He Thought I Was His, But I Choose My Own Fate

When I received my admission letter to study abroad, I hesitated. It wasn’t financially feasible. But Nathan’s generous and well-off parents insisted I pursue my doctorate. Through him, they transferred my tuition and living expenses for the first year.

In the beginning, I could get by with food and clothing, but it only lasted for a few months. After a few months, Nathan’s promised living expenses never came again. Nathan never explained and I didn’t dare ask his parents. Left with no choice, I supported myself through part-time jobs, scraping together enough for tuition while living in a decrepit apartment.

The area was far from safe. A few big black-faced men always wandered around the house. Men with harsh faces loitered outside my building, their eyes leering at me when I returned from late classes.

I was so scared that I could only lock all the doors and windows when I went to bed and I would even reinforce several locks on one door and block the closet. Even so, there would still be a few drunken loud banging on the door.

Terrified, I once called Nathan for help. His voice was calm, dismissive.

“Honey, I’m swamped at work. Just hang in there; morning will come soon.”

I hung up, trembling under my blanket, wide awake until dawn. In desperation, I checked his social media.

A fresh post greeted me.

Nathan: [Little girls are so troublesome. Poor Olivia was scared of thunder; I comforted her all night.]

The comments below stung like needles:

[Olivia’s adorable—she’s worth it! Treat her well!]

[Don’t bully our Olivia! Also, remember to block Hannah, haha!]

So they all knew. Everyone. And they all kept it from me.

For three years, I worked tirelessly, got up early and was busy with my studies, hoping to graduate quickly and return to him. But during those years, Nathan transformed my friends into Olivia’s inner circle. I became an outsider, unwelcome in my own life.

At dinner that evening, I felt my body trembling with suppressed emotions. Nathan’s mother mistook my exhaustion for fatigue and told him, “Take Hannah home. She needs rest.”

Following him to the garage, I froze as memories of the car’s interior flashed back. I wrenched my hand from his.

“Get away from me! I don’t want to ride in your car!”

Nathan wrinkled his eyebrows, took a deep breath and patiently said, “Then how do you plan to get home?”

I didn’t answer, turning on my heel and walking. Step by painful step, I made my way toward the house. Night had fallen and the roads stretched dark and silent.

Nathan turned on his car lights and slowly followed behind me.

In the beginning, Nathan knew that I liked quiet, so he purposely bought the house in the suburbs. I walked for two hours and the soles of my feet rubbed raw.

When I finally arrived, he stormed in behind me, seething. “What’s your problem? You’re acting spoiled! Has going abroad made you unbearable?”

“Who spoiled me?” I said, voice trembling. For three years, I had clawed my way through life alone. Where was the luxury he accused me of?

I didn’t bother answering further; I just stepped inside to find everything unrecognizable. My study—once a shared dream for us—had been converted into a nail salon, complete with various manicure tools. The vanity was covered in makeup I didn’t own. Even the bathroom cup bore stickers labelling it “Olivia’s Exclusive.”

Our home, once lovingly decorated together, now screamed someone else’s name.

I was too drained to fight. Opening a guest room, I froze.

There she was. Olivia sat in a wedding gown—my mother’s wedding gown.

The gown was all I had left of her. Now, its aged lace had been carelessly cut away, the yellowed edges discarded on the floor. The jewels and embroidery were stripped, leaving the fabric tattered. Olivia’s careless attempt to squeeze into it had stretched seams to their breaking point.

She smirked as I stepped in, her eyes daring me to react.

With a loud rip, the gown tore completely.

Thunder rumbled outside as my composure shattered. I grabbed a vase and hurled it to the ground, screaming.

“Who told you to touch this wedding dress? Take it off! Take it off right now!”

Olivia shrank into Nathan’s arms, her voice trembling but her smirk defiant.

“Nathan, I’m scared…”

I grabbed my bag, striking at her in desperation. Tears blurred my vision as I shouted, “Take it off! That’s—”

Nathan’s hand struck me hard across the face. The slap rang louder than the thunder.

“Enough! What are you even doing? This is my house! If you want to throw a tantrum, do it elsewhere!”

I collapsed to the floor, my strength drained.

“It’s just a broken wedding dress,” he said coldly. “Why are you acting crazy? Have you lost your mind?”

Just a dress? That gown wasn’t ‘just a dress’. It was the only thing my mother left me—the only piece of her I still had.

But Nathan didn’t remember that. He didn’t care to.

Once, he had said, ‘Hannah, this is our home. You can decorate it however you like.’

Now, he said, ‘This is my house. If you don’t like it, leave.’

It wasn’t a broken wedding dress. This wedding dress is my mom’s relics left me. But he doesn’t remember it anymore.