He Chose His First Love, So I Buried My Love Forever

Every carefully composed photo had Quinn in it.

The comment section was buzzing too.

"Congrats, class president. You and our campus heartthrob finally made it official."

"True love wins in the end. Wishing you both the best."

"I always said you two were the perfect match."

"Madam President, when do we get to toast at your wedding? We've been waiting so long our necks are sore."

"…"

Back home, I sat on the couch watching the snow drift past the window, and I stayed like that, still, for the whole afternoon.

After dark, a key turned in the front door.

Quinn was home.

He froze for a second when he saw me on the couch.

"Miriam, it's pitch dark. Why haven't you turned on the lights?"

I lifted my eyes to him and said nothing.

Quinn kicked off his shoes and came to sit beside me.

"What, still mad at me?"

As he leaned in, I caught the cloying scent of women's perfume, not the kind I ever wore.

His thin lips came down, warm with liquor, and I drew back half a step without a flicker of expression.

Quinn stopped short.

Every quarrel before this, no matter how furious I got, always crumbled in the end against his tenderness and his kisses.

But now I didn't just refuse him. He could see the disgust in my eyes.

Quinn's brows knit together. "Miriam, how long are you going to keep this up?"

"It's New Year's. I don't want to fight with you."

I pressed my lips together and still didn't speak.

His face softened a little. "That night I left you two on the road, I know it wasn't right of me."

"But Lorraine's stomach was acting up. I couldn't just leave her."

"And I said back then I'd apologize to your mother myself."

"Over one small thing, you and your mother actually blew us off."

"Do you have any idea how long my parents spent preparing that New Year's dinner?"

"Or how disappointed they were when they knew you weren't coming? How angry?"

"If Lorraine hadn't gone out of her way to explain things for you, the wedding would've been off already."

Quinn pulled a gold-embossed red invitation from his bag and set it on the coffee table.

"My parents already arranged the engagement banquet. It's set for the night of the New Year's lantern celebration."

"I'll call your mother right now to tell her. I'm sure she'll be thrilled."

I drew a deep breath and made myself steadier. "There's no need. We've already broken up."

"And she won't answer your call."

Quinn's brows drew tight again. "Miriam, you're a grown woman. Can you stop throwing a childish tantrum?"

"Do you know how much your mother dotes on me? How much she spoils me?"

"She once told me she dreamed of the day I'd marry you and bring you home."

"How could she possibly not answer my call?"

Hearing all of this, my heart felt gripped by an unseen hand, clenched so hard I couldn't breathe.

Quinn wasn't wrong. My mother truly doted on him, spoiled him, had long since thought of him as her son-in-law.

One word from him that he wanted soup, and she'd be up at four or five in the morning, hurrying to the market for the freshest ingredients.

When he complained the hired help didn't clean well enough, she came every single day, right on time, to tidy up for us, rain or shine.

When he ran a high fever and I wasn't home, the moment she heard, she rushed over and got him to the hospital, and from the sleepless night and the strain she nearly collapsed from a heart attack…

Seven years of living together, and the love my mother poured into Quinn was no less than what she gave me.

So when the Swansons invited us to New Year's dinner, she agreed without a second's hesitation.

To make the best possible impression on her future in-laws, she started getting ready first thing that morning.

Doing her hair, putting on foundation, penciling in her brows…