My Groom Left Me at the Altar

I had overestimated my place in Rudy’s heart. I truly deserved to be the laughingstock of the entire city.

Two days later, I completed the discharge process for myself.

In those two days, my phone hadn’t rung once. Not a single call from Rudy, not even a message on Facebook.

I still returned to the Inn, though, because all my belongings were there, including my most important personal documents. I had just arrived home when Rudy, as usual, was supposed to be busy. But to my surprise, he was home early. I was eating dinner when he walked through the door. I stayed seated, not moving, and made no effort to greet him warmly like I used to. Instead, I just looked up briefly and then lowered my head.

Perhaps this change made Rudy uncomfortable. From the corner of my eye, I saw his brow furrow slightly. He tried to hide his displeasure and, with a forced smile, spoke in a voice that was oddly gentle, almost trying too hard:

“Are you back?”

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice flat and devoid of any emotion.

Rudy, thinking I was still angry, wrapped his arm around my waist and leaned in close to my ear. His tone softened as he coaxed me, “I know I messed up with the wedding. Let’s plan another one soon—one that’s grander, more solemn than the first.”

“Here, this is your gift. Don’t be angry anymore.” Rudy handed me a paper bag, his tone trying to be conciliatory.

I glanced at the familiar paper bag with no surprise in my eyes. I knew without looking that it was another new bag from Mitchel’s family.

There’s a room in the villa dedicated solely to the bags Rudy has given me over the years.

Every time Rudy upset me because of Kelsey, he would buy me a new bag to apologize.

Now, with the one in my hands, there were exactly ninety-nine bags, one more away from completely covering an entire wall.

I forced a calm expression, raising the corners of my lips in a small nod. “Okay.”

Rudy let out a quiet sigh of relief, completely oblivious to the fact that my smile didn’t reach my eyes.

Later that night, after I washed up and returned to the bedroom, Rudy noticed the scratches on my arms and knees.

“How did this happen?” His voice was full of concern, and the pity in his eyes seemed almost overwhelming.

But all I could feel was how fake and insincere it seemed.

“It’s nothing. I just accidentally bumped into something,” I replied indifferently.

“Be careful next time. I don’t like seeing you hurt,” Rudy murmured, gently pulling me into his arms, being careful not to touch my wounds.

I wasn’t moved by Rudy’s sweet words. Concerned? Maybe, but that was a long time ago.

There was a time when Rudy truly loved me, when he cared for me with such tenderness, unable to bear seeing me suffer even the slightest grievance. Back then, I felt like the happiest person in the world.

But no matter how strong a relationship is, it can't survive constant strain.

As Kelsey and I argued over and over, Rudy’s patience with me began to wane. He grew more distant, more indifferent, and eventually, his gestures felt hollow, his care more perfunctory.

He gradually turned a blind eye to my sadness, and rather than trying to comfort me, my pain only seemed to tire him.

For love, I compromised in every way I could, bending over backward to accommodate him. But in the end, all I received in return were cycles of disappointment, over and over again.