After Eight Years of Dating, I Ran Away From Marriage

On the way home, Vito’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Lula was blowing up his inbox, asking if he’d made it home safely. I unlocked his phone, planning to reply politely, but then something caught my eye—a string of messages between him and his friends. I couldn’t help but read them.

[This is my last shot. If she doesn’t come back after hearing I’m getting married, I’m really giving up. You can post about it in our school group chat, but don’t tell them that it’s fake.]

I froze, my fingers gripping the phone tightly. My heart pounded in my chest as I locked the screen, trying to process what I’d just seen. It felt like someone had knocked the air out of me. No matter how hard I tried to breathe, my chest stayed tight, the oxygen refusing to fill my lungs. Tears blurred my vision, spilling down my cheeks.

It all made sense now. His sudden proposal three days ago, without any talk about a home, a future, or anything substantial. No ring, no conversation about a venue or even the simplest details like a dowry. His only request was that I keep everything a secret from my family.

I’d assumed it was because he was finally feeling guilty for not showing enough attention, that maybe my patience had finally gotten through to him after all these years. But I was wrong. 

The proposal, something I had longed for after eight years of dating, wasn’t out of love. It was bait—nothing more than a lure to get Lula to come back from wherever she was. The trust I had clung to for so long had finally run dry. All the doubts I’d had about us, about him, were now glaring truths. I was shattered, but there was nothing I could do but comfort myself with the decision I had already made. I was leaving, and once I walked away, nothing about them—about this—would ever bother me again.

When we got home, Vito, still a little drunk, headed straight for the shower without saying a word. I went to the kitchen and made some honey water for him, just the way Lula had told me. Three more days. That’s all I had left to endure—just three more days. I wasn’t going to leave this relationship with any regrets.

I carried the honey water over to the couch and sat down, letting out a long breath. Not long after, my phone rang. It was Mr. Greer, my boss. He asked if I could finish up the remaining work before my departure and I agreed, hanging up quickly.

“Where are you going?” Vito’s voice came from behind me, sounding annoyed. He was rubbing a towel through his wet hair, watching me with a cold, blank expression.

“Just… business trip,” I replied calmly, handing him the honey water.

He didn’t respond, just took the cup from me. He didn’t seem interested in why I was leaving or where I was going. Either he didn’t think it mattered, or maybe, deep down, he really just didn’t care at all. He took one sip of the honey water and immediately spat it back out, glaring at me.

“Honey water? Seriously? Do you really think that’s good for a hangover? You probably read that online, didn’t you? Just because a lot of people say it works doesn’t mean everyone likes it.” He grumbled, slamming the cup down on the table and storming off to the bedroom, looking irritated. I let out a bitter laugh. Constance, you’re an idiot! How stupid could I be, trusting advice from the woman who once had been his lover?

The next morning was our pre-wedding photoshoot. Vito woke up like nothing had happened, treating me with the same cold indifference as always. After seeing how affectionate he’d been toward Lula last night, I could no longer believe that it was his nature. I just couldn’t understand how I had put up with it for so long.

As we finished breakfast, he glanced at his phone. “Let’s take the photos at the old school instead of the park. School-themed shoots are really popular lately,” he said abruptly. 

I paused, mid-way through clearing the table. “Your call,” I replied flatly. “I’m fine with anything. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

I knew why he had changed his mind so suddenly. That morning, Lula had posted a photo on WhatsApp, saying she missed our old school and was thinking about visiting it. The connection was obvious. But I didn’t bother arguing or pointing out the obvious lie he was weaving right in front of my face. I wasn’t going to humiliate myself, especially with the relationship about to end. Only a day and a half left before I left the country, and I wanted to leave with my dignity intact.

Before we left the house, I already knew how the day was going to play out, so I deliberately chose a simple wedding dress, something that would make it easier to move around in.

The photographer took us to the playground area. Throughout the shoot, the photographer kept directing us on how to pose, but Vito wasn’t paying attention. He kept glancing around like he was searching for something—or someone. It wasn’t long before I saw the familiar figure emerge from the other side of the trees.

Without a word, without even glancing back at me, Vito rushed over to her, leaving me standing there, forgotten. The photographer looked bewildered, unsure of what to do. I forced a small, awkward smile, turning to him with a resigned sigh.

Without a word, without even glancing back at me, Vito rushed over to her, leaving me standing there, forgotten. The photographer looked bewildered, unsure of what to do. I forced a small, awkward smile.

“I’m really sorry for the trouble. Let’s wrap it up. We’ll still pay you as agreed,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, polite.

The photographer hesitated, looking between me and Vito disappearing into the distance with Lula, clearly unsure of how to handle the situation. But I didn’t wait for him to respond. I simply gathered the train of my dress and walked to them.