My Cheating Fiancé Shaved My Head

The front door unlocked with a sharp metallic click. Aiden stepped into the foyer, carrying a glossy white shopping bag from a high-end boutique downtown. He kicked his leather shoes off, leaving them scattered across the entryway rug.

"My mother called me in hysterics," he announced, his voice carrying into the living room. "She claims you shoved her into the furniture."

I stood by the window, watching the city traffic below. I turned to face him. "She tried to slap me. I stopped her hand. If she fell, it was her own lack of balance."

Aiden groaned, dropping his keys onto the console table. He walked into the living room, his posture rigid. "I don't have the energy for this, Mazie. I just spent three hours calming Zaria down after your stunt this morning. She is terrified you hate her. I came here expecting you to be ready to apologize to both of us."

"I am packing," I said, my tone flat. "I am not apologizing to anyone."

Aiden sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if I were a stubborn child. He adopted the magnanimous, patient persona he always used when he wanted to win an argument without raising his voice.

"Listen to me," he started, setting the white bag on the glass coffee table. "We're both stressed. The wedding is in two days. Zaria's health issues have everyone on edge. But I brought you something to smooth things over."

He reached into the bag and pulled out a crimson silk dress. It featured a plunging neckline and a slit up the thigh. It perfectly matched the dark red tie he had worn to his corporate gala last week.

"A peace offering," he said, holding the fabric up by the thin straps. "A matching set. I have the men's suit jacket out in the car. We can wear these to the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night. It will show my parents and the investors that we are a united front."

I stared at the dress. The cut was entirely wrong for my body type, and the sizing tag dangling from the collar read a size zero. I was a size four.

"You bought that for me," I said.

"Of course I did," he replied smoothly. "I saw it in the window and thought of you. It will look stunning, even with your new haircut."

My phone buzzed on the side table. The screen illuminated with a text notification.

The name Zaria flashed across the top.

I picked the device up and tapped the message.

Message read: Aiden bought me that gorgeous red silk piece today to cheer me up, but it was way too loose around my waist. I told him to give it to you instead of throwing it out. Glad it found a home! You always did like my cast-offs.

A dry, hollow laugh escaped my throat. The sheer audacity of the lie was staggering.

I looked from the glowing screen to the dress dangling from Aiden's fingers.

"You thought of me when you saw it," I repeated.

"Yes," he insisted, shaking the garment slightly. "Try it on. We can move past all this drama and focus on the future."

"Did she try it on in the store, or did you bring it to her apartment first?" I asked.

Aiden froze. His confident smile vanished. "What are you talking about?"

I turned the phone screen toward him, holding it up so he could read the bold black text. "Zaria just texted me. She said it was too big for her. You're giving me your pregnant mistress's hand-me-downs and calling it an apology."

The color drained from his face. His eyes darted from the phone to my face. "She is lying. She just wants to stir up trouble because she feels insecure."

"You went through my coat pockets," he suddenly accused, his tone shifting from defensive to aggressive. "You found the ultrasound."

"Eight weeks," I said, stepping away from the window. "You slept with her while I was draining my trust funds to save your bankrupt company."

Aiden tossed the dress onto the sofa. "It meant nothing! It was one night of weakness. She was terrified about her diagnosis, and I was terrified about the firm failing. We made a mistake. We sought comfort."

"A mistake," I echoed, closing the distance between us. "Two months ago, you bought those matching blue cashmere sweaters. You gave the women's fit to Zaria because she gets cold easily. I watched her wear it around my apartment. I stayed quiet then because I thought you were just overly protective of a sick friend."

"I am protective of her!" he shouted, his hands balling into fists.

"You're a coward," I said.

I grabbed the crimson dress off the cushions and hurled it directly at his face. The slick fabric slapped against his cheek, the heavy metal zipper grazing his jaw before the garment slid down to the floorboards.

Aiden slapped a hand against his neck where the zipper had scratched his skin. His eyes widened, completely unhinged by the physical rejection.

"You ungrateful bitch!" he roared. "I am trying to keep this family together! Do you know how humiliating it's to rely on your money? To have everyone in my office whisper that my fiancée bought my success?"

"So you punished me by sleeping with Zaria."

"Zaria actually respects me!" he spat, stepping over the discarded silk. "She needs me. You just use your bank account to castrate me at every turn. You hold your wealth over my head like a weapon."

"My bank account kept you out of federal court," I reminded him, my voice dangerously calm. "I worked eighty-hour weeks to build that portfolio. And my lawyers will be taking every penny back."

Aiden laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed off the high ceiling. "You think you can just walk away? The wedding invitations went out to five hundred of the most important investors in New York. If you cancel now, you will ruin my reputation. I'll lose the new funding rounds."

"Your reputation is not my problem anymore."

"It's your problem!" He pointed a finger inches from my nose. "You signed the venue contracts. You paid the deposits. You're going to put on a wig, put on a dress, and stand at that altar."

"Get out of my apartment," I said.

"This is my apartment too!"

"My name is on the lease. You've until midnight to pack your things, or I am calling building security to drag you out."

Aiden stared at me. The veins in his neck pulsed against his collar. He realized I was not breaking. I was not crying. The girl who used to bend over backward to massage his ego was gone, sheared away with the locks in the trash.

He spun on his heel and marched toward the foyer.

He yanked the front door open, the hinges whining in protest. He didn't step into the hallway immediately. Instead, he turned his head, his gaze sweeping over my jagged, shaved scalp with pure disgust.

"The wedding proceeds the day after tomorrow," Aiden snarled, his hand gripping the brass doorknob. "You better figure out how to clean up this mess before then."