That morning, she was still whining about me going to business dinners and smelling like whiskey when I got home. A few hours later, she strolled in here flaunting herself.

I swallowed the heat rising in my chest, forced a smile. "You've got the wrong person. My girlfriend went back home. Excuse me, I need the restroom."

God, I wished it wasn't her. But from outside that private room, I heard everything.

"Daphne, aren't you scared Ethan's gonna find out and flip?"

"Tch, who cares?" Her voice was full-on mockery. "Even if he does, what's he gonna do? Yell at me? Please. Can you chill? What's wrong with wanting a little freedom?"

"But you've been together, like, ten years. You're not worried that might crash and burn?"

She snorted. "He's not going anywhere. A guy that boring—who'd even want him? He was talking marriage, and I shut that down fast."

"So you're just gonna keep stringing him along?"

She took a slow sip, laughed. "Marriage? Please. I'm still young. Spending forever with him? Total waste."

"I think you're pushing it."

Daphne didn't flinch. She leaned into that guy and whispered in his ear, "Ryan, you didn't hear a thing, got it? Let's actually have some fun tonight."

Watching from the doorway, my head spun. My chest felt like it was getting crushed. The bitterness? It nearly choked me.

From high school to college to chasing our careers—I stuck with Daphne through it all.

Now that my life was finally steady, I was ready to give her a real home. But every time, she dodged the idea of marriage.

I thought she just needed time. I didn't get that she saw me as dead weight, something that'd kill her fun.

I shoved the emotion down, kicked open the private room door, and met her wide-eyed panic head-on.

"Daphne Jent, congrats. We're done."

As I walked off, the chaos behind me kept going.

"Daphne, you messed up! Go talk to Ethan, now!"

Through gritted teeth, she snapped, "He's bluffing! Like he could ever leave me. He'll come crawling back, just watch!"

That night, I packed my stuff and walked out. No calls. No texts.

She didn't reach out either. Her friends tried when she was drunk. I let it go to voicemail.

This reunion? First time we'd seen each other in six months.

Everyone looked stunned, so I said it again.

"Daphne and I broke up. Six months ago. I don't want my fiancée getting the wrong idea, so let's quit dragging up the past."

Daphne's eyes flew wide. "You've got to be kidding me."

"You know I'm not."

She stared, chest rising, then forced it out. "Ethan Everett, that's enough."

Typical Daphne—always thinking I was bluffing, just trying to piss her off.

I didn't bother responding. I was about to make an excuse to dip when my phone started buzzing.

I saw the caller ID and couldn't help smiling.

"Hey, Alana. You off work?

"Yeah. I'm still at the class reunion.

"No need to swing by. I'll wrap up soon. Talk later."

I'd barely hung up when someone yanked the phone out of my hand.

Daphne glared at the screen, fuming. "Who is she? Where'd you dig up this actress?"

She tried to redial.

I snatched it back. "My life's got nothing to do with you."

Her eyes instantly welled up. She bit her lip, nodding like crazy. "Fine. Great. Just remember what you said. I'm breaking up with you! Don't come crawling back in a few days!"

Then, like it was some kind of revenge move, she whipped out her phone, ignoring everyone, and cranked her voice up to sugary-sweet.

"Hey, Ryan. Remember asking me out? I'm down. When we meeting?"

I frowned, gave our class rep, Andy, a quiet goodbye, and walked out.

He trailed after me. "Ethan, what was that? Why were you two going at it?"

I stopped. Figured he deserved the truth. "We weren't fighting. We broke up. That invite's real—you're welcome at the wedding."

His eyes widened. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah."

As we stepped outside, a car honked. The window slid down, and Alana smiled at me, warm and steady.

I jogged over. "You didn't have to come."

"It wasn't far. Figured you might've had a drink or two—didn't want you driving."

Classmates started spilling out, jaws dropping when they saw us. One guy smacked his forehead.

"Wait—Alana Anderson! Wasn't she the campus belle freshman year? Left for overseas after a bit."

That lit a spark. More people started recognizing her.

I blinked, thrown. Alana and I were classmates? How did I not remember that?

She dropped her gaze for a second, then stepped out, greeting everyone with that calm, graceful charm.

I made the intro. "This is my fiancée, Alana. Sounds like most of you already know her?"

"Yeah, of course! Can't believe you two are together. It's been years, but once you've seen Alana, you don't forget. Total knockout."

I laughed. "Alright, we're heading out. Catch up at the wedding?"

We'd barely gotten in the car when Daphne came storming over, face twisted with rage.

Alana glanced at me. "Want to talk to her?"

"No. Let's go."

Daphne's figure shrank in the rearview. At one point, she even chucked her purse at the car.

Alana stayed unbothered, calm as ever.

Me? I was still processing. "So... we were classmates?"

"Yeah. We even talked once."

She let out a quiet laugh. "But I was too plain. You didn't remember me."

"Don't say that, I—"

They said she was the campus belle. How could she have been plain?

Back then, I was buried in part-time jobs or tangled up with Daphne. I didn't really have a college life, let alone time to notice everyone else.

Even after everything, Daphne and I were always headed for a bad ending.

Alana must've read my mind—she gave my hand a gentle pat. "I'm just teasing. At least we've still got time."

Funny thing? I had my boss, Mr. Cortez, to thank for Alana.

Right after the breakup, I was a wreck. Tried to keep it outta work, but honestly, I was running on fumes.

Mr. Cortez caught wind of it and was like, "You need a reset," then pushed to set me up. The guy's part mentor, part big bro—I couldn't say no.

Turned out, that someone was Alana. She was leading a project we were already teaming up on.

We didn't talk much at first, but her vibe? Chill. Solid. Like, just being near her made things feel less chaotic.

She later said I left a good impression too. So we rolled with it—grabbed dinner here and there.

With time, and more late nights at work, I saw it—she wasn't cold, just quiet. Soft, steady. Real.

Everything changed at this one social event. I overdid it on the drinks, my stomach flipped, and boom—gastritis hit hard.

Alana, slim as she was, somehow managed to drag me home. Made me honey lemon tea, handed me my meds like it was no big deal.

My throat tightened as I watched her move around the kitchen.

Stomach flares weren't new. Once, I had a raging fever. Daphne was out clubbing. I called nonstop. She finally picked up—once.

Told her I was sick. She snapped:

"Ethan, seriously? Blowing up my phone for this? You think me coming home's gonna magically fix you? Stop being so dramatic."

All I'd wanted was her voice. Just something to feel like I wasn't alone, busting my ass for us.

Alana turned, tea in hand, caught me staring.

She blinked, then smirked. "What? Starting to think I'm not so bad to have around?"

"Yeah. It's really nice."

Warmth hit my chest like a slow burn.

"Alana... would you ever consider being with me?"

Her face lit up red. She spun back, stirring the tea.

It took her a while, but then she whispered, "Okay."

We both wanted something solid. No rush for kids, just a quiet life together.

Everything clicked fast—we met each other's parents, picked a date, locked it in.

Wedding planning was chaos, but since we worked side by side, it flowed.

Today, we were checking out our future place. I wrapped up work early and swung by Alana's office.

She was lost in paperwork, sunlight hitting her face just right—nose, cheekbones glowing like some soft-focus filter. She looked peaceful. Gorgeous.

She glanced up and gave me that look. "Still drowning in this mess. Wait in the car, or we're gonna hit traffic."

She really thought of everything.

I pulled the car out and waited. That's when I spotted Daphne heading straight for me.

First thing outta her mouth? An accusation.

"Why haven't you been answering my calls?"