on your own,” she added smugly.

The “Eternal Heart” necklace—its meaning was clear: the one who wore it was destined to share a lifetime with their true love.

Once, I had cherished that thought, believing in its promise because of Ryan.

But now, neither the necklace nor the man who gave it mattered to me anymore.

I turned to her, my gaze cold, my voice steady. “If you want me to leave, have Ryan tell me himself. And if you’re so confident, why are you here, begging me to go? Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell him about this little display of yours?”

Her smirk faltered, and her face twisted with anger. “Hmph! I’m carrying Mr. Mitchell’s child. Soon, he won’t have any use for you,” she snapped, venom dripping from her words.

Satisfied with her parting shot, she stormed out, casting a hateful glare in my direction.

I turned back to the mirror, staring at the pale, tear-streaked face reflected there.

And then, I laughed.

It wasn’t a laugh of joy but of bitter realization, the kind that bubbles up when you finally understand the cruel irony of it all.

I laughed until my makeup was smudged and ruined.

Ten years of love, devotion, and sacrifice—all of it shattered like glass.

It’s time to wake up from this dream. Or rather, this nightmare disguised as love.

As I approached the car, I reached for the passenger door handle, but the window rolled down before I could open it.

Penelope’s face appeared, framed by the glass. She looked up at me with an expression of feigned weakness, her voice soft and fragile.

“Nora, I get carsick easily. Can you sit in the back?” she asked innocently.

Her words struck a nerve. “Every time I ride in Mr. Mitchell’s car, I sit in the passenger seat.”

It was an unspoken rule—a spot that had always been reserved for me. And now, Ryan had broken it.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my chest and turned to him. “Is this what you want too?”

Ryan hesitated for a moment before replying, “Well, Nora, Penelope really isn’t feeling well today. Please let her sit up front.”

Uncomfortable? Or just manipulating him?

My patience snapped. The anger I’d been suppressing boiled over, spilling into my words. “Ryan, either she gets out of the car, or I go back by myself. You decide.”

He stared at me, stunned by my defiance, unable to respond.

Just then, Penelope clutched her stomach dramatically and let out a soft moan. “Oh, Mr. Mitchell, my stomach suddenly hurts so much. Can you take me to the hospital?”

Her performance was flawless.

Ryan’s face filled with panic. “Nora, go back by yourself,” he said hurriedly, his focus already on her.

He reached for the ignition to start the car, but I wasn’t done.

Fueled by a mix of fury and desperation, I dashed in front of the vehicle, blocking its path with my arms spread wide.

Ryan slammed on the brakes, startled. “Nora! What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to die? Get out of the way!” he shouted, his voice raw with anger and disbelief.

“I won’t!” I yelled back, my voice trembling but resolute.

“She’s lying, Ryan. She’s not sick—she’s pretending! You can’t take her. I won’t let you.”

I stood firm, staring him down. “If you’re so determined to take her, then go ahead—drive over me!”