By the time I had washed up and was ready to sleep, a message popped up on my phone.

It was from Matt.

Matt: [Mel is in my care now. Tonight, she's my bride.]

Attached to the taunting words was a photo.

In the photo, a tall, lean man had one hand tangled in Melissa's hair, pressing her against a bathroom sink, while the other hand held his phone up to snap a picture in the mirror.

The angle of the shot left little to the imagination—it didn't show anything explicit, but the context was unmistakable. Melissa's face was visible, her expression was one of euphoric abandon, and her eyes were hazy with lust.

For a moment, it felt like a bee had stung my chest. I pressed my hand against my heart and let out a soft, bitter laugh. I had no business hoping for anything from her anymore.

Matt was nothing more than an opportunist, a man looking to climb the social ladder by latching onto her. If that was the life she wanted, so be it.

I ignored his message, continued drying my hair, and prepared for bed. But apparently, my indifference didn't sit well with him.

When I opened Instagram, I saw that he had added a new post—a public declaration meant for all to see.

[A woman’s heart belongs to the one she’s with. Even if she is forced into a marriage for family reasons, her heart will always find its way back to where it truly belongs.

On her wedding night, my lover still found her way to me, without hesitation. Her body will never belong to another man, not even for a second.

She's mine. Now and always. #UnbreakableBond #HeartAndSoul #Destiny]

He included a gallery of nine photos.

There was a picture of Melissa resting her blissful face on his chest. Another showed their fingers intertwined against snowy white sheets. One was a close-up of her collarbone, marked with unmistakable evidence of their intimacy.

I won't lie—it hurt. But the pain only hardened my resolve.

I took a screenshot of his Instagram post and posted it on my own with a caption: [On our wedding night, my wife confessed her heart belongs to someone else. We've decided to part ways amicably.]

I powered off my phone and went to sleep.

I had braced myself for a restless night, but surprisingly, I slept dreamlessly until morning.

The moment I turned my phone back on, the house line rang.

I prepared myself for a tirade, expecting my father's scathing disapproval. But when I answered, there was nothing but silence for five long seconds, as though he was gathering himself.

Finally, his voice came through, calm but heavy. "You've hit a wall, I see. Make sure you take care of yourself moving forward."

Not a word of reproach.

The unexpected kindness hit me hard. My nose stung, and my eyes grew warm.

"Mm," I croaked, nodding as though he could see me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I whispered, "I'm sorry for embarrassing you and Mom. It won't happen again."

How childish I'd been. Offering up my dignity to someone who didn't deserve it wasn't enough—I'd dragged my parents into the mud with me.

My father let out a long sigh. "As long as you're okay." And with that, he hung up.

They had warned me, over and over, that forcing something that wasn't meant to be would only bring bitterness.

But I had believed that Melissa's infatuation with her so-called soulmate was fleeting, that she'd eventually come to see reason and choose a proper partner. I had convinced myself that I was the right choice.

When her father approached me with the marriage proposal, I had taken it as proof that fate had been on my side all along. I thought I was the one who could make her happy.

I had been a fool, not just to myself but to my parents. Marriage wasn't just a union of two hearts—it was a binding of two families. And I had failed them.

After the call, I glanced at my phone. Hundreds of unread messages and missed calls flooded the screen.

Melissa's parents and Melissa herself had called repeatedly, as had friends, relatives, and even business associates, all eager for an explanation.

When she couldn't reach me by phone, Melissa had resorted to sending me messages.

Melissa: [Why did you post about me on your Instagram? Did you think it would somehow force me to have a change of heart?]

Melissa: [How low can you go? I'll tell you once and for all: I don't want you. I've never wanted you. Matt's the only one I love!]

Melissa: [Let's see who ends up more humiliated—me or you, Mr. Proud Husband. Maybe wearing a green hat suits you!"

She didn't stop there. Perhaps thinking my silence was defeat, she followed her usual routine and took her grievances public. Her latest post on social media mirrored Matt's antics, right down to the same self-righteous indignation:

[A marriage without love is nothing but a cage. I may have been forced into it, but my body will forever belong to my true love.]

Our mutual friends, apparently unable to stomach her brazenness, began flooding the comments with scathing rebukes.

But Melissa was undeterred. She clapped back at every critic with equal parts pettiness and venom.

I didn't bother engaging. I'd already said my piece when I posted that announcement. It wasn't a cry for sympathy but a severance—clean and final. She could rant and rave to the heavens; my conscience was clear.

She was no longer the little girl who used to follow me around, pouting and seeking my attention. It was time I let go of this lingering attachment.

I did one thing before shutting my phone for the morning: I gave her post a like.

It was a quiet acknowledgment, a signal that I was done looking back. Then I busied myself with the mundane rituals of preparing for work.

*

Melissa and I had grown up side by side as neighbors. In our little cul-de-sac of grand houses and sprawling lawns, the neighborhood kids often banded together, but Melissa was special to me. She had always stood out to me. I became her self-appointed guardian.

I tutored her through tricky math problems, chauffeured her to and from school, braided her hair, and even rationed her candy when she overindulged. Somewhere along the way, those habits hardened into something I couldn't shake.

The adults joked about it often enough. "Raising yourself a little wife, are you?" they'd say. Melissa, never one to miss a beat, would grin and declare, "When I grow up, I'm going to marry Shawn!"

Well, she grew up. She met Matt. And she forgot every word of it.

The memory stung, but not enough to linger. It was long past time to let go. I gathered myself, squared my shoulders, and prepared to face the day.

That's when my phone rang.

The caller was her father, his voice barely steady amidst the chaos in the background. I could hear furniture crashing, her mother's high-pitched sobs, and Melissa's unmistakable screams cutting through the din.

"Shawn," her father pleaded, desperation cracking through his usual calm. "Please, come to our place. We need you."

Before I could ask for details, Melissa's shrill voice surged through the receiver. "If you don't agree to the divorce, I'll die right here in front of you all!"

I sighed. "Alright," I said simply and hung up.

I grabbed the divorce papers and headed out. Whatever melodrama awaited, I was sure this was the answer she wanted.

The Olson residence was a battlefield of broken furniture and frayed tempers.

Melissa stood in the center, her hair disheveled, one hand clutching a fruit knife pressed against her wrist. A thin trickle of blood traced a line down her arm. I could see the manic fury in her eyes.

Her father looked like he'd aged a decade overnight, his graying hair more prominent and his expression etched with defeat. Her mother, meanwhile, was inconsolable, alternating between tearful pleas and frantic attempts to grab the knife from Melissa's hand.

It was clear what had happened. Her father, ever the traditionalist, had dragged her here to make amends and salvage the marriage. Even now, he still believed I could forgive and forget, that Melissa and I could somehow move past this chaos.

Melissa had other ideas. Her tantrum escalated until the knife came into play. Her parents were out of their depth, and I was their last hope.

For a moment, I couldn't help but find the whole scene darkly amusing. If she was this resistant to the marriage, why hadn't she protested before we tied the knot? No one had forced her to walk down the aisle. It was her choice—or so I thought.

I voiced the question aloud. "If you didn't want this, why didn't you speak up before? Marriage is a choice, Mel. You could have said no."

Her response was chilling in its clarity. "Because you wouldn't have let me refuse! Isn't this what you wanted all along? Aren't you thrilled now? I'll tell you why I went through with it: to show Matt just how far I was willing to go for him. Even in this sham of a marriage, I belong only to him. For his sake, I'll do anything."

"She's lost her mind—completely lost it!" George Olson roared, his finger shaking as he pointed at Melissa. "I've told you, it wasn't Shawn forcing this marriage. I was the one who begged him to marry you!"

His wife, Katie, nodded furiously from beside him. "Exactly, Mel. Now that Shawn is here, sit down and listen to us. Let's talk this through properly."

But Melissa's fury only mounted. "Shawn, have you brainwashed my parents? Why else would they grovel before you like this? Even now, they refuse to let me divorce you! They want me to apologize? To you? Let me make this clear—it's not happening!"

Seeing George's temper boil over, his hand trembling with the urge to slap sense into her, I quickly stepped in, holding him back despite his strength. "George, let's not force Mel. If she truly loves someone else, there's no point in holding on to this marriage."

Tears welled up in George's eyes, and he gripped my arm tightly, his voice trembling. "Shawn… please… don't…"

Before he could finish, Melissa hurled the fruit knife onto the table and stormed toward me. She shoved me hard. "What are you begging him for? I don't want him! I've never liked him—not in the past, not now, not ever! Even without Matt, I still wouldn't want to be with him!"

Her glare pierced me like a blade. It was the kind of look one reserves for their worst enemy.

I wasn't sure when things had turned so sour between us. Once upon a time, she'd been the little girl who leaned on me for everything. Now, she was someone entirely different—someone who didn't need me at all.

I swallowed the ache rising in my chest and forced my voice steady. Turning to George and Katie, I said earnestly, "There's no need to push Mel any further. Let's part on good terms. A divorce would be better for both of us."

George froze, his eyes widening. "No, Shawn, you can't divorce her! This is my fault—I spoiled her rotten! Let me apologize on her behalf—"

But before he could finish, Melissa grabbed his arm, pulling him back with a violent tug. She turned her fury back on me, her voice shrill and accusing. "Shawn, don't think you can use this divorce to manipulate my dad. I'm telling you—no matter how much you pester us, you'll never have me!"

"Mel, how could you turn into someone like this?" Katie's voice broke into sobs as she stared at her daughter in disbelief, shaking her head.

I let out a slow, measured breath, then reached into my bag and pulled out the divorce papers I'd prepared. I held them out to her, my tone calm but resolute. "Mel, I've already signed the papers. I agree to the divorce. I'm serious about this."

Melissa snatched the documents from my hand, her eyes darting over the pages. Before she could say anything, George lunged forward, yanking the papers away with trembling hands.

His voice shook with frustration and anger. "Mel, enough of this nonsense! Don't you see what you're doing? This marriage—this arrangement—was all my doing! I begged Shawn to marry you. I used the years of friendship between our families to guilt him into it. All I wanted was for you to keep living as carefree as you always have, even after our family lost everything!"

Melissa let out a harsh laugh, her eyes filled with scorn. She turned to me with a sneer, her voice dripping with mockery. "Was this your plan all along, Shawn? You knew my parents wouldn't consent to our divorce no matter what. Isn't this pathetic? Another excuse, another lie! How low can you go? Can't you just leave me alone?"

And with that, she grabbed the divorce papers and flung them in my face. Before I could react, she spun on her heel and bolted from the room.

George instinctively rushed after her, calling her name as he neared the staircase. But in his haste, his foot slipped. Time seemed to slow as he tumbled down the stairs, his body landing hard at the bottom. The sickening thud echoed through the house.

Blood began to pool around his head, spreading across the floor like an ominous shadow.

Melissa froze mid-step, her face draining of color. She turned slowly, her eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at the scene. "No… no…" she whispered, trembling.

Katie let out a piercing scream and flung herself down the stairs, collapsing beside her husband. Her sobs filled the house as she desperately shook his limp body, begging him to wake up.

My own heart pounded as I pulled out my phone and dialed for an ambulance. Within minutes, we were on our way to the hospital.

In the waiting room outside the emergency unit, Katie clung to my arm, silently weeping into a tissue.

Melissa sat a few seats away, her face pale and lifeless. After what felt like an eternity of silence, she suddenly pulled out her phone, her hands shaking as she dialed a number.

"Matt," she sobbed. "I don't know what to do. My dad… he fell down the stairs. He's in the emergency room now. I'm so scared. Can you come to Vernicia Hospital now? Please… as quickly as you can."