Dumped by the Man I Saved, I Married His Worst Nightmare

The sudden heat startled me out of my thoughts. When I blinked my eyes open, someone was holding me from behind. Dorian’s arms were firm around my waist, his chest warm against my back. His breath skimmed the curve of my ear as he spoke softly, almost apologetically. “About last night… I know I wasn’t there,” he murmured. “Work piled up, that’s all. Let me make it right today. How about we go out later?” Before I could answer, his lips brushed my cheek in a gentle, lingering kiss—the kind that used to melt me. Then he slipped something cold and smooth into my palm. I glanced down. An emerald pendant rested there, its deep green surface catching the light. “I owe you more than an apology for forgetting our anniversary,” he continued as he clasped it around my neck. “After we’re married, I’ll finally take you to the Maldives. You’ve dreamed about it for years.” My lips curved into a faint smile, but my throat felt too tight to speak. He stepped away and returned with a breakfast tray balanced carefully in his hands—scrambled eggs, toasted bread, a glass of juice. “Look, I even cooked,” he said, clearly proud of himself as he set it down in front of me. If this were the past—back when we lived in that shabby little apartment and he saved coins just to buy me a cheap ring—I would have been overjoyed. I would have thrown my arms around him, telling him he was all I needed. But now? I just went through the motions. I poked at the food. I smiled when he looked at me. I pretended everything was fine. Because I could feel it in my bones—our love had already shattered. Then his phone rang. The name glowing on the screen was one I recognized instantly. Yvette. He glanced at me once before answering. “It’s business,” he said casually. “I’ll see you tonight. Put on the outfit I sent.” And just like that, he was gone, coat in hand, his familiar scent lingering in the room like a memory I couldn’t hold onto anymore. The silence afterward felt unbearable. I shoved the tray aside and walked to the wardrobe. I opened every drawer, every hidden corner, dragging out the relics of our past—handwritten letters, cheap souvenirs, the flimsy ring he once bought while juggling five jobs, dried flowers from days when we couldn’t afford bouquets. I gathered them all into a box. They had once meant everything. Now, they only reminded me of how much I had lost. I slid the box out of sight. When I left, none of this would come with me. That evening, I dressed in the gown Dorian had chosen and fastened the emerald necklace around my neck. I styled my hair the way he liked, painted my lips the shade he always complimented. I told myself it would just be the two of us tonight—that maybe he was finally trying again. But the moment I entered the restaurant, my heart sank. Yvette was already seated. “Well, this is awkward,” she said with a bright smile. “Same dress, same necklace. Looks like we have identical taste.” My voice barely came out. “Why are you here?” Dorian cut in before she could answer. “There’s a client meeting tonight. Yvette happened to be nearby, so she joined us. She was hungry anyway.” “I thought this was supposed to be our dinner,” I said quietly. He sighed in annoyance. “Don’t start, Camille. I’ve had a long day. Sit down and eat.” So I did. The dishes were served. Out of habit, I waited for him to place my plate in front of me like he used to—but instead, he set it in front of Yvette, smiling as he adjusted it for her. Then came the seafood platter. The smell made my stomach twist. A memory flashed—years ago, my throat closing, my body breaking out in hives, Dorian sitting beside my hospital bed after I’d nearly died from an allergic reaction. How could he forget something like that? He looked at me, confused. “Why aren’t you touching your food? Isn’t this what you like?” Yvette leaned closer, smirking. “It’s my favorite too.” “I can’t…” I whispered. “I’m allergic.” But his phone rang again, and he stepped away without hearing me. Yvette didn’t waste the chance. “You really don’t get it, do you?” she said quietly. “He’s turning you into me. Same clothes, same jewelry—so he doesn’t feel guilty about settling. Your necklace isn’t even real. Mine is. He gives me the originals—you get the knockoffs.” I said nothing. She smiled coldly. “Do yourself a favor and disappear. You don’t belong in our world.” I met her eyes. “Then I’ll leave.” I stood, but she suddenly cried out, kicking her chair and tipping her bowl. “My leg—she burned me!” Yvette screamed. Dorian rushed back instantly. “What happened?!” “She lost her temper and hurt me,” Yvette sobbed. “That’s not true!” I protested. He glared at me. “She makes a living with her legs, Camille! And you think you can just ruin them?!” Then he grabbed the hot plate and pressed it against my thigh. The pain was unbearable. I screamed. “Now you know how it feels,” he said coldly. I collapsed as he carried Yvette away, her face buried in his shoulder—smiling at me over his arm. And I was left there alone.

My hands shook as I wound the gauze around my thigh, wrapping it again and again until the sharp sting faded into a dull, pulsing ache. When I finally finished, I lifted my eyes to the mirror. The emerald necklace still hung at my collarbone, glittering cruelly against skin that had cried itself raw. My eyes were swollen, my lashes clumped with dried tears, and my leg was buried beneath layers of white cloth—like a secret I could never truly cover. In that moment, the truth settled over me with terrifying clarity. I couldn’t stay here any longer. I pushed myself upright, ignoring the protest in my muscles, and walked straight to the closet. There were no tears this time. I dragged my suitcases out and began filling them without hesitation. Then I gathered everything else—the letters he once wrote, the photos of our happier days, the tiny mementos I had guarded like treasures—and dumped them in a heap on the floor. Instead of boxing them up like before, I lit a match. The fire swallowed our past in seconds, ink bleeding into ash, paper curling into nothingness. I was finished. But just as I lifted my luggage, the front door flew open. Dorian stormed in, eyes darting between the charred remains on the carpet and the row of packed suitcases at my feet. “What the hell happened here?” he barked. “Why are our things burned? What are you packing for? And why does it smell like smoke in here?” I looked at him calmly. “I donated them.” His brows drew together. “Donated? And the bags? Where are you planning to go?” “A vacation,” I said faintly. “A vacation?” he repeated sharply. “Our wedding is around the corner and you’re talking about trips without telling me? Is this because of yesterday? Camille, I already apologized.” Sorry. That word again. He raked a hand through his hair and started pacing. “You know her family is backing the merger. I couldn’t embarrass her—if she loses face, the deal collapses. I’m doing this for our future. For us.” My gaze drifted to his legs—the same ones that once knelt before me when he had nothing but broken promises and hope in his eyes. Now they had walked me straight into heartbreak. “Please,” he said more gently, reaching for my fingers. “Just give me a little more time. Once this is over, I’ll put you first. I swear.” I couldn’t speak. My chest felt packed with stones. Then his eyes fell to my bare hand. “Where’s your ring?” I stiffened. “I took it off. It doesn’t feel right anymore.” Something unreadable crossed his face before he pulled me into a hollow hug. “We’ll go to the auction tomorrow. I’ll buy you a better one. Whatever you like.” I nodded, numb. Just a few more days. That night, I opened my bank app. A new transaction glowed on the screen—twenty million dollars. From Vivienne. The bargain was complete. The next morning, I stepped outside and froze. Yvette was already seated beside Dorian in the front of his car. “Oh—sorry,” she said lightly. “His mother insisted I tag along today. She said I’d be more suitable for something like this. You’ve never been to an auction before, right?” Dorian met my eyes in the mirror. “It’s business again. Don’t overthink it.” So I climbed into the back seat, staring out the tinted window. I remembered how Dorian once dreamed about buying us a tiny car. We’ll drive everywhere together, he had said, smiling like the future was ours. That future had vanished. At the venue, cameras flashed endlessly. Dorian and Yvette stood close, laughing easily, looking every bit the perfect couple. Reporters whispered their names with awe. When someone asked who I was, Dorian replied smoothly, “Just a friend.” The words tore straight through me. Later, Yvette leaned toward me and murmured, “See? You were never meant to be here.” I clenched my dress so tightly my nails bit into my skin. Eventually, I stood, intending to leave quietly—but something on display stopped me cold. A gold locket. It lay on velvet, glowing softly under the lights. It was identical to my grandmother’s—the one I sold long ago to pay for Dorian’s medical bills. He had once sworn to buy it back for me. Trembling, I reached out— “Thief!” a woman suddenly screamed, shoving me. “She’s stealing!”

The noise around me felt like blades slicing through my skin. “I didn’t take anything,” I pleaded, gripping the golden locket so tightly my fingers went numb. “I only picked it up to check it. It’s mine—it was my grandmother’s. I planned to buy it. I swear.” My explanation vanished beneath mocking laughter. “She’s lost her mind,” someone jeered. “Look at her—acting like she belongs,” another voice scoffed. The crowd closed in, eyes full of contempt. Heat flooded my face as whispers became accusations. Then someone gestured toward the jewelry I was wearing. “Those stones aren’t even real!” A woman seized my wrist and tore off the bracelet Dorian once bought for me. “Cheap copy,” she said, tossing it away as if it were trash. Then something hit my shoulder. A roll of bread. Next came wine splashing down my dress. Then plates, napkins, scraps—whatever they could throw. The crowd rained humiliation on me until I felt smaller than dust. Through it all, I searched desperately for Dorian. I scanned every face, praying I’d see him stepping forward, defending me, stopping the madness. He never did. He stood there like I was a stranger. That was the part that broke me. They forced me out of the building, shoving and striking until I collapsed on the pavement outside. My gown was ruined, my body aching, and my heart… beyond repair. No one followed. No one helped. As I lay there, another memory cut through me—years ago, when a vendor falsely accused me of stealing bread at a market. Back then, Dorian had shielded me with his own body, shouting for everyone to back off, proving my innocence. But tonight he had turned away. We no longer belonged to the same world. I staggered to my feet and limped through the streets until I saw the faint glow of a pawnshop sign. My hands trembled as I removed the necklace, the rings, every piece of jewelry he had ever given me. “Please,” I told the clerk softly. “Tell me the truth. Are these genuine?” He studied them carefully, then slid them back toward me. “They’re replicas. None of it has value.” My legs nearly gave out. That was when everything finally collapsed. His love, his vows, the symbols I treasured—they were all lies. I left with nothing in my hands and nothing in my heart. From there, I went straight to the police station. “I want to file a complaint about what happened tonight,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. But even as I spoke, I knew it wouldn’t change anything. Their world didn’t answer to people like me. Later that night, I was barely lying down when the door burst open. Dorian charged in, rage blazing across his face. Before I could react, he slapped me so hard I fell back onto the bed. “Have you lost your mind?” he shouted. “You think you can accuse those people after trying to steal from them?” “I didn’t steal anything!” I cried. “That locket was my grandmother’s—” “Enough!” he snapped. “You don’t stand a chance in court. You don’t have the money or the power. Drop it now before you disgrace me again. You’re nothing but dead weight. I should have left you rotting in that slum apartment.” Tears spilled freely now. For an instant, something wavered in his eyes—but it vanished just as quickly. Then Vivienne appeared in the doorway. “Dorian,” she said calmly. “Don’t be so cruel. She’s clearly humiliated.” She approached me with a smile that never touched her eyes. “Cancel the report, Camille. I’ll pay for the locket. You can have it back.” Dorian scoffed. “Stop encouraging her. She’ll start thinking she deserves things.” He turned back to me. “Embarrass me again and there won’t be a wedding.” Then he left. I didn’t move until Vivienne bent down and yanked my hair, forcing my head up. “Disappear before the ceremony,” she whispered. “If you bring shame to this family again, you’ll regret it.” She shoved me to the floor and walked away. Hours later, my phone vibrated in the darkness. With blurred vision, I picked it up—hoping it was my friend. It wasn’t. A man’s unfamiliar voice came through. “Miss Camille, this is Landon. Dorian’s biggest competitor. How would you feel about becoming my wife instead?”

My body went rigid as I tightened my grip on the phone. I didn’t really know this man on the other end of the line. All I knew about him came from Dorian—how his tone sharpened every time Landon’s name was mentioned, how hatred rolled off him whenever their rivalry came up. And strangely, that alone was enough. If Dorian loathed him that deeply, then perhaps Landon was the sharpest blade I could use to cut Dorian down. A cold smile crept onto my lips. My voice stayed calm, but my chest felt like it was burning from the inside. “Then maybe you should be the one to come get me.” His laugh was slow and confident, the sound of someone who never doubted himself. “Running away from your groom? I like that idea.” A weak chuckle slipped from me. “Tomorrow, then,” I murmured, ending the call before I could change my mind. My heart pounded—not with fear, but with something darker and far more dangerous. Revenge. Then I turned—and nearly jumped out of my skin. Dorian was standing in the doorway, watching me with narrowed eyes. “Who was on the phone just now?” he asked. I forced my expression to remain relaxed despite the panic in my veins. “Mara,” I replied lightly. “You remember her—my best friend. She’s coming to the wedding.” He stared at me for another moment before speaking again. “Actually…” His tone shifted, suddenly casual. “I think we’ll need to delay the wedding.” The words knocked the air from my lungs. “Delay it?” He moved closer, sighing. “Something urgent came up overseas. I have to leave on a business trip. Once I’m back, I’ll focus on us again.” I nodded, the corners of my mouth lifting in a brittle smile. “Of course.” “You’re not upset?” he asked carefully. I shook my head. “I get it.” His fingers brushed my hair, guilt briefly flashing across his face. “I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” “Should I help you pack?” I offered quietly. He gave me a tired smile. “That would be great.” That night I folded his clothes, lined up his shoes, zipped his suitcase with hands that felt strangely calm. When he kissed my forehead goodbye, convinced everything was still under his control, I stood alone in the penthouse after he left. To distract myself, I began tidying up—and noticed his laptop still open. I knew I shouldn’t touch it. But I did. The email on the screen made my blood run cold. “Maldives Wedding Confirmation — Dorian & Yvette.” I laughed aloud, a hollow, broken sound. “So that’s your business trip.” My phone buzzed. A message from Yvette—along with a photo of her kissing Dorian, his hands buried in her hair. Doesn’t he look happier with me? I stared at it for a long time before blocking her number. The next morning, Dorian texted like nothing had happened: I’ll buy you something nice when I’m back. I didn’t answer. Instead, I slipped on my coat and walked toward the exit. The butler looked up. “Madam, where are you heading?” “Just to buy something for the wedding,” I replied smoothly. “I’ll take a taxi.” I left my packed bags behind on purpose. If anyone was watching, they would think I was staying. But around the corner waited a black limousine. The window slid down. Landon smiled at me—sharp, unreadable. “So, ready to disappear?” A flicker of fear passed through me, but I pushed it aside. Anything was better than the prison I’d lived in. “I am,” I said. Hours later, as his private jet lifted into the sky, I removed my SIM card, staring one last time at Dorian’s name. Then I tossed it away. “Goodbye,” I whispered. --- Dorian’s POV I couldn’t stop pacing. Camille hadn’t replied to any of my messages. “Dorian,” Yvette purred, wrapping her arms around me. “Why bother with her? She’s probably throwing another tantrum. We’re the ones getting married—” I shrugged her off. “Don’t.” She smiled lazily. “Don’t remind you that you belong with me?” I glared at her. “This is business. I’m still marrying Camille.” She laughed. “After everything you did to her? Please.” Her words struck harder than I expected. I pulled out my phone. Camille’s name was gone. Blocked. My stomach dropped. I called the butler immediately. “Where is Camille? Why isn’t she answering me?” A pause. Then his answer: “She left yesterday, sir… and never returned.”

The silence of the hotel was suffocating. My chest ached, a gnawing emptiness that grew heavier with every unanswered call. I threw another suit into my luggage, grabbing the phone with my other hand. “Book me a flight,” I barked at the airline. “Earliest one to the States. I don’t care what it costs—just get me there tonight.” Behind me, Yvette’s voice sliced through the room. “Seriously, Dorian? You’re going to postpone our wedding for that? We’re in Maldives! Everyone’s expecting this wedding!” I stilled, my hands clenching into fists. “I don’t care. I’m going back to Camille.” She crossed her arms, eyes flashing. “What about the merger? The contracts? You know you need this. And for what? Because she didn’t come home last night? And is not replying to you?” Her tone dripped with mockery. “If you ask me, she’s just making this a big deal to get your attention.” I didn’t reply and just continued thinking about Camille. “Come on! She’s such a nothing, poor bitch, who’s clinging to you like a parasite!” she added. Something in me snapped. I turned, my palm striking her cheek before I even realized what I’d done. The sound cracked through the air, followed by her sharp cry. “You dare—” Yvette clutched her face, eyes wide with disbelief. “You dare hurt me for her? For that woman?” Her voice pitched higher, hysterical. “My parents will hear of this! They’ll never accept you after this!” “What’s going on here?” My mother’s voice cut in, calm but venomous, as she stepped into the room. Vivienne’s sharp eyes darted from Yvette’s trembling form to the half-packed luggage at my feet. “He’s postponing the wedding to chase after her,” Yvette spat, her finger pointing at me like an accusation. Vivienne’s face darkened. “Are you insane, Dorian?” “No,” I said firmly, turning to meet her gaze. “For once, I’m not. This wedding, this whole thing—it’s fake. It’s all for business. But my marriage to Camille? That’s real. And I won’t give her up.” Her lips curled in disdain. “She’s nothing but a gold digger.” “No,” I snapped, my voice breaking. “She’s not. It’s my fault she left. I pushed her away. I hurt her—God, I humiliated her—because I thought I was protecting her. But all I did was destroy the one person who ever stayed.” My mother’s expression shifted, a cruel sort of amusement in her eyes. “Is that what you think? That she’s innocent?” “What are you saying?” “She left you, Dorian,” Vivienne said smoothly. “She asked me for ten million dollars. I transferred it to her account myself.” My chest tightened. “No. You’re lying.” “Am I?” She pulled out her phone, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping a few buttons. A video played, Camille’s voice trembling: ‘I’ll take the money. Just prepare it in five days.’ And then—the proof. The transfer, her name etched beside the sum. My head shook violently. “No… no, she would never…” “She did,” my mother said simply. The words struck me like a blade. My knees almost buckled as I staggered back, clutching the edge of the table for support. My breath caught in my throat, and before I could stop it, a flood of memories came crashing into me. The hospital. The sterile smell of antiseptic. The fog in my head when I first woke up, not knowing who I was, not even my own name. And her. Camille. I saw her again as if she were right in front of me. That tiny, dimly lit apartment where she brought me after the doctors released me with no one to claim me. She had nothing, not even enough space to call it a home, but she gave me what she could. I remembered waking up on her thin mattress, my body aching, my mind blank. She sat on the floor beside me, peeling potatoes with hands that shook from exhaustion. “Where… am I?” I croaked, my voice raw. She looked up, startled, then gave me the smallest, most reassuring smile. “You’re safe. That’s what matters. Don’t strain yourself.” “Who… are you?” My chest tightened at the thought that I couldn’t even recognize her. She hesitated, then placed the bowl aside. “I’m Camille. You don’t know me, but I… found you. And until you’re strong enough, I’ll take care of you.” I remembered the way I stared at her, confused. “Why? You don’t even know me.” Her lips trembled, but she lifted her chin with quiet resolve. “Because someone has to.” She had nothing. But she never asked me for anything. I had promised her the world. And in return, I gave her lies. “I refuse to believe this,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “No. Not Camille.” “Then stay blind,” Vivienne hissed. “But understand this—if you go after her, if you choose her over us, you will never step foot as my heir again. You’ll lose everything.” Her words hung in the air like a curse. But what was wealth, what was power, when the one person I wanted most was already gone? I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. I simply zipped the luggage and walked past her, Yvette’s shrill protests ringing in my ears. The private jet felt colder than ever as I boarded. My phone was clutched tightly in my hand, the screen lighting up with her name—voicemail, unanswered calls, message after message left unread. Blocked. The finality of it carved a hollow into my chest. As the plane lifted into the night sky, I leaned back, staring blankly at the stars outside the window. Memories haunted me with every breath—her laughter when she burned herself in the kitchen and I scolded her gently, her tearful smile when I swore I’d give her everything once I had the money, her quiet strength when she told me she’d wait for me no matter how long. And now? All I could hear was my own voice breaking in the silence. “Please,” I whispered, pressing the phone to my lips. “Please don’t leave me. I’m sorry, Camille. I’m so sorry.” The tears came then, unbidden, hot and relentless. And the bitter fear that when he returned home, she would be gone forever.

Yvette could still feel the sting on her cheek. The humiliation of Dorian striking her, of being dismissed for that lowly woman, burned hotter than the red mark on her skin. She paced the length of the room, her fury spilling out in shrill words. “He dares hurt me for her? Me?!” she spat, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “If he doesn’t marry me, he’ll regret it. You know it as much as I do, Vivienne. Without my family’s support, without me covering your tracks, Dorian will learn the truth. He’ll know you had bankrupted the company because of your gambling when he disappeared. He’ll know the mess you hid from him.” Vivienne’s face hardened, though her voice remained calm. “Lower your voice, Yvette. I am doing the best I can. I even gave Camille ten million dollars to ensure she disappears. She will never come back. This should all be simple.” “Simple?” Yvette scoffed, eyes narrowing. “Your son doesn’t love me anymore when he should be. He’s still chasing after her! And this marriage? Postpone! What am I gonna tell them? My parents!” Vivienne’s gaze was sharp, unforgiving. “Then make him love you. Stop whining. Seduce him. Better yet, make yourself pregnant. That way, he will have no choice but to keep you by his side. You think tears and shouting will win him? Do what it takes. We can just tell them something happened so we have to postpone it!” Yvette’s lips parted in outrage, but she found no words to argue. She only hissed through her teeth, fury flashing in her eyes. “That wretched Camille… she’s ruined everything.” Vivienne’s tone turned cold, final. “Enough. We’ll talk about this again when we return. For now, we have to cancel everything before he makes more foolish decisions.” Yvette bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, cursing Camille’s name under her breath. Back at the estate, Dorian’s car screeched into the driveway. He burst through the door, ignoring the startled greetings of the staff. His chest heaved as he called her name again and again, his voice echoing against the high ceilings. No answer. He ran upstairs, into their room. The moment he entered, the sight nearly broke him. On the dresser lay two rings. The first, the diamond-studded engagement ring he had given her under the glittering lights of the city. The second, smaller and worn—the ring he had once bought with only five dollars in his pocket. No stone, no shine. Just a simple band he had pressed into her palm years ago, his voice trembling with certainty. “Camille, I may have nothing now. But one day, I’ll give you everything. Until then, let this ring remind you of my promise.” He sank to his knees, his fingers clutching the ring until his knuckles turned white. Memories struck him like lightning—their laughter in that tiny apartment, the nights they shared a single blanket, the mornings when she brewed cheap coffee and teased him for being dramatic about the taste. “One day, Dorian,” she had whispered into his ear when they lay together, “we’ll leave this place and start our family somewhere peaceful. And when that day comes, you won’t need to give me the world. You’ll just need to stay.” But he hadn’t stayed. He had obeyed his mother. He had let Yvette walk all over her. And now… Camille was gone. “Find her,” Dorian barked at the butler, his voice breaking. “I don’t care how—call every driver, check every street, search every corner. She left in a car, you said? Then find out who the hell was behind the wheel.” “Yes, sir,” the butler said, bowing quickly before rushing out. Dorian remained on his knees, the rings digging into his palms as he called her number again. Each time, the call ended with the same hollow response—blocked. His voice trembled as he whispered into the empty room, “Please, Camille. Come back. Don’t do this to me. Not now.” The hours dragged on, each second heavier than the last. He thought of every moment he had failed her—the anniversary he forgot, the dinners where she was left alone, the cruel words he spat just to please his mother. The memories clawed at him until tears slid down his face. And then, in the middle of his despair, a thought struck him. Mara. Her best friend. Dorian stumbled to his feet, wiping at his face. “Mara,” he muttered, reaching for his phone. He dialed her number, praying she would answer. “Hello?” her voice finally came, cautious. “Mara—it’s me, Dorian. Do you know where Camille is?” There was a pause. “I thought you two were fine. She told me you made up, that the wedding was still on. That’s why I haven’t seen her. I was supposed to go there now. Wait… what’s happening?” Dorian’s chest tightened. “No. She’s not here. She’s gone. Didn’t she tell you where she is? She’s not really with you?” Mara sighed heavily, her tone sharp with disappointment. “No. I don’t know… Oh, god. Of course, she was heartbroken, Dorian. Do you really think she could just smile and go on after what you did with Yvette? She told me she wanted to call it off. But after yesterday… she never replied. Nothing since.” His grip on the phone trembled. “She’s not home, Mara. She never came back.” The silence on the other end was heavy. Then Mara spoke softly, almost sorrowfully. “Then you’ve truly hurt her, Dorian. Hurt her enough for her to leave everything behind.” His vision blurred with tears. The weight of it all bore down on him—her absence, his guilt, the promise he had broken. But beneath it, a flicker of resolve burned. “I might know where to find her,” Dorian whispered, his voice hoarse. “Our old apartment. She once told me that when everything fell apart, she’d go back there… because that’s where we dreamed of starting our family.” Without another word, he began packing his things again, his heart pounding with desperate hope.

“Then you truly have hurt her for her to leave like that…” Those were the last words I heard as Mara’s voice carried faintly through the room. She wasn’t talking to me. She was on the phone—with him. With Dorian. I froze, the sweater I had been folding slipping from my hands. My chest tightened as if the air itself had turned against me. Mara’s back was to me, her voice taut with anger, and then the call ended abruptly. The silence that followed was unbearable until Mara sighed and turned to me, her brows drawn in worry. “Are you really sure about this, Cassie? I mean… it seems like he’s looking for you. You could talk, just like the old times when you both had misunderstandings. You used to fix things so easily.” I shook my head slowly, my throat tightening. “No. Not this time. This isn’t something a talk can fix. He hurt me, Mara. He let me be humiliated in front of everyone. He stood there while they threw food at me, mocked me, treated me like I was dirt. He didn’t even defend me.” My chest burned as I forced the words out. “So no, I won’t let him find me again.” Her gaze softened, though it didn’t lose its edge. “Do you still love him though?” I closed my eyes, the silence stretching between us. My lips trembled before I finally whispered, “Yeah. And I don’t think I’d ever not love him. That’s the problem.” The confession broke something inside me. My body leaned back against the chair, eyes closing as an old memory rose unbidden. We were in the apartment back then, our world small but enough. The cupboards were almost bare, the fridge humming weakly with only a carton of milk, some leftovers, and cheap coffee inside. The floorboards creaked whenever we walked, and the peeling wallpaper carried the scent of old paint. But it was home. Our home. Dorian was bent over the tiny stove, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to make rice and a few vegetables stretch for both of us. The pan hissed as he stirred too quickly, and I laughed from where I sat at the rickety table. “You’re going to burn it again,” I teased, resting my chin on my hand. “Do you really hate me that much, Dorian? Poisoning me slowly?” He shot me a mock glare over his shoulder. “Hey, I’ll have you know I’m a natural-born chef. This is a secret recipe.” “Secretly inedible, maybe,” I quipped, grinning. He chuckled, shaking his head as he scooped the unevenly cooked rice onto two chipped plates. The vegetables looked limp, the seasoning almost nonexistent, but he carried them to the table with the pride of a man serving a feast. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said, setting the plate in front of me with a grin so wide it made my chest ache. “One day, Camille, I’ll buy you a whole feast. Every day, every meal—you’ll never have to worry about empty cupboards again.” I stared at him for a moment, the sincerity in his eyes stealing the air from my lungs. Then I shook my head, a soft laugh escaping me as I reached across the table to take his hand. “Don’t make promises like that. I don’t care about feasts or palaces. Just stay with me. That’s all I want.” His thumb brushed against my knuckles, rough from working shifts that exhausted him as much as me. He squeezed gently, leaning forward. “I will. I’ll always stay.” I blinked rapidly, dragging myself back into the present, and Mara reached out to squeeze my hand. “Don’t worry. We’re in an island now. He won’t find us here. You’re safe.” I nodded, though my chest still ached. “Thank you, Mara. For everything.” She tilted her head, studying me. “But tell me honestly, Cassie… what are you going to do with Landon? Are you really going to marry him?” The question sat heavy on my chest. I swallowed hard, my eyes drifting away. “I’m… not sure. I have to think. I can’t make another mistake. Not again. I need to be clear with him before I decide anything.” Mara squeezed my hand again. “Whatever it is, I’ll be here. Always.” I gave her a small, weary smile and nodded. Later that evening, I busied myself with arranging my things. The room smelled faintly of sea breeze, but it couldn’t mask the heaviness in my heart. As I folded clothes into a suitcase, my hands brushed against something stiff. I pulled it out—an envelope filled with old photographs. My breath hitched. It was us. Me and Dorian, back in that little apartment. His smile was wide and carefree, his arm slung around my shoulders as though the world outside didn’t exist. In another photo, I was laughing so hard my eyes had disappeared into crescents, while Dorian looked at me like I was the only thing worth seeing. I sank onto the bed, clutching the pictures to my chest as the tears finally spilled. They burned as they slid down my cheeks, soaking the photos until the images blurred. “What happened to us?” I whispered into the silence. “When did we stop being enough for each other?” The sobs came harder, my body trembling with the weight of everything I’d lost. My chest felt tight, my stomach churning until suddenly I lurched forward. I barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting, my body rejecting everything at once—food, tears, grief. When it was over, I pressed my palm against the cool tiles, my body shivering. My head spun, vision darkening at the edges. I stumbled back toward the bed, my knees weak. And then the dizziness overwhelmed me. The last thing I saw was the photograph of us slipping from my hand to the floor as I collapsed beside it, my body giving in at last.