02

2

The sender's avatar bore an uncanny resemblance to Denver's—as if they were part of a matching set for lovers.

"I've heard Denver found a cheap imitation of me. That must be you, right? I'm looking forward to seeing your face tomorrow when you finally meet me in person," the cruel message read, each word piercing my heart like sharp daggers.

I chose not to respond.

Instead, I turned to my boss with resolute determination. "I'm canceling the wedding. My job takes precedence. He's not worth giving up everything I've worked so hard to achieve."

My boss nodded, a knowing grin on her face. "That's the Foley I'm familiar with. You've never been one to center your life around a man. I'll send you the agreement tomorrow—be prepared to leave in five days!"

Her words stirred a whirlwind of emotions within me.

There was a time when I was ready to settle down, to build a future with Denver. But now, he had crushed my love and my heart. If that's how things were, I wouldn't hesitate to move on either.

When I went back to the private room, Denver had sobered up somewhat and everyone else was getting ready to leave.

Denver instinctively reached for my hand, but as his fingers touched my chilly skin, he frowned. Without saying anything, he poured me a cup of warm water.

"Your hands are ice-cold. Why didn't you dress more warmly? You're old enough to take better care of yourself."

"I forgot. I was going to get you some hangover remedy, but all the nearby stores were closed."

As usual, the people around us teased us about how close Denver and I were. But this time, their laughter seemed tinged with derision. On the ride home, silence hung between Denver and me.

He appeared to be in high spirits, constantly checking his phone, his face lighting up with a smile I'd never seen before. I went to bed with a heavy heart, tossing and turning all night. When I finally dozed off, I was startled awake at dawn by Denver.

"Go to the market early and buy some fresh ingredients. We have important guests coming over today."

The abrupt wake-up call left me with a throbbing headache.

Denver didn't notice my discomfort; he was too preoccupied with adjusting his tie in the mirror. Then he left without a backward glance, only tossing a final remark over his shoulder. "Make sure the house is immaculate," he called out as he walked out the door. "Oh and no spicy food."

Watching him leave, I laughed bitterly.

For years, Denver would carefully remove the chili peppers from our meals. To avoid wasting his efforts, I—a Northerner who grew up adoring spicy food—forced myself to adapt to his preferences. Now, I realized that even this small habit of his originated from Sabrina. Getting out of bed, I crossed out the "wedding photoshoot" from our shared calendar and replaced it with a countdown to my departure. Then, I started packing.

Opening the closet, I saw the presents Denver had lavished on me—brand-new Hermès bags, an assortment of stylish pastel dresses and stuffed animals. The sickly sweet pinks clashed with my usual monochrome style.

Pausing, I reopened Sabrina's social media profile. Sure enough, every single item Denver had given me matched something she owned.

Scrolling through her posts, Denver's figure appeared frequently—in photos of them wandering beneath the Eiffel Tower, lounging on Maldivian beaches.

My birthday. Our anniversary. Valentine's Day.

At her slightest request, Denver would board a plane, flying across continents to be with her.

"So this is what you called urgent work matters, huh?" I muttered, swallowing the bitter lump in my throat.

I held back tears, gathering everything Denver had ever given me—along with the wedding supplies we had just purchased—and threw it all in the garbage.

By the time I finished, the sun was high overhead.