Fiancée for Seven Years, Left for His Ex

Emma's POV

I stumbled out of the bathroom, everything around me blurring as I tried to steady myself. Leaning against the wall for support, I slowly made my way to the living room and collapsed onto the couch.

Jason, however, was still in the other room, trying to comfort Ava as if nothing had happened. "Hey, hey, Ava, stop crying," he said gently. "It’s all Emma’s fault. Let’s just forget about her."

"Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’re going to the amusement park," he added, his tone soft and reassuring.

I felt my energy draining, both physically and emotionally. I didn’t want to fight anymore.

I was just... so tired.

From the room, Ava’s delicate voice floated toward me. "Jason, I’m a bit hungry..."

Jason’s reply was gentle. "What do you want to eat? I’ll make it for you."

I couldn’t take it anymore.

Grabbing my bag, I stormed out of the door, the night air cooled against my face, but it couldn’t shake the chill in my heart.

...

Memories flooded my mind, crashing over me like a tidal wave. The sweet past now felt like sharp knives, stabbing me repeatedly in the chest.

Jason had always struggled with his stomach. Because he couldn’t cook, I took it upon myself to care for him—making fresh meals for him three times a day. His stomach couldn’t handle spicy food, so I gave it up, even though I loved chili.

He liked fish, so I bought the freshest catch every day, even though I was allergic to the smell.

I treated him like a mother would, making sure every little detail was perfect. But now, looking back, I see how foolish I was.

He could cook. He knew how.

But he pretended to be helpless, using me like a free maid, taking my care for granted.

I opened our chat history—seven years’ worth of messages.

They used to sparkle with the happiness and sweetness of our love. But now, all they did was leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

I scrolled to a conversation from a month ago.

[Emma, I’m working overtime tonight. Can’t have dinner with you.]

[Emma, I’ve got a client tonight. Can’t go to the movies.]

[Emma, I’m busy tonight...]

A string of "can’ts," each one landing like a slap to my face, harsh and unrelenting.

I kept scrolling, backtracking to two months ago.

[Jason, you’ve been working overtime a lot lately. You need to take care of yourself.]

[I know, Emma. You’re so good.]

[Don’t overwork yourself. Come back early.]

[Okay, I will.]

I continued scrolling—three months ago, four months ago.

The contrast between my care and his indifference was so stark it almost hurt. And then, it hit me: six months ago, Jason had started pulling away.

He’d been working late, and going on business trips more often. Back then, I was naïve enough to think it was all for us—that he was working hard for our future. I understood, I sympathized.

But little did I know, all that 'hard work' was just him sneaking around with Ava.

I kept scrolling, reaching messages from a year ago.

[Jason, I saw Ava today... she seems to have feelings for you...]

[Don’t overthink it. She’s just a friend.]

[But...]

[Emma, trust me.]

At the time, I truly believed him. I thought I was just being paranoid, imagining things. Now, I realized how wrong I had been. I had been so blind.

I squeezed my eyes shut, and took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. When I opened them again, the sadness in my eyes had been replaced by a calm determination.

My phone vibrated.

Right there, Jason’s name flashed on the screen.

[Emma, I’m sorry. I was wrong earlier. I shouldn’t have hit you. Please don’t be mad. Come back... it’s cold outside.]

His message stung, but I couldn’t help but feel a cold resolve setting in.