My Fiancé's Countdown Mistress

I sat on the edge of our bed, staring at the photo until my eyes burned. Marcus and Victoria at Auberge du Soleil—the restaurant he'd promised to take me to for months. The ruby ring glinted accusingly in the candlelight. My fingers trembled as I tried to trace the message, desperate to confirm what I already knew.

The number was untraceable—a disposable, used once and discarded. Like me.

I didn't sleep. How could I? When Marcus finally slipped into bed at 3:47 AM, I kept my breathing steady, my back to him. He smelled of expensive wine and a perfume that wasn't mine. He didn't touch me.

"I know you're awake," he whispered.

I said nothing.

"The meeting ran late. Dave wouldn't stop talking about server capacity."

Another lie. I counted it like a nurse counts a patient's pulse—mechanical, detached. The darkness swallowed my silence.

Morning came with cruel brightness. I went through my routine like a ghost in my own life—shower, coffee, scrubs. Marcus was already gone, a hastily scrawled note on the counter: *Early meeting. Love you.*

The words mocked me.

At the hospital, I moved through my shifts on autopilot. Broken arm in bed three. Chest pain in five. Allergic reaction in eight. My hands worked while my mind replayed that photo—their heads bent close, sharing secrets I wasn't meant to know.

During a rare quiet moment, I borrowed Sarah's laptop to check my email. Marcus and I shared our Apple account—a decision made in the easy trust of our early relationship. A notification popped up: a screenshot from his MacBook had synced to the cloud.

I shouldn't have opened it. But then, he shouldn't have been at Auberge du Soleil last night.

It was a group chat. Marcus's tech friends—the same ones who'd be groomsmen at our wedding in twenty-nine days.

*Dave: Saw you with Victoria last night. Old flames die hard?*

*Marcus: Just catching up.*

*Alex: "Catching up" at Auberge? Sure, bro. Does the good doctor know?*

*Dave: Natalie's just the safe choice. We all know Victoria's the real deal. She GETS our world.*

*Marcus: Shut up.*

*Alex: He's not denying it though...*

The messages blurred as tears filled my eyes. I quickly closed the window, feeling like I'd been punched. Not just Marcus—his entire circle saw me as the consolation prize. The boring doctor he settled for when Victoria left.

"Earth to Natalie." Sarah's voice cut through my thoughts. She placed a salad in front of me in the break room. "You haven't touched your food. What's going on?"

I blinked, realizing I'd been staring at nothing. "Just tired."

"Bullshit." Sarah dropped into the chair across from me. "I've seen you after forty-eight-hour shifts. This is different."

I could tell her. Should tell her. The words pressed against my teeth—*Marcus is cheating on me with his ex. They're having a countdown romance until our wedding. His friends are laughing at me behind my back.*

But saying it would make it real.

"Wedding stress," I lied, forcing a smile. "Centerpieces and seating charts."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. She knew me too well. "Nat, if something's wrong—"

"I'm handling it," I interrupted, stabbing at my salad. "I'm going to talk to Marcus tonight."

Would I? The thought of confronting him made my chest tight. What if he chose her? What if the last five years had been nothing but a placeholder relationship until Victoria returned?

"Promise me," Sarah pressed, her hand covering mine. "Whatever it is, don't let it fester."

"I promise," I said, knowing even as the words left my mouth that it was another lie to add to the growing collection.

My phone buzzed. Another text from the unknown number.

*He always said you were his second choice. I'm just helping him remember his first.*

Attached was a new photo—Marcus kissing Victoria's neck in what looked like a hotel elevator, her triumphant eyes staring directly into the camera.

The countdown had just begun, and I was already losing.