On the Wedding Day, I Broke Up Successfully

Struggling to walk on the sand in my shoes, I finally took them off and carried them in my hand.

Barefoot, I made my way to where Alex was standing, his face twisted in frustration as he tried to explain something to Emily.

He looked as humble and defeated as I once did.

When he saw me approaching, his words trailed off and his brows furrowed in irritation.

Annoyed, he said, “What are you doing here? I’m just discussing our upcoming plans with Emily.”

He seemed to think I was unaware of Emily’s time off, speaking with an air of justification.

I didn’t confront him, though.

Instead, I calmly said, “There’s a problem with the project. I need to go back and make some changes. Just letting you know, we’ll have to reschedule the wedding photos.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.

In the past, I would have confronted him with a cold stare, but now I felt no desire to exchange any more words.

As I turned to leave, I realized that sharp stones had left cuts and bruises on my feet.

Hobbling away, I could hear his urgent attempts to explain growing fainter behind me.

“You don’t understand. I can give you a future. The company is doing better now. Back then, I just didn’t know any better about love…”

When I got home, I quickly tended to the wounds on my feet and packed my things.

He didn’t come home until evening.

He walked in with a rare sight—holding a takeout box of food that had long since gone cold.

Casually placing it in front of me, he bent over, revealing the ambiguous red marks beneath his collar.

There was a hint of guilt in his eyes and his voice lacked the usual indifference as he said, "I brought this for you. I remember you’ve always wanted to try that restaurant."

It was the first time he had ever brought me food, but it was leftovers from his time with another woman.

The sight made me feel sick to my stomach. I quickly closed the social media post where Emily had checked in at that very restaurant today.

I got up and headed to the bedroom.

"No need, I’ve already eaten," I said.

The jostling from his walk made him notice the bandages on my foot.

After a moment, he came in with some anti-inflammatory medication.

I glanced at him as he knelt by my feet and said coldly, "No need, I've already taken care of it."

Rejected again, his expression faltered, showing a hint of frustration.

Perhaps the guilt from his betrayal kept him from lashing out immediately.

Instead, he spoke with forced patience, "Well, let me at least bring in the food. You've been wanting to try it for so long; you should at least have a bite."

As he turned away, I snapped impatiently. "I said I don’t want it. I don’t want leftovers from someone else!"

Alex's patience finally wore thin and my rare display of anger ignited his frustration.

He spun around and slammed the anti-inflammatory medication onto the floor.

“What’s with your sarcastic attitude? What’s wrong with you? I went out of my way to bring this back for you—do you have any idea how long I spent getting that food? After a whole day of work, I come home to see your cold face. Do you think I owe you something?”

"I already told you, I was just asking Emily about my recent schedule—what’s your problem? She’s my secretary; if I don’t ask her, who should I ask? It’s just that your wedding photos were delayed. If it’s such a big deal, fire me already!”

With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

He didn’t even notice the suitcase I had packed beside the wardrobe.

Tomorrow was supposed to be our wedding day.

And yet, he hadn’t even glanced at the wedding itinerary.

While he was busy freshening up, I went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of wine.

I was utterly exhausted, my eyes burning from fatigue. All I wanted was to get a good night’s sleep before leaving for my trip.

But even after downing a bottle of strong liquor, I lay wide awake, with no trace of drowsiness.

Instead, my thoughts grew increasingly clear.

By 2 AM, the sound of a door closing came from outside.

I walked out of the bedroom and glanced around. Alex’s slippers were carelessly placed by the entrance.

He seemed to have left in a hurry.

With the house finally free of his presence, I turned on the ceiling light and sat down on the sofa.

I sent out messages to several business partners, informing them they could now terminate our contracts.

After shutting off my phone, I lowered my head, my gaze falling onto the carpet.

It took me a while to remember that this was the carefully chosen decoration I had picked out myself.

When I had just graduated, I anticipated the struggles of supporting him in his startup, knowing that the promised wedding home might not materialize.

So, I had paid extra attention to this small rental apartment.

Looking back now, I felt incredibly foolish.

Ten years ago, Alex was with me simply because there were no better options around.

He saw me as the easiest to deceive.

I spent the night tossing out everything I had bought, throwing it all down the stairs. By the time I finished, the sky was beginning to lighten.

I glanced at the time, then dragged my suitcase into a cab headed for the airport.

In the airport terminal, while resting in a chair, I noticed Emily's post from the early morning:

["Almost drowned taking these photos—don't you dare say they look bad!"]

The photo collage beneath it showed a night view of the ocean. Emily was standing in the sea, with the water reaching up to her knees.

I opened the chat with Alex.

Before I could send the breakup message, his call came through.

I answered and before I could say anything, he demanded urgently.

“What’s going on with those projects? The contracts are signed; we’re just waiting on your plan. Why are the partners suddenly wanting to cancel?”

“You know how many cancellation notices I’ve received this morning?! What on earth are you doing? Forget it, I’ll hear your explanation in person!”

“This mess means we can't go ahead with the wedding today! My company is about to go under! Cancel everything! Cancel it all!”

The call abruptly ended.

I felt a deep sense of scorn.

If he had been honest and told me he no longer loved me and wanted to break up, I would have respected him as a man.

Instead, he chose the most pathetic excuse.

With a blank expression, I sent the breakup message and boarded the plane.