Her Cardiac Episodes Steal Half My Fiancé's Love

’All I cared about is the house I helped pay for, so why the hell am I the one being locked out?!’

I wanted to shout at him, but I stayed quiet. Seeing that, he pulled out his phone again.

“What, this is about money? Fine, I’ll just transfer your damn share right now. Jeez, you paid a little but talk to me like you own the whole house.”

He opened iMessage and scrolled for a while, but couldn’t find my contact.

I couldn’t wait any longer, so I pointed to a profile picture on his screen to help him out.

It was me—but under my old number. No display name. No pinned chat. No special label.

He looked dazed for a second before tapping into our inbox.

The most recent messages were from a few days ago. Dozens of messages from me about the wedding. He hadn’t replied to a single one.

And then I saw it—his only pinned conversation.

It was with Jacqueline.

He probably saw me looking at it ‘cause his face instantly turned pale.

He even tried to explain, “Jacqueline has a heart condition. I need to be able to see her messages right away.”

“Whatever,” I said. “Just transfer the money.”

If I was leaving, I wasn’t walking away empty-handed.

This time, he didn’t argue. He just quietly sent it over.

When I walked inside, I found that the bedroom—our bedroom—was already taken.

Jacqueline was asleep in our bed.

All the wedding decorations were gone, tossed in the trash like something with no sentimental value at all.

“She thought they were tacky,” Clyde explained casually. “I didn’t think they were that great either, so we threw them out. Hey, she has a heart condition. Don’t take it so personally.”

‘That line again. Over and over.’

I didn’t shout or cry. I just went straight to the guest room and locked the door.

In the middle of the night, I heard his footsteps stopping in front of my locked door.

He stood there, not knocking.

Soon enough, I heard him go into Jacqueline’s room instead.

The next morning, he made breakfast.

We’d lived together for eight years. But this was the very first time I’d ever seen him cook.

I reached for a sandwich—but before I could even touch it, he rushed over and slapped my hand away.

“Jacqueline’s anxious about contamination. Don’t touch that. Yours is over there.”

My gaze followed his finger and saw my so-called breakfast.

Scraps. Rejects. Leftovers from what he messed up making hers.

I dropped my hand, said “I’m not hungry,” and went downstairs to eat by myself.

He didn’t follow. He was too busy feeding Jacqueline.

Literally. Like a child. Bite by bite.

After breakfast, I came back upstairs, and he stopped me in the hallway.

“Didn’t you always say you wanted to go out on a date with me? Jacqueline wants to go to the amusement park. Come with us.”

He said it like he was offering me a favor… Like tagging along would make everything okay again.

I was about to say no when he suddenly grabbed me, dragged me downstairs, and shoved me into the car.

As soon as we got to the park, Jacqueline lit up and said she wanted to try the drop tower ride.

“Mallory, let’s ride it together!”

“No,” I said right away.

She looked hurt. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay… I won’t force you.”

But her words lit a fire in Clyde.

“Goddamn it, Mallory, can you not kill the mood? She’s trying to be close to you, and this is how you act? You just have to reject every bit of kindness, don’t you?”

The next thing I knew, he grabbed my wrist hard, dragging me toward the ride.

“If you don’t go, then we’re not getting married!”

That was always his go-to threat. The one thing he knew would hit where it hurt.

But this time, I yanked my hand away with everything I had.

“Clyde, I’m afraid of heights! You know that!”

It was something I’d only ever shared with him—something I’d reminded him of more than once.

In the face of my desperate struggle, all he said was something dismissive…