The Fiancée He Humiliated Walked Away Forever

1: 1

My boyfriend, John Barnes, and I had planned a pre-wedding trip to close out eight years together.

I booked the flights and hotel in Southport, my favorite place, but right before we left he dragged along a college girl, calling her our photography assistant.

Before I could get a word out, John rushed to explain.

"You're always saying my photos are terrible. So I found someone to shoot you properly, and you're still not happy?"

I was so touched I nearly teared up, and I quickly apologized to the girl.

But on the trip, the assistant only had eyes for John.

"John, do another pose!"

"John, that pose looks amazing!"

Every time I asked to have a couple of shots taken, she'd find some excuse.

"Oh, the camera's overheating. Hang on, give it a bit."

"Your angle isn't flattering. There's nothing usable there."

...

I wanted to talk it out, but John, pressed close beside her picking through photos, acted like he hadn't heard a thing, his face full of irritation.

"She's just a young girl and it isn't easy for her. Stop giving her a hard time. I'll get your shots at the next spot."

Anger sat smoldering in my chest. I was so worked up I couldn't sleep by midnight, and when I turned over, John was nowhere in sight.

I searched all the way to the pool in the hotel's back garden, where the two of them stood half-undressed and wrapped around each other.

"It's just easier with you. The sight of that dowdy woman gets on my nerves."

The woman pouted and asked,

"Won't she figure out you brought me on this trip on purpose? What if she gets angry?"

The man's face was pure contempt.

"So what if she does? She's a stranger in a strange place. What's she going to do, run? She has no choice but to take it."

I clenched my fists and gave a bitter, mocking laugh.

So the trip I'd thought was making me happy was nothing but their excuse to sneak around.

This three-way trip, everyone hiding their own agenda, I was done with it.

1

Hearing the man's solemn promises, Sophie White immediately gave John's chest a coy little pound.

"Stop it, you're going to make me cry!"

John was clearly enjoying the show, his mouth curving as he pulled her in tighter.

"Then what else do you like about me? This... or this?"

His hands roamed restlessly along Sophie's waist.

Like dry kindling about to catch the next second.

Everything in front of me was a knife, driving hard into my chest.

A violent wave of nausea surged straight up my throat.

I never imagined that the boyfriend I'd been with for eight years, my future husband,

would cheat on the pre-wedding trip I'd looked forward to most.

Would even slander me in front of another woman to prove his loyalty.

Despair mixed with disgust welled up inside me, and my clenched fists went slack.

Just as I was about to back away quietly and pretend I knew nothing,

my foot slipped and I went down hard on the ground.

"Who's there?"

John whipped around, still not forgetting to shield Sophie in his arms.

I quickly ducked behind a pillar by the pool and spoke in my broken Southport-accented English.

"Sorry, sir, miss. I'm just here to clean the pool."

Neither of them understood much, and in the dim light they couldn't make out my face.

John stood to come closer, but Sophie tugged him back, looking hurt.

"That person scared me half to death. Were they trying to spy on us? John, you have to teach her a lesson."

John nodded, charged over to me, and drove his foot hard into my stomach.

"You lousy cleaner, and you've got the nerve to spy on us? You want me to file a complaint about you?"

I curled up in the dark corner, desperately covering my head, refusing to let myself make a single sound.

"Guilty conscience, huh? Can't even say a word!"

By the time John's temper cooled, I was already battered all over.

"John, forget about her, come teach me to swim. We don't have much time~"

Hearing that, the man's expression softened in an instant as he turned to coax her.

"All right, all right, whatever you say."

The two of them went right back to their cooing in the pool as if no one else existed.

I gave a bitter smile, climbed up, and braced my nearly falling-apart body all the way back to the room.

It wasn't until nearly dawn that John finally came back.

Seeing me sleeping with the covers pulled over my head, he asked in fake concern,

"Evie, what's wrong? Are you not feeling well?"

Afraid of giving myself away, I shook my head and said I was fine.

He looked up and met my eyes, then explained belatedly,

"I wanted to go watch the sunrise last night. You were sleeping so soundly I couldn't bring myself to wake you."

I laughed silently. The fog in Southport was thick right now. Where exactly would he have seen a sunrise?

Smelling the unfamiliar sweet scent on him, I gave a cold snort.

"You don't need to tell me things like that. Not now, not ever."

John's face darkened all at once. I went on,

"And that scent of yours doesn't smell good. Stop wearing it."

His face went red, then white, as he worked up how to explain himself.

Then Sophie barged right in.

"Evie, why aren't you up yet? Didn't we agree I'd take your photos today?"

"Don't tell me you're still angry with me?"

She plopped herself down hard on my hand, the pain nearly making me cry out.

I said nothing, just shook my head and pulled my hand free.

Seeing I was fine, the two of them stuck together again.

Once we were out, no one cared how weak my body was. I even got left trailing behind.

The two of them walked ahead, talking and laughing.

A foreign photographer even took them for a sweet couple and insisted on getting a shot of them together.

"You two are a perfect match!"

Sophie's face went red as an apple, her eyes fixed on John, full of hope.

John reached out and pulled her in, and the two of them smiled like flowers in bloom.

"Three, two, one, cheese!"