Chapter 1

Everyone knew Ethan Wright was a rigid, boring man.

But during our three years of dating, he wrote me a love letter every single month.

I treasured those letters like gold. They were the only reason I forgave him for missing countless birthdays and anniversaries.

Even when he stood me up to tend to his childhood best friend, Isla, I let it slide.

I used the line from his letters—"My heart is always with you"—to comfort myself.

Until a week before our wedding, when I used his laptop to design our invitations.

A ChatGPT tab popped up on his browser.

"My girlfriend is mad because I skipped her wedding dress fitting. Write a 500-word love letter. Make it passionate and deep."

I scrolled up.

Three years. Thirty-six entries. Thirty-six copy-pastes.

At the exact same time, Isla posted on her Instagram.

"The paper stars my silly boy folded are so messy, but I absolutely love the words written inside each one."

It turned out he wasn't incapable of putting in effort. He just didn't want to use it on me.

Ethan, keep those AI-generated sweet words to fool your next victim.

"Why are you still up? Didn't I tell you to go to the fitting alone?"

The study door opened, and Ethan walked in.

I let go of the mouse, quickly hiding the ChatGPT tab.

Only the unfinished digital wedding invitation remained on the screen.

"Just finishing the invitations."

Ethan walked over and placed a chic paper bag on the desk.

"A pipe burst at Isla's apartment. She was crying hysterically, and she's all alone in the city. I had to go help her."

"Brought this for you on the way back."

Ethan reached out to ruffle my hair, a habit of his. I tilted my head to avoid it.

His hand froze in mid-air.

"Don't be childish."

"I'll clear my schedule tomorrow to help you choose the dress, okay?"

I pulled the bag closer. Inside were pistachio macarons.

"Thanks."

Ethan smiled, satisfied.

"How are the invitations coming along?"

"Almost done."

I pushed the macarons aside.

Eating pistachios would send me to the ER with severe hives. I had told him this for three years, yet he never remembered.

But Isla loved them.

"You must be tired from the fitting today, right?"

Ethan took my hand. His voice was deep and steady, the exact tone I used to crave.

"Chloe, I know I've let you down lately."

"But my heart is always with you. No matter how busy I am, you are my ultimate home."

I had read that exact sentence just five minutes ago in the AI chat history.

The prompt he used was: "I missed my fiancée's dress fitting. Write a comforting sentence to make her feel like she's my one and only."

I stared at the handsome, sophisticated man in front of me.

For three years, I thought he was just a typical, unromantic guy who was too focused on his career.

I had survived on those monthly "love letters."

During the lonely nights he spent with Isla, I had read those words over and over again.

"Why do you look so pale?"

Ethan reached out to touch my forehead.

"It's nothing. Just tired."

I brushed his hand away.

Ethan sighed.

"Chloe, you're about to be a wife."

"Isla is like a sister to me. I can't just ignore her when she's in trouble. Stop picking fights over a young girl."

In the past, I would have cried and demanded to know who his actual fiancée was.

Now, I just felt exhausted.

"I get it."

Ethan smiled, pleased with my "maturity."

"Get some sleep. I have an early meeting tomorrow."

He walked out. I opened the hidden browser tab again and scrolled further up.

Year One Anniversary: "My girlfriend thinks I'm not romantic. Write a 300-word poem about the starry night and eternity."

Year Two Birthday: "Forgot to buy a birthday gift. Write an apology letter emphasizing that emotional connection is more important than material things."

My phone buzzed. It was a Snapchat from Isla.

It was a photo of a glass jar filled with hand-folded paper stars. The ink on the paper bled through the edges.

Her caption read: "The paper stars my silly boy folded are so messy, but I absolutely love the words written inside each one."

I saved the screenshot, shut down the computer, and pulled out my flash drive.