Chapter 3

She froze. Her eyes darted away, completely unable to hold my gaze.

After what felt like an eternity, she forced a tight, awkward smile.

"Leo, you know how I feel about this. I'm just not ready for marriage. The company just went public, and there's so much to deal with..."

The answer was painfully obvious. I had set myself up for the humiliation.

I masked the chill running through my veins with a bitter chuckle.

"I know. Just a joke," I cut her off, not wanting to hear the same rehearsed excuses.

It wasn't that she didn't want to get married. She just didn't want to marry *me*.

The realization felt like a dull blade sawing through my chest over and over again.

I should have seen it long ago.

The way she always refused to take photos with me. The way she never introduced me to her family. The way she insisted on calling me her assistant in front of everyone.

The breadcrumbs had always been there. I had simply chosen to be blind.

"So, what do you actually want?"

She seemed visibly relieved, rushing to add, "More equity? A massive bonus? Name it, anything."

I shook my head. "We'll talk when you get back."

I walked into the bedroom and began packing luggage.

Her suitcase, and mine.

My phone chimed with back-to-back texts. Unsurprisingly, it was Julian.

*Leo, Chloe's leaving tomorrow. Make sure you pack the new outfits I bought her today.*

*Pretty good taste, right? She looks ten years younger in them.*

*You know, maybe you should leave buying clothes for your boss to me from now on. You're clearly not as capable as they say—at least when it comes to keeping a woman.*

Almost all of Chloe's wardrobe over the years had been styled and bought by me.

Sure enough, opening the closet, I saw several brand-new designer pieces.

In the pocket of one of the coats, my fingers brushed against an unopened box of condoms.

I knew Julian had orchestrated this just for me to find. A petty victory lap.

I didn't take the bait. I simply blocked his number.

Then, I went back to packing the last of my belongings.

Seven whole years, and my possessions were shockingly sparse. Everything fit into a single duffel bag and a carry-on suitcase.

Just like my place in Chloe's life—easily erased in minutes.

My hands paused when I reached the few custom suits she had bought for me.

Last year, right before our annual company gala, she had actually taken the time to accompany me to a fitting.

"Leo, you look really handsome in this," she had said with a warm smile, stepping in to adjust my tie with her own hands.

Looking back, it was nothing more than an executive throwing a bone to her most valuable subordinate.

It had nothing to do with the tenderness I had imagined.

Just as I zipped up my suitcase, her voice drifted in from the study down the hall. She was on a phone call.

"Chloe, are you seriously going to propose to Julian tomorrow? What about Leo? Can you really just let him go?"

"Of course I can't. That's why I need all of you to keep your mouths shut. Don't let him find out."

"Look at you, having your cake and eating it too. Holding onto your first love while keeping your reliable workhorse on a leash."

"He's not a workhorse, but he doesn't compare to Julian. Besides, he'd never leave me."

...

My feet felt glued to the floorboards.

I stood there, listening to the woman I had loved for a decade dismiss my entire existence with casual arrogance.

No affection. Just pure convenience and condescension.

She talked for a long time, and I listened to every word.

Each syllable carved into my chest until the pain turned entirely numb.

An old photo slipped out from a book on my nightstand.

It was from college. I was standing next to Chloe, grinning like an idiot.

Her eyes, however, were staring past the camera lens, searching for something in the distance.

Now I knew. She was looking for Julian.

Even back when Julian was studying abroad, even when I stayed by her side through every tear and every struggle...

Not for a single second had her heart ever belonged to me.

I tossed the photograph into the trash can.

Along with seven years of my youth and my devotion.

The next morning, when I woke up, Chloe was already gone.

On the dining table lay a post-it note: *Leo, wait for me to come home.*

I picked up the note, crumpled it into a tight ball, and dropped it into the wastebasket.

Grabbing the handle of my suitcase, I stood by the front door and took one final look around the space we had shared.

From a cramped studio apartment to this luxury penthouse, I had genuinely believed we were building a home together step by step.

Only now did I realize it had been my solitary delusion all along.

My phone lit up with a text from Chloe.

*Leo, I left the client's gift on the nightstand. Find it and courier it to this address, please.*

I didn't need to check to know she was talking about that diamond ring.

I called an express courier to deliver the ring to her destination. Then, I hailed an Uber to the airport.

On the highway, I sent Chloe one final text:

*Chloe, we're done. Let's break up.*