Chapter 3
“You’ve got it all wrong, I’m not-”
Before I could finish, Zachary waved me off, cutting me short.
“I’m busy. I’ll be going now. A word of advice–stop pulling these stunts to wear down what’s left of my feelings for you.”
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the house in complete silence.
For a long time, I stood there, unmoving, and then let out a bitter laugh.
Zachary, how much of your so–called feelings for me are even left? What’s there to wear down anymore?
In the past, a misunderstanding like this would have left me devastated, unable to eat or sleep. But now, I quickly pulled myself together.
I went back to reviewing the wedding details my mom had sent over.
Before closing my messages, I instinctively clicked on the notification dot in my social media app. That’s when I saw it–a rare update from Zachary.
“When someone this amazing comes into your life, you marry them and keep them close.”
The photo was a solo shot of Aria, along with an image of their wedding invitation.
Within minutes, one of our mutual friends commented:
“Bro, so you’ve already swapped out the bride? That was fast.”
<
Not long after, Zachary’s post disappeared.
But it reappeared almost immediately on Aria’s Instagram feed instead.
Then my phone rang.
If this had been the past, I would’ve immediately screenshot the post, called him up, and demanded answers. No argument would have ended without a screaming match.
But this time, I let the call ring out. And then ring again.
I didn’t answer, not even once.
What surprised me the most was that I didn’t feel particularly upset by what I’d just seen. Maybe I’d grown numb.
My first thought wasn’t anger or heartbreak–it was mild amusement at the coincidence.
Their wedding was scheduled for the same day as mine.
When Zachary finally came home that night, I was already in bed, pretending to sleep.
He tiptoed into the room and stopped by my bedside.
“Natalie? Are you awake? I tried calling you–why didn’t you answer?”
I kept my back to him, my voice muffled and indifferent. “I must’ve fallen asleep. Didn’t hear it.”
He sighed in relief and leaned down, reaching out to feel my forehead. “Is your fever gone?”
But as he got closer, the cloying scent of women’s perfume–sweet and heavy–hit me like a punch. My stomach churned, and I had to fight the
urge to gag.
Without thinking, I shifted away from him, dodging his hand.
He froze, his hand suspended awkwardly in mid–air.
“Natalie,” he asked cautiously, “Did you see something?”
I buried myself deeper into the blankets, muffling my voice. “No. I’m just not feeling well. I want to sleep.”
1 slept through the night and woke up feeling lighter, like a weight had been lifted.
With a clear head, I started packing up my things, systematically erasing every trace of myself from this house.
That’s when I realized how many little “couple’s” items I’d bought over the years.
At first, Zachary would use them with me. But at some point, without me noticing, he’d stopped. Most of those things had been shoved into some corner, collecting dust.
I packed them all into a box and dumped it in the trash.
Then I found something else–an old scrapbook.
It was filled with photos of our trips together, postcards we’d collected, train tickets from when we were long–distance, and letters he’d written
to me.
The entire scrapbook was a record of our years together.
But after Aria came into the picture, the pages had stopped being filled. There were no more photos, no new memories to add.
By the time Zachary came home, I was tossing the scrapbook into the fireplace.
He rushed in like a madman, pulling the burning book out of the flames with his bare hands.
3:15 PM
<
Ignoring the burns on his fingers, he turned to me, furious.
“Are you insane? Do you have any idea how important this scrapbook is to us? Why would you burn it!?”
Zachary rarely ever raised his voice at me. This was the first time he’d spoken to me like this.
His anger looked genuine, but so was the fact that he was planning to marry someone else behind my back.
I didn’t want to argue with him, so I casually replied, “The scrapbook had gotten moldy and infested with bugs. Don’t worry–I’ve backed up all the photos and mementos. I’ll make a new one eventually.”
Hearing this, his anger finally subsided.
Later, as I applied ointment to his burn, Zachary stared at me with an intensity I couldn’t quite place.
“Natalie,” he said suddenly, “You’ve seemed off lately. Is work stressing you out? I’ve booked you a personalized vacation package. Take some
time off to relax.”
