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You'll Miss Me When I'm Done Novel Cover

You'll Miss Me When I'm Done

When agonizing stomach pain strikes, a young woman expects comfort from her fiancé. Instead, he heartlessly ejects her from his car, annoyed that her cramps interrupted a conversation with his childhood friend. Hospitalized alone with a severe stomach ulcer, she tries calling him repeatedly, only to be rejected. The ultimate betrayal stings when she spots him in the very same hospital hallway, protectively tending to his pregnant childhood friend while ignoring his own fiancée's crisis.
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Chapter 1

My stomach was killing me, but my very own fiancé? Oh, he actually just shoved me right out of his car!

Just 'cause my stomach cramps "interrupted" his sweet little talk with his childhood friend?!

I literally begged him to let me stay! But nope, he couldn't have cared less. That jerk just rolled up his car's window all slow, actually hissing, "Now, shut up!"

I ended up in the hospital with a stomach ulcer. I called him—over 10 times! And he just rejected every single call!

But when I glanced down the hall, turned out, he was just there—my oh-so-caring fiancé, protectively helping his pregnant childhood friend!

"Easy there, Josie, alright? We don't want you falling and hurting your little one..."

Once I recovered and was finally discharged, I headed to the Twilight Summit and stayed there for a week. Just me.

After 10 days of no word from Peter, that jerk started blowing up my phone out of nowhere like he'd lost his mind.

[Dammit, Hailey! Why the hell haven't you been checking up on me lately, huh?!]

——

By the time I picked up his call, I noticed it was nearly the 40th—just after I got back from my trip.

"Well, finally! Where the hell are you? GPS says you're not home!"

And then came the questions, one after another.

I just let him blabber on and on, keeping my cool while walking out of the airport.

When he came to pick me up, he just grabbed my suitcase without saying a thing at first. But that sarcasm on his face just wouldn't shut up.

"Honestly, I thought you were gonna pull a runaway bride. But here you are, dragging your ass back to me after just a few days, huh?"

"Well, look, the wedding's coming up soon, and I've got a lot of things to deal with. So, don't expect me to give a damn about your drama, got it? Just chill out, and don't even think of running off."

Then, he casually pulled out a stick of cigarette right next to me and lit it up in the car.

I quickly wrinkled my nose and turned away, rolling the window down.

As the breeze rushed in, I took a deep breath to steady my voice.

"Let's drop by the wedding design company."

If I remember correctly, the damn invites should be ready by now.

Peter sneered before stomping on the gas and speeding over to the company.

Once we arrived, he wouldn't even come inside—just leaned against the door, smoking, and scrolling through his phone like a flirt.

Soon, the wedding coordinator brought out the wedding invites.

"Miss Chavez, your wedding invitations are all set!"

My fiancé glanced over, his eyes landing on the bright red cards.

"Bloody hell! That's an eyesore!"

"Who the hell would even take that crap? Damn, you really can't be creative, can you?"

I didn't bother arguing. I simply counted the invites and pulled out my phone to scan the QR code and pay.

Just as I was about to say something, his phone rang.

Without a second thought, he picked it up, and this exaggerated sweet voice came through.

"Peter! Ugh, I've got to go to my check-up again. Oh gosh, it's just so lonely to do this all by myself. Bet my sweet childhood friend can come to keep me company, though?"

Just like that, Peter pulled out his car keys right after he hung up. All for that bitch, my soon-to-be-husband just left me there with one cold line.

"You got this. I gotta go now."

Yeah, he didn't even bother asking me. Just informed me like that.

Like a total jerk, he just assumed I'd be cool handling everything for our wedding.

Without even looking back at me, he just drove away.

Oh well, I just turned to the wedding coordinator.

"I already paid for these invites. Just throw everything away. And oh, please cancel everything else too."

She blinked, looking a little hesitant.

"I... I'm sorry. We're halfway done with the design, Miss Chavez. We don't do refunds, so if you cancel now..."

"Yeah, just keep the payment. I really don't mind."

I was halfway out of the wedding design company when it hit me—oh crap, the wedding dress! Right, I should cancel that too!

Once I took care of everything, I headed to a diner and ordered my go-to bowl of mac and cheese. While I waited, I started editing an Instagram Story.

I snapped lots of gorgeous pics up in the mountains, all memories worth sharing.

Then I put together a nine-picture grid and added a quick caption: [Just how I wanted it.]

It quickly blew up with likes, including one from Josie Barron.

Not long after, I got a notification. Of course, that bitch had to post, too.

It was a candid shot of a guy's side view. Definitely my supposed-to-be-groom.

The nerve of this girl to caption it: [This guy promised I'll never feel alone. Thanks to my sweet childhood friend for coming to my check-up again!]

Her friends chimed in, leaving stupid comments like [Aw, forever and always!]

I casually liked her shameless post, put my phone down, and got back to savoring my mac and cheese.

But then, just a few minutes later, my phone started buzzing.

Oh wow, the douchebag's calling.