But my fiancé had legally married someone else yesterday.

I don't know how long I cried. Then my phone started buzzing like crazy in my bag.

The screen lit up—the hospital.

I answered. A nurse's voice came fast and tight. "Is this Joey Jensen? Your grandmother just went into heart failure. She needs bypass surgery now. Please come sign the consent forms and make the payment right away."

***

Grandma was my only family.

My parents died young. She raised me collecting recyclables.

I ran to the street like I'd lost it, hands shaking so bad I could barely open a car door.

By the time I got to the hospital, they'd already rushed her into the ER.

A doctor came up, face tight, holding a critical notice. "She's in extremely critical condition. We need surgery now. With ICU after, it'll be about $300,000. Make the payment and we'll start immediately."

Three hundred thousand.

Everything I had—savings, years of wages—sat in a joint account under Peter's name.

Back then, I called it trust. Said it was for our wedding. I gave it all to him.

My fingers shook as I dialed Peter.

It rang forever before someone picked up. Gina.

"Hello? Joey? Peter can't talk right now. We're at the police station."

Her voice was casual. Almost smug.

I bit my lip, forced myself steady. "Put Peter on. My grandma's in the ER. I need the money from our joint account."

Gina laughed, soft and mocking. "Wow, that's a stretch. You were fine canceling the wedding earlier. Now your grandma's in the ER? Peter's busy helping me deal with a fight. Don't bother him with nonsense."

I cut her off. "Gina Draper. This is life or death. I'm not joking. Put him on."

Maybe it was something in my voice. A few seconds later, Peter came on, impatient.

"Joey, what are you trying to pull now? Gina got into it with some guys at a street stall and cracked someone's head. I'm negotiating with the family."

I leaned against the hospital wall, tears slipping down. "My grandma went into heart failure. She needs $300,000 for surgery. Please transfer the money."

Peter let out a cold laugh. "So now you're cursing your own grandma just to make me come back and apologize? I saw her yesterday. She was fine. How would she suddenly have heart failure?"

I was so desperate I was basically begging. "I'm not lying! The doctor's right here. If you don't believe me, talk to him!"

I shoved the phone at the doctor. He'd just opened his mouth—

The line went dead.

Peter hung up.

I called back. His phone was already off.

Despair hit like a tidal wave.

I stared at the red light over the ER doors, my whole body going numb.

Three years ago, when Grandma got sick, Peter sold his motorcycle without a second thought to cover her bills.

He'd said, "Joey, your family is my family. I'd give everything to save your grandma."

That one line kept me with him for five years.

Now he was cleaning up his girl bro's street fight—and hung up on the call that could've saved her.

The doctor sighed and shoved the payment notice into my hand. "You need to hurry. She doesn't have time."

***

I flipped through my contacts like I was scrambling blind, calling every classmate and coworker I could think of.

After begging everywhere, I barely scraped together $50,000.

Still nowhere near $300,000.

I clenched my teeth, flagged a cab, and went straight to the police station where Gina was.

I reached the mediation room and looked in through the glass.

Gina sat there, legs crossed, hair messy, a bruise on her lip.

Peter stood next to her, holding an ice pack to her cheek like it mattered.

His eyes were full of concern. "You're too reckless. Why would you even get into a fight with those guys?"

Gina shrugged. "They wouldn't shut up. Kept harassing me. You're a real one, though, staying this late."

Peter smiled, kinda helpless, and ruffled her short hair. "If I don't stay with you, who will? I already worked it out with them. We'll pay $200,000 and settle it off the record."

The second he said money, I pushed the door open.

They both looked over.

Peter's face dropped. "Joey? You following me?"

I walked straight up to him, eyes locked on the bank card in his hand. "You just said $200,000. You paying it with that?"

He frowned like it was obvious. "So what if I am? Gina acted in self-defense. If she gets a record, how's she supposed to get a job? I'm lending it to her. Once we're married, I'll earn it back. What's the problem?"

My whole body shook. My nails dug into my palms. "That's our savings. More than half is my grandma's pension. I told you on the phone—she's in the ER. She needs that money to live."

Gina rolled her eyes. "You're still putting on a show? You followed us here just to stop Peter? It's just money. I'll pay you back after my bonus next month. You really gonna be this cheap?"

I ignored her, eyes on Peter. "Transfer the rest. Now."

He stood and shoved the card back into his wallet. "Joey Jensen, this is unbelievable. You that jealous you can't show basic decency? Gina's shaken up. Instead of caring, you're making a scene. Where's the grace of someone about to be my wife?"

I stared at him.

Familiar—and a total stranger.

His girl bro hurt someone, and he drained our savings without blinking. My grandma was in the ER, waiting on that money to live—and he called me jealous.

I sucked in a shaky breath and dropped to my knees.

"Peter, I'm begging you. I won't ask for anything back. Just transfer the rest. That's her life."

He flinched, then his face twisted with disgust.

He yanked me up. "Are you done? You really going this far just to drag me back? Let me be clear—even if you dropped right here, I still wouldn't give you a cent for that made-up story."

He shoved my hand away. I lost my balance and hit the floor.

His arm slid around Gina. They walked out.

At the door, he paused, voice cold. "Stay here. Think about what you did. Call me when you learn how to act."

I watched them disappear into the night.

My phone started ringing in my pocket.

My hands shook as I answered.

"Ms. Jensen, the patient didn't make it. Please come say your goodbyes."

***

I don't know how I made it out of the police station.

Dawn was breaking. The wind cut across my face like a blade—but it didn't touch the pain in my chest.

By the time I got back to the hospital, they'd already moved Grandma to the morgue.

A white sheet covered her small, fragile body—cutting off the last warmth I had.

I didn't cry.

I'd run out of tears sometime during that endless night.

Numb, I handled the death certificate, called the funeral home, and watched them slide her into cold storage.

Three years ago, Grandma held Peter's hand and placed mine in his. "Peter, Joey's had it rough. From now on, you're her support."

Back then, he cried harder than I did and swore he'd take care of me for life.

I thought I'd found shelter.

Turns out, he was the storm.

I pulled out the wooden hair clip he'd carved for me.

The edges were worn smooth from years of holding it. It used to mean everything.

I gripped it with both hands—and snapped it in half.

Five years of loving him snapped with it.

By the time I finished arranging Grandma's funeral, it was already noon.

The exact time we were supposed to be saying our vows.

I took a cab back to our apartment.

The second I opened the door, wedding decorations hit me—pastel balloons floating overhead, like a joke.

I went to the bedroom, pulled out two suitcases, and started packing.

Only my stuff—clothes, documents. Anything he bought, even socks, I left behind.

I zipped the last suitcase.

The door unlocked with a fingerprint scan.

Peter walked in, holding a fancy cake box.

He looked tired—but there was this easy confidence in his eyes.

In his hand was that famous blueberry cake from downtown. My favorite. Every time I got upset, he'd bring it to smooth things over.

He spotted the suitcases and frowned.

Then it vanished. He set the cake on the coffee table, voice softening. "Babe, still mad?"

He stepped in to hug me, like always.

I moved.

His hand hung there for a second before he pulled it back.

"Alright, enough with the attitude. I dragged Gina to file for divorce first thing this morning. See? I kept my word."

He pointed at the clock. "It's noon. We missed the ceremony, but we can still make the banquet. Go change. The makeup artist's already at the hotel. It's our big day. Don't let everyone laugh at us."

Like filing for divorce and bringing a cake fixed everything. Like I should just fall back into place.

I looked at him, calm.

No anger. No tears. No running into his arms.

I pulled a paper from my pocket and handed it over.

Peter paused, a faint smile forming. "What's this? A written apology? Or a prenup?"

He took it, glanced down.

His smile froze.

It was a death certificate.

Grandma's name was printed clear. Time of death: 4:05 a.m.

The exact moment he'd been at the station—pushing me aside over Gina's $200,000.

His hand started shaking. His voice broke. "Th-This... what is this supposed to mean? Joey, don't joke about this..."

I looked at him, calm. "You don't need to divorce her. The wedding's canceled for good. So are we."