To placate Kathryn, who was throwing her hundredth dramatic fit, Eric asked me to step down from my role as the bride.

“She’s just young and a bit clueless. Could you do me a favor?” he pleaded. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be the real Mrs. Jimenez.”

I clutched the edge of my wedding dress, hesitating before giving a silent nod. As I returned to the changing room, I overheard him jesting with his friends.

“Savanna’s just like a loyal pet; she wouldn’t dare to oppose me.”

“Are you really letting the girlfriend take center stage at your wedding? I bet you could tell her to give up her place on the marriage certificate too, and she’d go along with it.”

Eric laughed smugly. “Definitely, want to wager on it?”

He bet with his friend that after the wedding, he’d get a marriage certificate with Kathryn, and even if I were shattered, I’d quietly comply. I stood there for a while, then turned to leave without a word.

Outside the bridal shop, I glanced at the text message that had just arrived:

[Sis, let’s ditch this wedding, okay?]

I replied: [Okay!]

As soon as I sent the message, the phone rang from the other end. Thankfully, I had it on silent mode, avoiding any interruption in the room where Eric was video-calling his friends, still poking fun at me.

“If she can’t handle this, how can she be the Jimenez family’s matriarch?” he joked. “She can’t leave me. I’ll just get her a few gifts to win her back.”

“If Savanna’s really that easy to handle, I’ll give you my new sports car as a wedding present!”

“Deal!”

Amid their laughter, I retreated to the dressing room, locking the door behind me. Finally, the tears fell, no longer under my control. After five years with Eric, he fell for a spirited college student. He bought her houses, cars, and even got her a job, yet she always looked down on it.

“You can't buy me,” she said with disdain.

Whenever she felt wronged, she pulled the same act of leaving and having him chase after her, and Eric found joy in it. The last time, to please Kathryn, he burned my paintings set for a competition, compensating me with jewelry she had rejected.

Another time, because Kathryn claimed I slighted her, he threw me out into the snow wearing only a thin nightgown. Not only did he capture my distress in photos sent to Kathryn, but he messaged her, [See, I vented your anger for you, so hurry back, I miss you.]

The next day, while administering cold medicine to me, he said, “She’s just a pretty distraction, fun to keep around. Why stress over her?”

Such episodes had occurred ninety-nine times. This was the hundredth request to step aside as the bride. I was weary and tired of playing his games. I wiped my tears, quickly changed out of the wedding dress, and found over thirty unread messages on my phone.

The last one read: [Sis, you didn’t lie to me, did you? I’ll take it seriously!]

I promptly replied: [I mean it.]

As soon as the message went out, someone knocked on the dressing room door.

“Savanna, are you ready?” Eric called.

I quickly composed myself before opening the door. His eyes landed on my slightly red eyes, and he smirked.

“Really, tears? It’s just a wedding. I’ll make it up to you later.”

I shook my head. “No, my fake eyelashes got in my eyes while changing.”

He dropped the subject.

On the way back, he asked where I’d like to go for our honeymoon. I casually replied that I hadn’t decided yet, but in my heart, I was already planning my escape. Before getting out of the car, he pulled out a jewelry box from the glove compartment, along with a piece of lingerie. The mood in the car turned suddenly tense.

Eric cleared his throat and discreetly slipped the lingerie away. Then he opened the jewelry box and placed it before me. “I got this for you. This whole wedding situation upset you, but you’re always so understanding, right?”

I looked at the cheap diamond bracelet inside, and bitterness welled up again. My dresser drawer already housed seven identical bracelets. This eighth one seemed to signal the end of us.

As I watched the car’s taillights fade away, I finally made a call to the man restlessly waiting on the other end:

“In a week, I’ll head to France with you.”

That day just happened to be Eric and Kathryn’s wedding day.

---

That night, I dreamed of the time I first met Eric. It was after my parents had passed away, and the Jimenez family had taken me in. Entering such an unfamiliar world, I was filled with anxiety.

I vividly remember Eric, standing proudly on the staircase in a pair of dungarees. “You’re my new sister? Don’t worry; I’ll look after you!”

He’d sneak in juicy roast beef for me late at night or skip school to hunt down the trendiest hair clips in town. When I was mocked for my accent, he’d mimic my speech to greet everyone.

Through those tough days, Eric stood by me. Like a knight, he fended off anyone who tried to bully me, saying, “Don’t worry, Savanna. I’m your knight; I’ll protect you forever.”

I believed him and dove headlong into those promises. Before graduating from college, Eric was totally devoted to me. But after graduation, as he took over the family business, women began to flock around him.

He remained attentive to me—and to them, too—claiming it was all inevitable in the business world. Then Kathryn appeared, and his heart visibly shifted. Initially, I argued and fought with him, but gradually, my arguments became a game to him—one he never took seriously.

Eventually, I poured my energy into painting instead of fighting. He saw it as my surrender, openly flaunting Kathryn at events and gatherings. But little did Eric know another man had entered my life.

I met Elliot at an art exhibition. We both admired an obscure painting, engaging in a lively debate all afternoon, only for the artist to sell it to Elliot due to a personal connection. I left the exhibition disappointed.

But the next day, Elliot gifted me the painting, marking the start of our bond. During countless lonely days after Eric abandoned me, Elliot was there. Though three years younger than me, he took care of me.

A flurry of message notifications pulled me fully awake. It was a text from Kathryn. Pictures and a recording. Though I had a rough idea about the recording's content, my hands trembled as I played it.

The audio began with intimate sounds, followed by Kathryn's seductive voice: “Eric, are you really making me your bride? What if your fiancée gets mad?”

Eric's breathless reply: “Her anger would only make you happier.”

“I’m worried your fiancée might run off, leaving you to blame me.”

“If she runs, you’ll just have to make it up to me! You promised tonight you'd satisfy me!”

The recording ended with breathy sighs.

Suddenly, my stomach churned with nausea. I rushed to the bathroom but only managed to dry heave, having skipped dinner. Sinking to the cold tiles against the toilet, my finger accidentally hit the speed dial on my phone.

My heart skipped, fearing I'd dialed Eric. But before I could hang up, a familiar voice came through:

“Sis?”

I snapped back to reality. My speed dial had long been switched to Elliot’s number.

“Sis, are you there? Did something happen?”

Listening to his voice filled with concern, my tears fell onto the phone's screen.

“Sis, what’s wrong? Please, talk to me!”

“Elliot, I miss you.”

The line was silent for a moment, then I heard the rustling sounds of him getting dressed.

“Sis, I’ll come to New York and find you now.”

I quickly said, “No, Elliot, I just had a nightmare. You said you’d be busy before heading overseas, right? Focus on that. We’ll meet at the airport in a week.”

That finally convinced Elliot to stay put. Before hanging up, he kept reminding me, “If anything happens, call me right away. Don’t worry, I’m always here.”

His reassurance of always being there calmed my restless heart.

The morning after I woke up, I began preparing for my move overseas. This trip to France was more than just a visit—it was emigration. I didn't plan on returning anytime soon. Fortunately, Elliot assured me he would handle all the paperwork. All I had to do was sort through the things I couldn't take with me.

Most of my belongings were gifts from Eric's parents and Eric himself, but they never reused second-hand items, so I took the responsibility of dealing with them. I donated all the clothes I couldn’t take with me. As for the jewelry, I sold each piece and deposited the money into an account I planned to send to Eric's parents on the day I left. After completing these tasks, I headed to the hospital for a full medical check-up. Keeping myself busy made the loneliness a bit more bearable.

During this time, Eric didn't send me a single message or call. Just when I thought our years together would end without even a chance to say "goodbye," I received a message from him:

"Why haven't you reached out? Don't you miss me?"

"I'm on a business trip, and I'll bring you a gift when I get back."

He was indeed on a business trip. But instead of his secretary or assistant accompanying him, it was Kathryn Silva. I knew because, on the first day they left New York, I got a provocative message from her. I glanced at it briefly before blocking her number.

Seeing that I didn't respond to his message, Eric sent several more:

"Are you upset?"

"Savanna, you know I don't like it when you act this way."

I wanted to block him just like I'd blocked Kathryn. But with only three days left until my departure, it seemed easier to ignore it than to stir up more trouble. So, I replied dismissively:

"No, just busy painting."

His reply came almost instantly:

"Good girl!"

I rolled my eyes and set my phone to silent mode. Then, I packed my suitcase and moved out of the house where I had spent the past five years.

The next day, Eric returned and called me. I hesitated momentarily before answering.

"Savanna, did you move out?"

I gave a barely audible "mm-hmm."

After a pause, I added, "After all, it was meant to be your marital home. I thought it best to leave it for your new bride."

Eric chuckled to himself: "I've told you, the wedding is just to make a young lady happy. Don't take it too seriously."

"But Jojo, you're so understanding, I never want to let you go."

"How about this," he paused before continuing, "after the wedding, I'll take Kathryn to the registry office to get the marriage certificate."

I stayed silent, gripping the phone as my hand trembled slightly.

"Don't worry, as soon as we get the certificate, I'll file for a divorce with her. Once the waiting period is over..."

I cut him off before he could finish: "Alright."

Cheers erupted on the other end. Before Eric could say anything else, I hung up.

It wasn't long before Eric called again: "Why did you hang up? Are you mad?"

"Jojo, it's all an act. Don't take it to heart. In a month, I'll give you the grand wedding you deserve."

I heard his friends mocking me in the background. I pretended not to notice and spoke softly:

"Eric Jimenez, are you free the night after tomorrow? I have something I want to discuss with you."

Eric was taken aback. Before we were together, I used to call him "Eric." After we got together, it was always "darling." This was the first time I addressed him formally by his full name. But he quickly regained his composure, his tone cheerful:

"Sure thing."