Ethan tiptoed into bed, careful not to wake me.

Later that night, I listened to his steady breathing, then slipped quietly out of bed.

In his briefcase, I found another phone. I didn’t know the password, but I carefully used his finger to unlock it with the fingerprint sensor.

When the screen lit up, my heartbeat quickened.

I locked myself in the bathroom and began scrolling. The more I saw, the more I realized I had loved a monster all these years.

The phone was full of filth—group chats of scantily clad women, explicit photos, and lewd banter with other men.

"This girl is hot."

"That’s nothing. I’ve seen wilder ones."

Ethan chimed in: "Hook me up!"

My stomach churned. So he had been unfaithful as early as graduate school.

I had always been conservative, wanting to wait until marriage. When I asked Ethan if he thought I was old-fashioned, he had said:

"Baby, how could you think that? If you’re not ready, I’ll respect your choice. You’ll be mine sooner or later."

But that wasn’t respect. He already had countless other options.

I opened a chat labeled “ChloeBaby.”

The girl was Chloe Adams, our wedding photographer.

There were photos and videos of them together in bed. Ethan even praised her beauty.

The worst part was realizing they had hooked up just three days after meeting—right after our first photo session.

He had reduced our seven years to nothing.

So when he said he was reviewing wedding photos, he was really going to see her.

How laughable. What I saw as a sacred step toward marriage had become evidence of my humiliation.

And why her, of all people—the photographer we’d both met together?

Just three days, and he was already in her bed. Then what did our seven years mean?

I struggled to breathe, gasping for air.

I copied the photos and videos, then put his phone back exactly where I found it.

The next morning, Ethan behaved as if nothing had happened—up early, making me breakfast. He played the part of a devoted fiancé. So I decided to play along too.

During breakfast, I feigned casual interest.

"Why don’t we go together to the bridal boutique today? We can check how our wedding photos turned out. If they’re not good, we can choose new ones."

Ethan’s hand hesitated, then he quickly forced a smile.

"Sure. Chloe mentioned they also offer romantic wedding video montages now. We could play one at the ceremony for the guests. If you’d like, we can film one."

"Sounds good." I agreed without hesitation.

At the boutique, when Chloe saw me walk in, the smile on her lips froze. Ethan was the first to recover.

"Oh, we’re here to check on the finished photos."

The moment I heard it was about wedding photos, I saw Chloe Adams (hereafter Chloe) curve her lips into a sly smile.

It wasn’t until I saw the photos of me and Ethan Carter (Ethan) that I realized why she was smirking.

The entire selection was perfunctory—either long shots or pictures without my face.

This so-called wedding album was pure trash. Honestly, you could swap out the bride and no one would notice.

I tapped my fingers lightly on the table and lifted my eyes to Ethan.

"These are the photos you’ve spent two months carefully selecting?"

Ethan clearly hadn’t expected Chloe to be so brazen. He could only rub his nose awkwardly.

Chloe, unwilling to let Ethan look bad, rushed to my side.

"Sophia, young people these days like this kind of atmospheric style. Close-up portraits like yours are outdated."

She was mocking my age, but I was only twenty-six. Yes, she was a few years younger than me, but she had no idea that maturity also had its advantages.

I ignored her and slammed the table hard.

"Get your Store Manager out here. Is this how you run a business?"

Hearing that, Chloe panicked. She quickly blinked at Ethan, and he understood, stepping forward to block me.

"Sophia, come on, these aren’t so bad."

I laughed bitterly, pulling free of his grip and pointing at the photos.

"So you think wedding photos without my face are fine? Then maybe a wedding without me would be even better, right?"

My question caught Ethan off guard. At that moment, the Store Manager came over.

After hearing what happened, he apologized sincerely, then turned on Chloe.

"What were you thinking? You insisted on taking this job yourself!"

Chloe’s eyes turned red with tears. She glanced pitifully at Ethan.

"But Mr. Carter asked for it this way. How is this my fault?"

I sneered.

"Store Manager, I paid ten thousand dollars. Either refund me, or—"

I didn’t finish, but my meaning was clear.

The Store Manager promised to redo everything, but Chloe refused. She tossed down her camera and ran out crying.

"Why should I?"

Ethan instinctively tried to chase after her, but after a few steps, he remembered I was still there.

On the way back, Ethan claimed there was an urgent meeting at the corporation and dumped me on the roadside.

I knew exactly where he was going—to find Chloe.

If not for this mess, today would have been the day we got our marriage license at city hall.

But none of that mattered anymore.

I checked the GPS location on his phone: Ethan had gone straight to our new house.

A house I had never even lived in, yet it had already been used by someone else. How ironic.

In the end, I still went along with Ethan’s wishes—we filmed that romantic wedding video montage, with Chloe as the photographer.

Seeing how furious she was, her lips nearly twisting with rage, was the first time I felt my money had been well spent.

On the wedding day, Ethan secretly swapped out the cameraman for Chloe again.

Naturally, she didn’t disappoint. On the big screen, our romantic montage played.

Ethan looked at me with feigned tenderness, his hand trembling uncontrollably.

I wanted to ask him why he hadn’t pursued acting—it would’ve suited him perfectly.

The guests offered their congratulations, but suddenly, the screen flickered to black.

Then, it began playing Ethan’s laptop recordings from graduate school.