Tristan Moreno and I are asked when we're getting married when we attend a class reunion.

"We're undecided."

"1st of October."

Our answers come simultaneously. His head shoots up, and he looks at me with anger and disbelief. I ignore him and explain to my classmates, "I'm getting married on the 1st of October. You're all invited."

I know what Tristan wants to ask me. He and I have dated for eight years, but he's never discussed marriage with me.

He drags me to a corner, looking furious. "Didn't we agree to put marriage on hold? Do you take pleasure in forcing me into this?"

I pry his fingers off my wrist and say, "You can put it on hold for as long as you want. That doesn't stop me from getting married."

He's long since gotten bored of me—he's found a younger woman but thinks he's done well in keeping it a secret.

Fortunately, he's not the man I'm marrying.

When I came home after the New Year, my college classmates organized a reunion. A lot of them were already married. Some even brought their kids along.

When they found out that Tristan Moreno and I still hadn't tied the knot, our class president, Mason Hopkins, looked less than pleased. He pressed us for a wedding date.

"We're undecided."

"1st of October."

Tristan and I spoke simultaneously.

He turned to me sharply, his frown creasing his brows. His expression darkened as he stared at me, and confusion and irritation flickered in his gaze.

I knew exactly what he wanted to ask because we had never once discussed the wedding date.

I had brought our marriage up two years ago, but back then, his career was taking off. He told me he didn't want any distractions and that he'd marry me once things settled down.

I never mentioned it again after that, and he was perfectly content to let it slip from memory.

Our completely different answers left the whole table bewildered. Everyone exchanged glances, unsure of what was going on.

"Looks like you two haven't talked this through. Tristan, you're the man here. You should take the lead." Mason chuckled, trying to smooth things over.

Ignoring Tristan's stare, I turned to Mason and the others and said clearly, "I'm getting married on the 1st of October. You're all invited."

Mason froze for a moment. His gaze shifted between Tristan and me. Then, he offered his congratulations before teasing Tristan, "Man, you're so secretive. You had a date set and didn't tell anyone?"

"Yeah, Tristan. Aren't we friends? Are you trying to keep us off the guest list?"

A few of the guys laughed and teased him.

Suppressing his anger, Tristan forced a smile. Meanwhile, I sat upright, catching glimpses of him turning to look at me again and again as if he had something to ask.

I knew he was brimming with questions. But I didn't feel like explaining because I didn't have to.

As the night went on, everyone kept reminiscing about college, especially our relationship.

"I still remember that freshman welcome party," one of the guys said. "Esther walked in wearing that red dress. Man, she looked like a blooming rose. Every guy in the room was staring."

"But Tristan was the boldest. He said right then and there that he was gonna pursue her and that he had to make her his wife."

"Yeah, we all helped him out back then." One of Tristan's dormmates laughed.

"It took years, but you two are finally making it official. We're all happy for you."

They were all excited, caught up in nostalgia.

Tristan, on the other hand, barely reacted. He seemed lost in thought, opening his mouth a few times like he wanted to say something but never going through with it.

After a few rounds of drinks, when no one was paying attention, Tristan suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me out of the private room. He pinned me against the wall.

"Didn't we agree to put marriage on hold? Do you take pleasure in forcing me into this?"

Tristan's face was filled with anger as he gripped my wrist tightly, as if he were about to break it.

"You can put it on hold for as long as you want. That doesn't stop me from getting married."

He let out a mocking laugh, and his expression was full of disdain. "I'm not interested in getting married. No matter what tricks you pull, you're not gonna change that."

Biting down on the pain, I pried his fingers off my wrist. "Let go of me, Tristan!"

"Oh, I'll let go. But only after you go back in there and tell them you were joking about the wedding."

"You've got it all wrong," I said. "I am getting married. It just has nothing to do with you."

Tristan froze for a moment, and I took the chance to yank my hand free.

"Trying to play hard to get?" He scoffed. "Don't come crying when this blows up in your face. I'm not playing along."

"You don't have to worry about that."

I rubbed my reddened wrist, then turned to leave.

"What do you mean? What's wrong with you? If you wanna break up, just say it!"

He grabbed my arm from behind, his expression livid.

I stopped, turned around, and looked him in the eye. "Haven't we already broken up?"

To me, we had been over for a long time.

Three months ago, I stumbled across something he had posted online.

"We've been together for seven years. I remember coming home late one night and finding her asleep on the couch. When she woke up, her hair was a mess. She yawned as she rubbed her eyes and told me she made me soup to sober up.

"That look really killed the mood, and I lost my appetite for the hangover soup she made. I suddenly realized that I don't love her anymore. She used to be my goddess, the girl I pursued for two whole years.

"But now, that goddess had turned into an ordinary woman who didn't bother to care about herself anymore. But we've been together for seven years. We were classmates. Our lives are too tangled up. Breaking up isn't easy. God, what a nightmare."

The post was dated a year ago. So, he had grown sick of me more than a year ago.

Of course, I had sensed the shift. He had changed—become more impatient, more distant. At first, I thought it was just work stress.

Later, I found out that he was getting close with the new intern at the company. He'd casually take her out to meet friends. One time, we even ran into each other at a party.

He had explained nonchalantly, "She's just an intern from work. She knows nothing about the world and is always curious. So I'd show her around."

I didn't argue, nor did I question him. I simply nodded. "Okay."

The young woman, unbothered, held onto his arm with a bright, sweet smile. There was a glint of challenge in her eyes.

"You must be Esther Wilder. Tristan's told me about you."

She was glowing. It was clear that Tristan was doting on her.

Later, I looked her up. Her name was Chloe Murray. She was 21 years old, with a beautiful face and an outgoing personality.

My friend said that my looks, character, family background, and education all far surpassed hers.

"She's got nothing on you except for that overwhelming sense of youth."

I was almost 28. Youth was no longer on my side.

Realizing this, I felt defeated and hurt, unsure of where Tristan and I were heading.

It wasn't until I saw the post that I understood. Chloe wasn't the root of the problem. What he was drawn to was the sense of novelty. If not her, it would be someone else.

During one of his outbursts, I brought up breaking up. He thought I was just being dramatic and didn't try to stop me. Instead, he told me to get out.

Even though I had already made up my mind to end things, when he yelled at me to leave, the tears still couldn't help but fall.

He looked at me with a face full of disgust.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I ran out of his apartment. Later, when I went back to grab my things, I overheard him talking to his friends.

His friend suggested that he should try to comfort me, considering all the years we'd spent together.

He just replied indifferently, "If she really walks, great. Then I can finally be with Chloe without sneaking around."

"You pursued Esther for two years straight, and now you're just letting her go like this?"

"What, am I supposed to put her on a pedestal? I've been done with her for ages."

"You don't think that makes you a total bad guy?"

Tristan let out a scoff as he leaned back in his chair.

"After all these years, I've done enough for her. I yelled at her once, and now she's threatening to break up. Fine, let her be. Maybe giving her some space will do her good."

"Don't regret it if she doesn't come back," his friend said.

Tristan let out a sharp snort. "Don't worry. Esther won't run off. But if she did, I'd actually thank her. Chloe's been with me long enough. I think it's time to make her official."

"Jesus, you're heartless."

His friends shook their heads. Tristan slowly exhaled a ring of smoke and spoke with an indifferent expression.

"It's been eight years. I'm really done with her. Plus, she's like a plank in bed. Chloe's more on the same page with me."

I clenched my fists. My nails dug into my palm, drawing a deep red line of blood, but I didn't feel it.

After Tristan left, I packed up my things and went back to my parents' house.

Only Tristan and his close friends knew I brought up the breakup, but no one seemed to care.

When I got home, he was off celebrating Christmas with Chloe, then went skiing in Weisse before traveling to Egrein.

Meanwhile, I wasn't exactly idle either. I went on date after date.

Throughout the three months, neither of us contacted the other.

It wasn't until Mason sent us an invitation for our class reunion that we finally spoke again.

"What did you say? We've broken up?"

Tristan raised his voice, as if the idea just hit him. "Esther, you really need to know when to stop!"

"Did I say something wrong? We broke up over three months ago. You agreed to it, remember?"

He stood frozen, clearly unprepared for this, but I didn't care.

After a long pause, he scoffed. "You think you can just call it quits whenever you want?"

I didn't want to drag this out, so I turned and walked away.

His furious voice echoed behind me. "I'm giving you a way out, and you won't take it? Fine! Whoever begs to get back together first is the loser!"

I walked back into the room where the others were.

One of my classmates teased, "Esther, I'm really jealous of you and Tristan. You two have been together for so long, but you're still so close."

I decided it was time to set things straight. "You're all mistaken. Tristan and I have broken up."

As soon as the words left my mouth, every pair of eyes turned toward me.

"Esther, you're kidding, right?"

"No way. You and Tristan broke up?"

"What happened?"

"Things just weren't right anymore, so we ended it." I kept my explanation formal.

Just as I finished speaking, Tristan walked in. "Yeah, we broke up. I dumped her."

I didn't want to argue with him. I came to this reunion not just to catch up with old classmates but also to make it clear that Tristan and I had broken up. Otherwise, people would keep tying us together.

With that accomplished, I grabbed my bag, apologized to everyone, and made my exit.

"Tristan, did you two just have a fight? Go after her."

"Looks like Esther's really hurt."

"What are you doing? Why are you just standing there?"

"Hey, Esther, wait! Tristan's sorry!"

A few of our classmates tried to push Tristan to come after me, but he was reluctant. After a bit of pressure from Mason, he got up, dragging his feet.

A couple of classmates hurried after us.

"Esther, is there some misunderstanding? You've been together for eight years. Don't be stubborn. Just talk it out."

I stopped walking and turned to them. "There's no misunderstanding. We really broke up. It's been over three months now. We're both doing fine. It's just a breakup. I'm getting married on October 1st. I'll send you an invite."

Just then, the elevator doors opened, and a tall man stepped out. I glanced at him and then turned to my classmates.

"My fiancé's here to pick me up. I'll be going now. You all have a good time."

The classmates who had been trying to play peacemaker were stunned. They stared at the man, mouths agape, not knowing what to say.

"Are these your classmates, Estie?"

The man walked over to me and took my hand.

Just as I was about to introduce him, Tristan's shout rang out behind us. "Esther Wilder! Who is he?"