Good bye, My Fiancee, You Hurt me!

“There is no wedding!” My voice cracked, raw from the weight of my broken heart. “Because I’m breaking off the engagement!”

For a moment, silence swallowed the room. Marco blinked at me, stunned, as if my words had come from a stranger. His lips parted, then curved into something that wasn’t remorse but disbelief.

“You’re being dramatic again.” He actually laughed—laughed—like my pain was nothing more than another one of my moods. “Come on, Shania. You can’t leave me like that. You love me too much.”

His arrogance was a slap harder than any hand could deliver.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my chest heaving. “I can. And I will. Just wait and see.”

I wanted him to fight me. To beg. To tell me I was wrong and pull me into his arms the way he always used to. But instead, Marco only shrugged, turning away like this was nothing more than an inconvenience.

“Go to sleep. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Always tomorrow.

Before I could scream at him, a soft voice floated from the hallway. “Marco? Shania? Are you fighting… because of me?”

Camille. She stood at the threshold in her silk robe, her hair tousled as if she had just rolled out of our bed. Her face was pale, her hands clasped tightly together. She looked fragile, like porcelain about to crack.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “The wedding was postponed—it’s my fault. I was sick, and I feel so bad. Please don’t blame Marco. You can always do it again.”

Something inside me snapped.

“Don’t be sorry,” I spat, my voice trembling with rage. “Be honest. You wanted this. You wanted him. And now you have him. So congratulations.”

“Shania!” Marco’s voice thundered. His eyes narrowed with fury. “What is your attitude? Can’t you see she’s sick? Why are you picking a fight?”

Camille shook her head quickly, stepping forward, her eyes glistening. “Please… don’t think badly of me. I never wanted to come between you two. I just want to apologize.”

Her hand reached for mine. Soft, hesitant. Pretending to be kind.

I slapped it away.

The crack echoed through the hall. Camille gasped, stumbling back, her eyes wide. Marco froze, his mouth open in shock.

Before either of them could speak, I spun around, stormed into my room, and locked the door behind me.

“Shania!” Marco’s fists pounded against the wood. “Open the door! Don’t make me punish you. Do you hear me?”

I pressed my back against the door, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Through the wood, Camille’s voice drifted, trembling but cruel underneath. “She deserves it, Marco. Don’t let her treat me this way. Don’t let her ruin you.”

Her words cut me deeper than the slap I had given her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll punish her tomorrow. For now, you should rest.” And they were gone.

All I could do was cry. Back then, when I was angry with Marco, he would do anything—anything—to win me back. He once stood outside my dorm in the pouring rain with roses until I forgave him. When I ignored his calls after our first real fight, he wrote me letters every day, sliding them under my door until I laughed through my tears. He never let me cry alone.

But now? Now he let me cry on the other side of a locked door, while Camille whispered poison into his ear.

The tears wouldn’t stop. My chest heaved as sobs shook me, but the sound of laughter outside—hers, his—was worse.

And then the moaning started.

I pressed my hands to my ears, but it didn’t matter. Their voices seeped through the cracks, sharp reminders that I was no longer chosen, no longer wanted. Eventually, exhaustion dragged me into restless sleep, my pillow wet with tears.

The next morning, sunlight pierced my swollen eyes as the door burst open. Marco stood there, towering over me, his expression thunderous.

“Get up.” His voice was sharp, unyielding. He yanked the blankets off me.

I blinked, disoriented. “What—”

“Did you reflect on what you did last night?” His tone was ice. “Apologize to her now.”

I pushed myself up slowly, my voice raw. “No. I won’t. I did nothing wrong. She’s the one who ruined me… ruined us.”

Marco’s glare darkened. “Do you hear yourself? She saved me, Shania. Without her, I wouldn’t even be alive. Can’t you be grateful for once?”

My lips trembled. “I was grateful. But not anymore.”

I tried to walk past him, but his grip clamped down on my wrist. And then the sting came.

His hand struck my cheek, the sound deafening in the silence.

“That’s for slapping her.” His words dripped with venom. “Now get dressed. We’re going out.”

I gasped, clutching my face. “Why would I go anywhere with you?”

“Because Camille wants to eat out. And she wants you to come. She’s trying to make this work. So be a good girl, Shania. If you want to marry me, you’ll have to live with her. That’s how it is. Fix your attitude—or there really won’t be a wedding.”

His words stole the breath from my lungs. My heart twisted, but I was dragged into the car minutes later.

Marco drove. Camille sat beside him in the passenger seat, their laughter filling the air like poison. And me? I sat in the back, invisible. Forgotten.

By the time we reached the restaurant, the sky had turned gray. Snowflakes drifted down, swirling in the bitter wind. The ground was slick, the air sharp.

We stepped into the parking lot, crossing toward the glowing lights of the restaurant. My heels clicked against the icy asphalt, my arms wrapped around myself for warmth.

Then it happened.

A truck barreled down the street, its horn blaring, tires skidding against the snow. The world blurred into chaos—screams, flashing lights, pounding footsteps.

I stood frozen at the crosswalk, the headlights blinding me. My body refused to move, my mind blank with terror.

Marco ran.

But not to me.

He lunged for Camille, pulling her into his arms, shielding her with his body as though she were the only one that mattered.

And me?

I was left standing alone.

The impact came like thunder. Pain exploded through every nerve, ripping the breath from my lungs. The world shattered into white snow, red lights, and screaming voices.

And then—darkness.