My Fiancé Married Another Woman on Our Wedding Day

His voice was steady, but it couldn't hide the sadness buried beneath it.

“You know as well as I do that we were never going to end up together.”

“Myrtle, I can't give you a legitimate place by my side. But believe me, I'll convince Jemima to accept you.”

“When that happens, I'll set you up somewhere. A home, outside of all this.”

I could feel it. He did have feelings for me.

He couldn't refuse Jemima, and he didn't want to let me go either.

That so-called devotion of his, for the first time, made me sick. And strangely, the fury I'd been choking on loosened its grip.

Love or not. Sometimes it really does flip in a single moment.

Once the love was gone, so was the hold it had on me.

“Don't bother, Timothy. We're done.”

“Myrtle, I know you're just saying that because you're upset. Don't worry, I'll make it happen soon.”

“Leave.” I didn't look at him again. With that single moment of letting go, the scenery around me looked so much better than it had yesterday.

“Myrtle, give me seven days. Just seven days and I'll have Jemima on board.”

“Timothy.” I looked at him and spoke from the bottom of my heart. “I've really let go. I wish you both happiness.”

Timothy held my gaze, eyes unwavering. “You're lying. If you'd really let go, why did you follow me here?”

Follow him?

“I haven't sunk that low.”

“Timothy, listen to me carefully. We are truly over. I sincerely wish you and Jemima the best.”

Timothy reached out and grabbed my arm. “Don't do this. It kills me.”

I was about to respond when his expression changed completely.

He shoved me away hard. “I told you to stop clinging to me.”

I stumbled backward. He closed the distance in two quick strides and slapped me across the face.

“I never loved you. Have some self-respect, would you?”

The slap was vicious. My legs buckled and I hit the ground. Only then did I notice Jemima walking toward us.

She stepped forward and looped her arm through Timothy's. “Don't waste your time on trash like her.”

Jemima tugged him away. As they walked, Timothy glanced back at me, his eyes full of regret and guilt.

That tender gaze, from the same man who had just hurt me without mercy.

“Stop.” I picked myself up off the ground and called after them.

The regret and guilt in Timothy's eyes vanished. His gaze turned cold.

His voice was even colder. “I said stop clinging. I don't love you.”

Jemima's look wasn't cold. It was something worse: the blank indifference of someone gazing down from a height. “Myrtle, Timothy was only with you as an act of rebellion. A way to push back against his parents.”

“He grew up. You should too. Chasing after him like this is just pathetic.”

Timothy picked up right where Jemima left off. “She's right. The only reason I was ever with you was because my parents were pushing me to marry Jemima. I liked Jemima, but I resented the arranged marriage.”

“Now I finally see it clearly. I've always loved Jemima. I just didn't want to be told who to marry. So stop this. We were never on the same level.”

“My parents will never accept you. And neither will I.”

I stared at the two of them. Chasing after him had never once crossed my mind. I hadn't called out to them for that.

“Timothy, you hit me just now. Apologize.”

His betrayal, his leaving. I'd accepted that.

But that slap? That I would never accept.

Timothy kept shooting me desperate looks, signaling with his eyes. I just stared back and waited for his apology.

When Jemima turned to look at him, Timothy instantly hardened his expression. “Apologize to you? For what?”

“Because you won't stop throwing yourself at me? Because you can't take a hint? Or because you……”

“Because you put your hands on me. Apologize.” I stepped forward and locked my eyes on his.