Chapter 7
As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes darkened further.
“Lena, is that really how little you think of me?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong-why are you breaking up with me?!”
I froze, caught off guard by his shamelessness.
I never imagined he could be so blind to the hurt he caused-so unapologetically self-righteous.
A few nearby guests at the banquet had begun glancing our way, sensing the tension between
I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the venue.
We found a quiet restaurant nearby. I planned to finish things, clearly and finally.
The moment we sat down, Grant tried to soften his tone-as if concern could cover the damage already done-but his words were clumsy and awkward.
‘Lena, the food abroad must be terrible. You’ve lost weight… Come back with me.”
‘When we get back, we’ll get the marriage certificate right away. I’ll give you the dream wedding you always wanted.”
For eight years, I had dreamed of marrying him.
But every time I brought it up, he’d say the timing wasn’t right.
He claimed the company was at a critical stage, and that we should wait until it went public.
Then, a month ago, he proposed. I was caught completely off guard.
was thrilled. I threw myself into planning the wedding, pouring heart and soul into every detail.
But then he brought Samantha home.
‘Lena,” he said, “you’re going to be my wife now-you have to treat Samantha like your own
sister.”
Only later did I realize: he didn’t propose out of love.
He just wanted me around to take care of her.
And because of her, the wedding was postponed over and over again.
My chest tightened at the memory. I rubbed at my temples, trying to push the ache away.
looked at him squarely. “Grant, we’ve broken up. We’re done.”
He frowned, clearly displeased.
“Lena, why are you being so stubborn? Must you keep forcing this?”
“I told you before-Samantha was in pain during her period. I only let her stay with us for a few days to take care of her. Why can’t you be more understanding?”
I didn’t respond. There was nothing left to say.
Instead, I took out my phone and scrolled to a series of messages-screenshots of all the texts Samantha had sent me.
I turned the screen toward him.
of them kissing.
The color drained from Grant’s face in an instant.
“Lena,” he said quickly, “she was ‘drunk. I told her off. I scolded her badly.”
“She’s just a child. Spoiled. You shouldn’t take it to heart.”
A child?
I almost laughed.
The ‘child’ he was defending was two years younger than I.
I leaned forward, my voice steady and cold.
“Grant, your company is nearing its IPO, right?”
“Tell me if the media got hold of a story about the company’s CEO cheating on his fiancée, how
do
you think that would affect the investors’ confidence?”
Finally, he understood.
This wasn’t a confrontation.
It was a warning.
I wasn’t here to ask for apologies-I was cutting ties.
His jaw tightened. His fists curled at his sides.
“You… you’re threatening me?”
“Call it whatever you want,” I said, calm as ever. “But if you really think I’m bluffing, try me.”
His lips parted, his voice faltering.
“Fine,” he said after a pause, his eyes red with anger. “I hope you don’t regret this.”
I watched as he stormed out of the restaurant, already calling to book the next available flight home.
Only then did I finally feel like I could breathe.
On my way back to the banquet, I noticed a tall figure standing just outside the entrance.
Quentin.
As I approached, he smiled.
“I got a little bored inside,” he said lightly. “Came out for some fresh air.”
I didn’t say anything, but in my heart, I was grateful he was there.
Another month passed.
I had fully settled into my new life abroad.
I’d even adopted a puppy-Dun Dun-who was now the apple of my eye.
On a quiet weekend afternoon, Quentin dropped by to let me try one of his latest recipes.
I was out front in the garden, giving Dun Dun a bath, my hands covered in suds, hair stuck to my forehead.
Quentin laughed when he saw me.
He scooped up a spoonful of food and offered it to me.
I took a bite-and my eyes lit up in surprise.
“This is amazing!” I exclaimed, my voice muffled by the taste.
He grinned, clearly pleased.
Seeing the soap bubbles on my cheeks, he gently wiped them away with a napkin.
“Look at you,” he chuckled. “You look like a messy little kitten.”
