Good bye, My Fiancee, You Hurt me!

For days, my life had become nothing but packing, sorting, and stripping away every trace of a love that had already died. I instructed my uncle to handle the legal side of selling my properties, and one by one, I began letting go of everything Marco ever gave me—cars, jewels, even the wedding house that once symbolized our future.

Every gift that had once felt like devotion now felt like chains I wanted nothing more than to shatter.

Camille’s belongings were gathered too. I couldn’t stomach the thought of her clothes and trinkets lying around my home as if she belonged here.

Some were boxed and sent away. Others, I simply had thrown out. The house smelled of dust and detergent, but at least it was mine again, even if only for a short while longer.

I was wiping down the table in the living room when I heard voices—Marco’s voice, low and careless, drifting from the back terrace where he thought I couldn’t hear. I froze, the cloth in my hand damp and shaking.

“Mom, I heard you, okay?” His tone was sharp, irritated. “It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t want to marry me. So what? I don’t care. She’ll surely beg for it soon, so let her be dramatic.”

My chest tightened.

“Who cares? Even if she’s dead, I don’t think I’d care about her funeral. I regret promising her the wedding. I was wrong.”

The words hit me like blades. My knees almost buckled beneath me, but I gripped the table for balance. That—those words—that was my last straw. After everything, after twenty years of loyalty, love, sacrifice… to him, my life, my death, my very existence was meaningless.

I dropped the rag on the table and walked straight to the door. I didn’t even care if he saw me anymore.

But I didn’t make it outside before Camille’s voice screeched behind me. “What’s going on here?! Why are my things outside? Why are you throwing everything away?”

I turned slowly, my voice calm though my heart raged. “This is my house. I’ll do as I please.”

Her eyes widened, then welled up instantly with tears—practiced tears, I thought bitterly. She looked like a child running to her protector when Marco appeared.

“What’s happening here?” he demanded.

Camille burst into sobs, clutching his arm. “She’s throwing me out!”

Shania’s face darkened. “Marco, you gave me this house. That makes it mine, and I have every right to do whatever I want with it. If I say Camille has to leave, then she leaves.”

Marco’s jaw tightened, his eyes blazing. “You think you can just use that against me? Don’t forget who put you here in the first place. I gave you this house, Shania—not so you could throw your tantrums and drive out whoever I let in.”

I straightened, unflinching. “This isn’t a tantrum. This is me taking back what’s mine. If you want her here so badly, then fine—you can both leave. I don’t want either of you under my roof.”

Marco’s expression darkened further, his voice a low growl. “Are you acting this way because you think my mother will back you up? You think her favor gives you power?” He let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. “Pathetic. Fine. Camille’s leaving anyway. I already bought her a bigger house.”

My eyes flicked to Camille. Her tears evaporated instantly, replaced by a sly, triumphant smile. “You did?” she asked sweetly, feigning surprise.

“Yes,” Marco said with finality.

Camille’s mask slipped into a polite smile, and she turned to me. “I’m sorry for overstaying here,” she said, her voice dripping with false sincerity. She even stepped forward and hugged me, as if I would believe her act of gratitude.

But her whisper burned against my ear: “I’m leaving with him. I won’t ever let him come back to you again.”

I closed my eyes briefly, then pulled back, my face unreadable. “Do as you want,” I said coldly. Then I looked directly at Marco. “Go ahead. Get married. I’m settling with another man anyway.”

His laughter exploded in the room. “You? Don’t joke with me, Shania. What man would want you after knowing you’ve been with me for twenty years? You think anyone would accept a woman like that?”

I met his mockery with silence, though my heart thundered with pain and fury. He would never know. He would never understand the worth of the woman who had given him her youth, her loyalty, her everything.

Marco smirked as though he’d won. “Anyway, I’ll be back once I let Camille settle in. We’ll talk then… especially that tomorrow is our scheduled wedding in the registry so you would shut your mouth already about us not getting married. ”

Before I could even respond, Camille suddenly covered her mouth dramatically. “Marco, I feel sick—I think I’m going to vomit.”

His entire attention snapped back to her, panic flashing in his eyes. At that moment, I disappeared to him completely, just as I always did when she was near.

I turned, opened the door, and stepped outside. The air was cool, the sky already dimming into the evening. My heart was heavier than ever, but inside me, a strange clarity formed.

Enough.

There’s no wedding.

Tomorrow, I will leave. Tomorrow, I will end this cycle of humiliation and betrayal once and for all.

I packed through the night, every piece of clothing folded with numb fingers, every drawer emptied with a quiet, deliberate finality. No more wedding dresses, no more photo albums of false promises. Each item tossed into a box felt like shedding another chain.

When I finally sat down, the silence of the house pressed against me. My phone buzzed on the table. Marco.

What do you want?

I’m coming home tonight. I’ll make it up to you and the promised wedding. Tell me, Shania—what do you want?

My lips curved into a humorless smile. What I wanted? He couldn’t give me what I wanted anymore—respect, loyalty, truth. He never could. But he would understand this one last request.

I typed slowly, each word steady, final.

Bring me a blueberry cheesecake.