01
The engagement party was in full swing, yet the groom was nowhere to be found. Everyone was waiting to see how this would blow up in my face.
As the last guest finally left, the smile I’d forced all night dissolved, leaving my face stiff and aching. Alone in the now–empty banquet hall, I stood there in my carefully chosen crimson gown, makeup smudged and streaked from the long night.
Ethan Monroe eventually arrived, late enough to be infuriating. The faint scent of perfume, not mine, clung to him like a guilty
secret.
He stepped forward, attempting to pull me into his arms, his voice low and coaxing. “I’m sorry, Cate. Something urgent came up at work, and I had to stay late.”
A terrible excuse. Who would dare make the head of Monroe Group work late on his own engagement night?
I didn’t call him out on it, though. I simply sidestepped his touch and replied flatly, “Oh, okay.” Then, grabbing my coat, I draped it over my shoulders and prepared to leave.
For a split second, a flicker of guilt flashed across Ethan’s face, so fleeting that I wondered if even he noticed it.
He laughed softly, reaching out to ruffle my hair as though I were a child. “Cate, are you mad?”
Before I could respond, he dropped to one knee, a ring suddenly in hand. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been late. Cate, don’t hold it against me.”
Holding the ring up, he smiled, the kind of smile that had charmed me for seven years. “Here, isn’t this the ring you love so much? Let me propose to you properly again. Marry me, Cate.”
Ethan had always been devastatingly handsome, and when he spoke to someone with that velvety warmth, it was hard not to drown in the glow of his gaze.
For a moment, I froze. Once, I would have been swept away by this. Once, I had been.
But as I looked at the ring in his hand, I noticed something strange… It wasn’t my size. I didn’t recognize it at all.
My mind blurred, Ethan’s face in the present overlapping with the memory of him at twenty. Back then, he had knelt in the
same way, holding up a makeshift ring made from a soda can’s pull tab, promising he would marry me someday.
Now, the pull tab had been replaced with a diamond–encrusted band worth a small fortune. But this time, all I felt was
exhaustion, bone–deep weariness that made even speaking feel like a chore.
I pushed his hand away and wrapped my coat tighter around myself. Then I turned and headed for the exit.
Ethan followed me, irritation now clear on his face. “Catherine, I’m giving you an out here. What more do you want?”
The wind outside was brisk, scattering the lingering scent of unfamiliar perfume clinging to his suit.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I pulled out my phone and opened Vanessa Lane’s Instagram.
She had posted a photo earlier tonight: her nestled against Ethan’s chest, the two of them gazing up at a sky filled with
fireworks.
The caption read, “Watching fireworks with my boss.”
In the photo, Ethan was wearing the same suit I had carefully ironed for him that morning, blissfully unaware of how my heart
had brimmed with happiness back then, anticipating this night.
I held the phone up to Ethan, my voice eerily calm as the emotions I’d buried all evening finally broke free.
“Why today?” A simple question, no context given, but he understood.
After a moment of silence, he sighed and answered, “Because Nessa would’ve been happy knowing I chose her over you on a
day that’s so important to you.”
The words landed like a slap. But Ethan continued, oblivious to the weight of them, “But, Catherine, I promise, this won’t
happen again. I only see Nessa as a little sister. Her depression was acting up, and she was crying so hard she couldn’t breathe. I just wanted to make her feel better.”
He paused and then added, “She’s just a young girl, new to all this. I can’t just leave her to fend for herself. Don’t be like this. The engagement party doesn’t matter. We’ll go straight to the wedding.”
I smiled faintly. “You’re right.”
11:58 AM
Seven years together, and he called me Catherine. Three months with Vanessa, and she was already “Nessa.”
It was clear who mattered more to him.
Ethan was too busy justifying himself to notice the slip in his tone or the nicknames.
When he saw my sudden smile, he seemed startled, reaching out to grab my hand. His voice was softer now, pleading. “It won’t happen again, Cate. Let’s go home.”
I followed him into the car, letting him chatter away, alternating between apologies and promises to make it up to me. I barely responded, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past.
later.
As we neared home, his phone buzzed. The caller ID flashed for a moment, Babe Nessa.
I glanced at him, but he quickly hit decline, muttering, “Spam call.”
I nodded, saying nothing, and leaned back into my seat with my eyes closed.
His phone buzzed again moments later. This time, Ethan pulled over, parking the car by the curb.
“Cate, something’s come up at work. You’ll have to take a cab home. Be good and wait for me. I’ll bring you something to eat
I didn’t bother arguing. I stepped out of the car and shut the door behind me, watching as he drove off in the opposite direction
of his office.
Opening my phone again, I saw Vanessa had updated her Instagram just ten minutes ago.
This time, it was a close–up of a ring on her finger. The caption read, “His first pick was hideous, but at least he got it right the
second time. Guess he’s learning!”
The comments were full of jokes from Ethan’s friends.
Friend 1: [Ethan’s getting romantic, huh?]
Friend 2: [Yeah, that first ring looked awful. Good thing he upgraded!]
A cold gust of wind cut through me, but I hardly noticed. I laughed quietly, feeling oddly relieved. Even the ring meant for me had been a castoff, something Vanessa had rejected.
Seven years of love, and he’d already given his heart away to someone else.
Love often resembled fragile glass. Once cracked, it demanded blind endurance, drawing blood with every attempt to hold it together. But that glass no longer deserved a second glance. It only evoked revulsion.
When I got home, I began packing my things.
That was when I found it, a pink lace bra tucked between the couch cushions.
The perfume on it matched the one clinging to Ethan earlier.
Calmly, I zipped up my suitcase and made a call.
“Professor Lewis,” I said evenly. “The wedding is off. I’d like to join the overseas research program.”
