Errol's POV

Sacha was eyeing me, seemingly waiting for me to say something first. But when all she got was a sideways glance at the PS5, she couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Errol, I bought you a PS5!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with forced enthusiasm. "Didn’t you want to play that Fortnite game? Now you can stay home and rest your leg for the next few days. I don’t want you limping around at our engagement party, or my friends will laugh at us."

Little did she know, I saw Craig’s Instagram post earlier. He was smiling with a PS5 in front of him, and in the reflection of the mirror behind him, half of Sacha’s body was visible. The apology gift was real, but it was clearly something she bought on the side.

“Thanks,” I said flatly. “But I already bought my own console. It’ll be delivered tomorrow. And honestly, you didn’t do anything wrong, so there’s no need to apologize.”

Her face stiffened. "Who told you to buy it yourself?" she snapped.

I raised an eyebrow. “Do I need permission to buy something for myself?”

Since the day we’d started dating, it felt like every small decision I made needed to be cleared with her. It was as if I lost the right to pursue even the smallest pleasures. Buying a console—something as trivial as that—had somehow become an act of defiance. But when she wanted something, I wasn’t even allowed to question it. If I showed the slightest hesitation, it turned into a full-blown argument about how useless I was, how I couldn’t even meet the simplest expectations.

“What exactly do you want from me, Errol?” Sacha finally exploded, her patience snapping like a brittle wire. “Yes, I shouldn’t have left you at the hospital this morning. But I’ve already apologized with a gift! What more do you want?!”

I met her gaze, unblinking. “You haven’t done anything wrong. And I don’t expect anything from you.”

Her eyes flared with anger. “You… you don’t want to get engaged, do you?”

I shrugged, feeling a strange weight lift off my shoulders. “I don’t really care.”

Her lips parted, shock and fury mixing on her face. “Fine! Let’s cancel the engagement!” she shouted, storming out and slamming the door so hard the walls shook.

In the past, I would’ve been out the door in seconds, running after her, pleading for her to come back. But this time, I stayed planted on the couch. The TV continued playing a mediocre comedy, and despite everything, I found myself laughing.

A couple of hours later, my buddy Alfie Steele called. On the other end, he sounded shocked. “Bro, did you and your fiancée have a fight?”

“No, we didn’t,” I replied casually.

“Then why did she come to me saying you’re calling off the engagement? What the hell is going on?” he asked.

Everyone knew I’d been the doting, henpecked fiancé for as long as they could remember. I always let Sacha call the shots, so they had to sneak me out just for us to hang out together. Because of that, Sacha never liked my friends, calling them bad influences and forbidding me from seeing them. So, the fact that she went to Alfie spoke volumes.

“It’s nothing. I’m just tired, man,” I admitted.

“Tired? Dude, this isn’t like you. If something is going on between you two, why not just talk it out?” Alfie suggested. “You’ve always said you’d only marry her. You’re so close to getting engaged—why stop now?”

“Maybe it’s because I’m so close that I’m finally seeing things clearly,” I sighed.

“What do you mean?” Alfie asked, puzzled.

“I just realized that if I marry her, I’ll be living this same kind of life every single day in the future. And I don't want that,” I said, taking a deep breath.

“Bro, everyone’s life is a mess at some point. Just make sure you’re thinking clearly,” Alfie advised.

Sacha always thought my friends were no good, that they were just as useless as me. But when we had problems, these friends of mine—whom she despised—stood up for her. Meanwhile, her friends she thought highly of would only add fuel to a fire whenever we argued. I had to not only placate her but also cater to them.

Sacha didn’t come home for the next two days, leaving only four days until our engagement.

Then, around 8 p.m. on the third day, my phone buzzed with a video call from her. I answered the call, only to see her and Craig, heads pressed together. She was grinning, cheeks flushed as she fed him wine by biting the rim of the glass.

“Oops! Sorry, Sacha! I was trying to record a video of you but accidentally called Errol instead,” came a panicked voice from the other side.

As soon as the person on the other end of the line finished apologizing, the wine glass slipped from Sacha’s mouth and crashed to the floor.

Errol's POV

Sacha’s face filled the screen, panic clear in her voice as she hurried to explain, "Errol, don't get it wrong! I just lost a bet, that’s all. There’s nothing going on between Craig and me."

Before I could respond, Craig leaned into the camera with his usual innocent facade. "Come on, man, we were just messing around. Sacha and I are best friends, nothing more. If anything was going to happen between us, it would've happened a long time ago. You’re not that insecure, right?"

"Don't worry, I didn’t misunderstand," I replied calmly, a strange serenity washing over me. "Have fun." With that, I ended the call.

Barely thirty minutes later, Sacha barged through the door, followed by her usual entourage—Craig included. She never brought her friends over, but tonight was different. Tonight, they had come to put on a show.

A petite, doll-faced girl named Mabel Byrd stepped forward first. Her voice was sugary, but her eyes darted nervously. “Errol, I’m so sorry. It was my fault. I was the one who suggested the bet. The loser had to feed the winner a drink, and it wasn’t just Sacha. We all fed Craig, you know, just for fun.”

I smiled politely and replied, “No need to explain. Everyone drinks to have a good time.”

Mabel blinked, visibly taken aback. She had expected me to get angry, to call out their lies, as I had done in the past. But my indifference seemed to unsettle her more than any confrontation would have. Quickly recovering, she plastered a smile back on her face. “I knew you weren’t a petty guy, Errol. Haha, you two are couple goals, seriously. Sacha is always bragging about how lucky she is to have you—barely lets you out of her sight because she’s afraid we’ll snatch you away.”

“Yeah, Sacha is so annoying,” another friend added. “We’re all her close friends, yet she guards you like treasure.”

“How’s the engagement party coming along?” asked another. “When you two get married, I have to be one of your bridesmaids!”

Sacha’s friends surrounded us, deliberately shifting the conversation to the engagement. Just as I was about to respond, Craig sauntered over, beaming. “I told you Errol wouldn’t be upset,” he laughed. "You guys really didn’t need to rush over here and make it look like he’s some sort of jealous boyfriend."

On the side, I noticed Sacha shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting to Craig as he moved closer. She hesitated, taking half a step forward, like she was trying to stop him—but then she faltered, as if unsure of what to do.

Craig, however, was unfazed. He smiled wider and patted me on the back as he said, “Errol, don’t worry. As long as I’m around, no one will ever hurt Sacha. I’ll always protect her.”

Bothered by his hand on my shoulder, I glanced at it, only to see a ring on his finger. The one Sacha and I had custom-ordered a month ago for our engagement. Only one ring like that existed as it was custom-made. Yet here it was, resting on Craig’s hand like some cheap accessory.

“Nice ring,” I remarked.

Suddenly, the noisy living room fell deathly silent, and Sacha’s face drained of color.