Love Like an Abyss

I rubbed my eyes, exhaustion weighing me down.

“Just leave them there,” I said, my voice listless.

My phone chimed, signaling a new update on social media. Curious, I tapped into it.

Laurel had posted a video.

In it, she stood on the deck of a yacht, fishing in a bikini. A man’s arms wrapped snugly around her slim waist from behind. Even from the shaky footage, I recognized the watch on his wrist—it was the birthday gift I had given Brian last year.

The location tag read Thailand. A dull ache spread through my chest, sharp and relentless. So, the reason Brian postponed our wedding wasn’t because of work. It was to accompany the woman he truly cherished on a fishing trip.

I went through the motions of washing up, then booked a cab back to the villa to pack my things. Just as I was zipping up my suitcase, the bridal brand Brian had arranged for stopped by to deliver a wedding dress sample.

“Delivery for Laurel Gibbs. A custom-made gown from Mr. Rocha. Congratulation for your wedding, Miss Gibbs,” the delivery person announced brightly.

I froze for a moment, staring at the garment bag they held. It bore the unmistakable logo of MN’s high-end bridal collection. The gown Brian had picked for me during our trip to MN’s headquarters was merely a limited-edition runway piece. This, however, was a bespoke masterpiece, crafted with precision and care. The difference wasn’t just in the craftsmanship—it was in intention.

I forced a bitter smile. “Thank you, but I’m not Laurel.”

The delivery person looked at me, confused. Their expression shifted as realization dawned. They stammered out a series of apologies before scurrying away, clearly embarrassed.

As I watched the delivery crew leave, I caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of my eye. Brian had just returned—and Laurel was with him.

“Hi, Cousin, how are you? It’s great to see you!” she greeted me with overflowing enthusiasm. Yet, I could sense the insincerity in her tone as she continued, “I was planning to drop by and, I bumped into your fiancé in the parking lot. So, we walked here together. I hope you don’t mind.”

The way she pressed on “don’t mind” was a deliberate dig.

Brian frowned slightly, seemingly annoyed by the way she addressed him as my fiancé.

I forced a smile. “Of course not.”

Why would I mind? I’d be leaving soon anyway. Brian didn’t love me, so whether I cared or not didn’t make a difference.

I didn’t want to waste my time chatting with them, so I headed upstairs to my room. I left the door open as I began packing.

Brian appeared moments later, leaning against the doorframe. He walked toward me, hands in his pockets, then pulled out a ruby necklace with a gemstone the size of a pigeon egg.

“It’s, um, peace offering. Will you forgive me?”

He thought I was upset because he had postponed our engagement party. That wasn’t it at all. I was tired of his charade. Tired of seeing him force himself to love me.

When I said nothing, Brian unfastened the necklace and slipped it around my neck.

“The company is hosting a celebration tonight. Come with me,” he said.

“I can’t,” I replied, pushing my suitcase past him. “I have plans.”

“You wouldn’t want your fiancé to show up at the party with another woman on his arm, would you? Besides, there’ll be a lot of big names in the industry tonight. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

I hesitated, releasing the handle of my suitcase.

This trip to Dubai… it could be a one-way ticket. I might never return. Maybe I should use this as a chance to say goodbye to some of my former colleagues.

I nodded slightly.

Brian’s mood immediately lifted. He called for a makeup artist and stylist to come upstairs.

An hour later, I emerged in a floor-length, couture gown with an elegant train, the ruby necklace resting against my collarbone.

When Brian saw me, his eyes lit up as he opened the car door. “You look beautiful!”

Just as I stepped toward Brian’s car, Laurel pushed past me, lifting the hem of her dress dramatically.

“This gown is too big to fit in that small car. Can we switch, Angie?” Laurel asked, her voice dripping with sweetness. The ruby necklace she wore—far larger and more radiant than mine—caught the sunlight, sending dazzling reflections that felt almost mocking.

I glanced at my own necklace, its delicate chain and modest pendant suddenly looking like a trinket from a clearance sale. 

“My dress is big too,” I replied in a cold tone, refusing to give in to her petty games.

Laurel pouted dramatically, leaning closer to Brian. “But I get carsick. I need a bigger car,” she whined, her voice soft and pitiful as if she were some fragile creature in need of protection.