Fiancée for Seven Years, Left for His Ex

One month before the wedding, Jason's ex-girlfriend sent him her 'final wishlist.'

To fulfill her wishes, Jason Reed went bungee jumping, skiing, visiting Iceland to see the Northern Lights, and even taking wedding photos—posting them proudly on social media.

The caption read:

[Although it’s been many years, I’ve finally made it. I fulfilled her last dream. No regrets in this life.]

I liked the post—then my phone rang.

It was Jason, and he was furious.

"Can’t you be a little more considerate? Do you realize what time it is? Are you still making a fuss about this? Ava’s dying and I’m just trying to help her fulfill some wishes. Can’t you understand that?"

I rolled my eyes, but he didn’t stop there.

"Let’s postpone the wedding," he added like it was the most logical solution.

But what he didn’t know—what he couldn’t know—was that Ava wasn’t dying at all. I knew for a fact that she was faking it.

Later, on the wedding day, my neighbor, the one who had secretly loved me for years—held a grand wedding abroad and live-streamed it for the world to see.

Chase Thompson, with red eyes and a trembling voice, confronted me. "Are you really going to give up our seven years for him?"

I gave him a look that could cut glass. "I’m just helping my brother fulfill some wishes. Can you understand that?"

——

Emma's POV

"I'm making a big deal out of this? Jason, which eye of yours saw me making a fuss? I just accidentally liked the post. Is it really necessary to start a confrontation over it?"

I tried to keep my voice steady, but the anger was bubbling beneath the surface.

On the other end of the phone, Jason's voice sounded exhausted and irritated. "I...you know I don’t have time for this right now. Ava’s not well, and her emotions are all over the place. I need to be by her side."

"Oh, she’s dying? How tragic," I interrupted, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Should I send over flowers or maybe visit her in her ‘final moments’ to see her frail little body?"

"Emma! How can you say that? Ava, she..." Jason tried to explain, but I cut him off.

"She, she, she—bullshit! Jason, wake up! Ava isn’t sick! She’s just playing the victim for sympathy, and you’re falling for it—hook, line, and sinker!" My voice was shaking with rage now.

There was silence on the other end of the line. I could almost see Jason scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration.

He was probably regretting calling me right now—probably adding even more stress to his already chaotic situation.

"Emma, what the hell is wrong with you? You’ve never been like this before! Ava’s dying, and you're still making sarcastic comments?"

And then, as if his words had been pre-rehearsed, he added, "We should postpone the wedding."

Before I could respond, the line went dead.

The busy tone echoed in my ears as I gripped the phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

My entire body trembled with the shock, the weight of the moment sinking in.

Without even thinking, I glanced over at the photo sitting on the table.

It was a picture from when I was seventeen. My high ponytail bounced in the sunlight, my school uniform crisp and clean, and my smile bright as ever.

Next to me, Jason stood just as youthful, his white shirt shining against the glow of the setting sun. We were standing on the track at school, the cherry blossoms in full bloom behind us. Petals floated in the air like confetti, gently landing on our hair and shoulders.

It was a moment frozen in time. How beautiful our youth had been. How perfect our first love seemed.

But now? That was all a joke.

Jason and Ava’s social media posts. It felt like a thousand tiny knives, each one stabbing deeper into my chest with every scroll.

"To hell with understanding. To hell with the wedding."

After a moment, I finally took a breath and started to think more clearly.

Ava Green. That woman. I knew her too well.