The gift I gave was engraved with my boyfriend Lover's name

He tossed his tie at me, his eyes cold. “You’re still mad because I didn’t meet your parents? You’ve been giving me attitude ever since. Seriously, is it necessary?”

“You should be grateful I’m here today at all. What more do you want?”

I tried to keep my expression neutral, to stop my brows from furrowing, wanting to tell him it was fine—that none of this mattered anymore. But then I thought about my father, about the little time he had left, and I took a steadying breath.

“Don’t worry about meeting my family. Let’s move the wedding up. How about three days from now?” If we did that, I could leave as soon as possible and be with my dad.

He let out a mocking laugh, seemingly enjoying the challenge. “Fine, if that’s what you want. But don’t expect anything fancy!”

“Alright.”

“We’ll do it at my place. You know my parents aren’t exactly thrilled about you. And your parents? Better if they don’t come.”

“Fine by me.”

No matter what conditions he set, I agreed calmly. His expression shifted, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Penny, what’s wrong with you? You’re not acting like yourself.”

Not acting like myself? I almost laughed. That was probably because he didn’t know me anymore.

There was a time when I would’ve trusted him without question. He used to tell me that his relationship with Becky was purely platonic, just a friendship that had lasted for years, and I believed him. He promised he would marry me and that I could always be myself around him. I believed that too.

And what did I get for believing in him? Night after night, he didn’t come home, crossing boundaries with Becky as if they didn’t exist. He refused to meet my parents, using the excuse of a stripped-down wedding to pressure me. He made fun of my taste, mocked the town I came from. 

Whoever I’d fallen in love with—whatever I’d once cherished in him—had vanished long ago. Now there was nothing left but an empty shell.

I was about to respond when Becky spoke up, her voice cutting through the tension. “Don’t worry, Derick. She’s probably just got cold feet. This is when you’re supposed to comfort her. You don’t want her to change mind, would you? What if she backed out—wouldn’t that drive you nuts?”

“Back out? She’s almost thirty. Who else would want to marry a leftover woman like her if not me? ” Derick’s expression hardened, and his tone dripped with disdain.

Becky feigned surprise, playfully slapping his arm. “Hey! I’m almost thirty too. Do you call me leftover?”

Derick’s face softened instantly, trying to backtrack. “Of course not. You’re different. Guys are lining up for you. But Penny? She’s not exactly in demand. She should be grateful to have me. While you, you get to pick and choose. But if you don’t take any them there’s still…”

He trailed off, leaving the suggestion hanging in the air. I tightened my grip on my purse, the familiar sensation of heartbreak barely stinging this time. For once, my heart didn’t ache. I had finally learned to let go, to detach myself from the pain.

“You’re right. I should thank you for your generosity.” My smile felt distant, as if it were someone else’s wedding we were talking about, not mine.

Derick stared at me, stunned, still watching as I walked away. When I got home, I began packing my things, calling for a courier to take the boxes. Four years of my life, and all I had barely filled two boxes. When Derick returned later, he arrived just as the courier was leaving with my things. He looked alarmed, as if panicked by what he saw.

“What’s with the boxes? Why’d you call a courier service?”

My reply came easily, as casual as could be. “Just sending some gifts to my parents.”

He opened his mouth to ask more, but right then, his phone lit up with a notification—a game invite. Instantly, his attention shifted.

I knew it was from Becky. She’d posted just minutes earlier, hinting at a wild night of singlehood for Derick before he “settled down,” planning two straight days of gaming with him to celebrate his “last days of freedom.”