After He Chose His Mistress I Became His Rival's Star

As my client was getting a little too friendly, Nasir Bradley was enjoying a glass of wine with his assistant nearby. Trying to keep the client happy, I ended up drinking more than I should have and felt on the verge of passing out. Yet Nasir didn’t so much as glance at me; he was too busy picking the olives out of his assistant’s dish, encouraging her to eat. After dinner, the assistant remarked that it had been dull, which was all Nasir needed to hear before pulling over and practically pushing me out of the car to take her to the next event.

“This young lady has been working hard lately; I'm just taking her out for some fun,” Nasir said dismissively. “You probably wouldn't understand what the younger crowd is into these days, so it’s best if you don’t come along. Besides, I’m going to make sure she has a great time tonight; we can talk about the marriage license another time.”

For five years, Nasir had canceled our wedding plans ninety-nine times. I nodded. If he was always busy, there was really no point in going through with it.

From the slightly open passenger window, Leah Palmer stuck out her tongue apologetically, "Sorry, Christina, Nasir's just spoiling me a bit. When he's back, I'll make sure he brings you some late-night treats!"

I hadn’t responded yet when Nasir chuckled and gently patted her on the head. "Kid, you're such a foodie; you think everyone else is too, huh? Don't bother her with dessert; we don't need any food poisoning drama. I’m not up for theatrics."

So he had seen me struggling earlier but thought I was pretending out of envy. In the past, I would’ve broken down, tried to explain, maybe even argued. This time, I simply said, “Alright, have fun.”

Nasir paused, then smirked, “Don’t cause any trouble.”

The car sped off, and before leaving, Nasir lowered all the windows for Leah, worried she might feel stifled. I often got carsick, especially when riding with Nasir, but he never lowered the windows for me. "The wind brings dust into the car. Can you stop being so fussy?" he’d say.

I knew what I needed to do and took off my engagement ring, tossing it into the dark river.

The next morning, I went to the symphony early to hand over my responsibilities. Ever since Nasir’s debut as a piano prodigy, I had been his agent. “You're resigning? Does Nasir know?” the boss asked, stunned.

“He’ll find out once the new agent is in place,” I replied, leaving the office and heading to the concert hall. I bumped into Nasir, who was in a fresh shirt, smelling of shower gel. He rotated his wrist, glancing down at me.

“I didn’t drive home after drinking too much last night. I rented a room to rest instead,” he explained. It was the first time in ten years Nasir had offered an explanation.

I nodded, remaining silent.

“So, any last-minute tasks this morning?” he asked, unsure.

I looked at him, recalling how after each dinner, I would wake at five or six to prepare a spread of hangover remedies and comfort food for him. Since Nasir’s debut at eighteen, that had been the routine, so my absence this morning probably puzzled him. I just nodded, “Something like that.”

Just as I was about to leave, Nasir’s brow furrowed, and his expression hardened as he grabbed my hand. “Christina Matthews, enough is enough. It’s just a change of date; it’s not like we’re not getting married. Don’t be so melodramatic!”

But I wasn’t overreacting; I genuinely had no desire to marry him. It was time to clear things up, and as I was about to respond, I heard an exasperatingly sweet voice interject.

“Nasir! It’s all your fault! The stuff you got for me this morning isn’t the right size at all! It’s not good enough for daily use. You’re such a typical guy!”