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Q A
While packing my things, I found the pottery mug Carter Delaney and I had made together.
It was shattered and thrown into the trash.
He had once said he loved that mug, even if it wasn’t perfect.
After all, it held memories of us.
“How did it break?” I asked.
He replied casually, “It broke by accident.”
I smiled faintly. His lies weren’t even convincing anymore.
That mug had been carefully stored in his home office. The odds of it “accidentally” breaking were slim to none.
Clearly, someone had done it deliberately.
I sighed.
It was already broken–what was the point of regretting it?
“Skylar Quinn, how many times do I have to tell you not to leave your clothes lying around?”
He frowned, holding up a lacy bra with a look of irritation.
“It’s not mine,” I said evenly, glancing at it.
I never wore that kind of lingerie, and Carter knew it.
Realizing his mistake, he quickly hid it behind his back, suddenly flustered. “Oh… I remember now. I bought it for you, but the size was wrong. I meant to throw it out.”
His excuse was clumsy, but it wasn’t worth my energy to expose it.
18:04 Thu, Nov 28
BK 66%
Q
His excuse was clumsy, but it wasn’t worth my energy to expose it.
“Okay.”
I replied lightly, not even pretending to care.
about |
Thinking he’d smoothed things over, Carter reached for my hand and sa take you to try on wedding dresses tomorrow? I’ll buy you that one you’ve a….ys loved.”
“And don’t worry about the ring we lost–I’ll get you a new
w one.””
For all our nine engagement attempts, I’d been the one planning everything.
He never lifted a finger, so leaving me high and dry hadn’t cost him a shred of guilt.
Even his friends had teased him.
“Man, don’t you know how to treat a lady? If you keep pulling stunts like this, aren’t you afraid Skylar will leave you?”
He’d just laughed.
“She won’t leave me. I could ditch her ninety–nine times, and she’d still come crawling
back.”
He wasn’t wrong.
For nine years, I’d been the one begging for his love, always willing to forgive him.
I had loved him recklessly, completely, losing myself in the process.
But even the brightest youth fades.
And when the pile of disappointments grows high enough, it becomes impossible to take
even one more step.
Not even for the wedding dress I used to dream about.
1804 Thu. Nov 28
Not even for the wedding dress I used to dream about.
Q A
Years ago, I’d clung to him, saying, “When your company stabilizes, can we get married? Let’s get that dress, okay?”
Back then, his eyes had sparkled as he promised me the world.
Now, I couldn’t care less.
Even when I saw Brielle Stokes wearing the dress I once adored, I felt nothing.
“Skylar, I’ve never worn a wedding dress before. Trying on yours shouldn’t be a problem,
right?”
Her eyes were wide and innocent, but there was a flicker of challenge in her gaze.
“It’s not mine,” I replied flatly. “No need to ask me.”
Carter stiffened, scrambling to explain.
“Brielle’s just here to congratulate us. She’s only trying it on for fun–don’t be mad.”
I smiled indifferently. “I don’t mind. Why don’t you have her try the ring too?”
I checked my watch, silently calculating how long the movers would need.
By now, my things–just nine boxes of clothes, jewelry, and dusty art supplies–should’ve been packed and gone.
Nine years, reduced to nine boxes.
“Skylar, you’ve gotten so sensible lately,” Carter remarked, looking pleased.
To him, being “sensible” meant not getting jealous, not complaining, and tolerating his flirtations with other women.
His eyes glinted with approval.
“I’m so relieved. The Skylar I love is back.
18:04 Thu, Nov 28
