After Seven Years, I Chose Leave, He Begged Too Late

My paycheck hit while I was sitting in my rented room eating instant noodles.

Same as every month, I transferred five thousand into the bank account Drew and I shared.

One more deposit. One step closer to our own place—a home, a wedding, a life.

Melinda Pruitt grinned at me from across the table.

"God, Willow Fox, you're so cheap. You never buy yourself anything."

"It's worth it if we can buy a place sooner. A little scrimping won't kill me."

A second later, Melinda shrieked.

"Holy shit, this Young Mr. Simmons is loaded! He rented out all of Disneyland for his fiancée's birthday!"

She shoved her phone in my face. The chopsticks stopped halfway to my mouth, and something in my chest seized.

That silhouette looked a lot like Drew.

"Willow, let's go check it out! I heard they're giving away cash gifts too."

Before I could argue, Melinda was already dragging me out the door.

Drones hung in the sky, their lights spelling out two names: Drew Simmons. Zelda Harding.

It couldn't be. Plenty of people shared the same name. It had to be a coincidence.

Then a kiss flashed across the giant screen, and the air left my lungs.

The man I'd loved for seven years was kissing another woman.

1

I stared at the screen. My fists clenched so tight my nails cut into my palms.

Melinda's grin froze the instant she recognized his face.

"Hold on—Willow, that guy looks just like your boyfriend."

I couldn't speak. I just kept staring at those names, and Melinda followed my gaze.

"No way. That's not actually him, is it?"

"He's a junior clerk. How is he suddenly Harbor City royalty?"

"Willow, what the hell is going on?"

I didn't know either. Just yesterday he'd been worrying about rent and the electric bill.

The screen began cycling through photos of Drew and Zelda together.

Kindergarten. Elementary school. Middle school. A high school abroad. College.

Photos I'd never seen, every single one dripping with money.

The last image lingered: Zelda in a princess gown, cutting a cake beside Drew.

Matching rings on their left hands. I recognized the brand from television. Luxury I couldn't name a price for.

On screen, Drew's eyes were soft, full of tenderness, and they were only on Zelda.

Pain ripped through my chest and all the blood in my body rushed to my head.

I shoved through the crowd like a woman possessed, fighting my way toward the front. I needed to hear the truth from his mouth.

I barely made it a few steps before I saw them descending the staircase together, hand in hand.

A golden couple. The kind everyone envied.

"Wow, a real power match! They look incredible together!"

"That face of hers could stop traffic. No wonder Young Mr. Simmons is throwing money around like this."

Voices swirled around me, every one of them marveling at how perfectly they fit.

I looked down at myself. Jeans washed so many times the color had bled out. A twenty-yuan t-shirt. Worlds apart.

Drew's gaze swept the crowd. The moment it landed on me, something panicked flickered in his eyes, there and gone in a heartbeat.

Then he lifted Zelda's hand, tilting it just enough to let the matching ring catch the light.

"Today is Zelda's birthday, and a day worth celebrating for another reason."

He placed both hands on her stomach.

"Zelda is carrying our child. I'm going to give her the wedding she deserves."

My mind went blank. The noise, the crowd, everything around me seemed to stop.

All I could see was Drew with his arms around Zelda, and I forgot how to breathe.

I don't know how long I stood there before I came back to myself.

I lunged forward, half-crazed, and a wall of bodyguards blocked me.

"Drew Simmons, what about me?"

I screamed it, nearly howling, my voice shredded with fury and the raw pain of betrayal.

But the cheering was too loud, the fireworks shaking every corner of the park, and no one heard me. No one saw the tears sliding down my face.

I don't remember how I got home. All I know is Melinda had to half-carry me back.

The cup of noodles was still on the table. Cold broth. Bloated, shapeless noodles.

I looked at it and started laughing.

My phone buzzed. A familiar profile picture. A message:

"Let's meet tomorrow so I can explain. Get some rest."

I didn't sleep that night.

Drew's hands on Zelda's stomach kept playing behind my eyes, over and over. That wasn't staged.

I dragged myself out of bed and searched for everything I could find on Simmons Technologies.

In a blurry old photo, I finally saw him. Teenage Drew, unmistakable.

The only son of Harbor City's richest family—and he'd spent seven years pretending to be poor right beside me.

I picked up my phone and blocked him.