Chapter 2

"Wow! That's infuriating! You're his girlfriend, you're already engaged, and you're getting married soon! And he's off traveling with another woman, celebrating her birthday, taking her to a concert?"

Yolanda was so mad her two little pigtails looked ready to stand straight up, and it made me laugh all over again.

"You can still laugh? Millie, you've got some nerve staying this calm!"

After going through that near-death despair, I'd already seen it all clearly.

I didn't hold out any hope anymore.

"Yolanda, I don't want to marry him anymore. I want to break up with him! Do me a favor and put my flower shop up for transfer, would you?"

Yolanda froze, and seeing how serious I looked, she didn't dare say anything, just backed my decision all the way.

The next day the flower shop was listed, and plenty of people called to inquire.

I'd put a lot of effort into snagging that shop. Great location, heavy foot traffic, and the rent was very reasonable, so it was highly sought after.

I picked a suitable buyer from the callers, signed the transfer paperwork in a flash, and sold off the remaining stock in the store too.

Once everything was settled, it had only taken three days in all, yet it felt like ages had passed.

Mortimer still hadn't come back, hadn't sent me a single message or made a single call, but I still found out about him another way.

"Millie, look, Mortimer and Phoebe are all over the internet!"

Yolanda handed me her phone. The internet was full of video clips of him and Phoebe, and people were calling them "the most romantic lovers."

Videos and pictures were flying everywhere, all of him kneeling to propose to Phoebe, who was wearing a wedding dress, at the concert.

The big screen cut to them and gave them a full minute, capturing their proposal, their embrace, their kiss, their tears.

Under the comments, netizens with inside knowledge were explaining things too.

"Wow, this guy is handsome and rich! Don't tell me some people don't know that one minute of screen time costs extra?"

"Right, right, normal interaction at a concert only lasts three to five seconds. A full minute means you have to pay extra. I heard it's a thousand dollars a second."

"So that means this one minute cost six thousand dollars? This man is way too romantic. He let everyone witness how sincere he is."

...

The envious comments almost left me in a daze.

I thought back to when Mortimer proposed to me. All he used was a pull tab from a soda can.

I complained that he was too cheap, but he said love couldn't be measured in money, and that someday he'd swap that pull tab out for a diamond.

Now, comparing the two, I finally understood that I was simply worthless in his eyes.

Because Mortimer and Phoebe were both good-looking and kept their own personal accounts, they'd posted a lot of videos and photos about being childhood friends.

Netizens were all shipping them, calling them "the most romantic lovers" and wishing them a lifetime of happiness. They even said that if some naive, sweet little airhead dropped in and got between them, they'd be the first to object.

And I was the unluckiest one, that naive, sweet little airhead who dropped in.

So I didn't want to stay a fool any longer. I immediately sent a breakup message to Mortimer on every one of his social apps.

Finally, Mortimer replied.

Mortimer, who'd been gone for over a week, came back and brought me some merchandise and streamers he'd picked up outside the concert to smooth things over with me.

"Here, Millie, don't you like this singer too? I made a point of bringing back some concert stuff for you to use in your scrapbook."

The things were crumpled and shabby, shoved in front of me, as unpresentable as his sincerity.