A week before the wedding, I stumbled upon an anniversary app on Cayson’s tablet. Many entries had faded with time:

[First kiss was 631 days ago.]

[First intimate night was 397 days ago.]

[You broke your promise 183 days ago.]

I froze, feeling as though I'd been plunged into an icy abyss. These dates didn’t match mine. Scrolling further, I found a few upcoming reminders:

[Your birthday is in 2 days.]

[Giving up on you in 7 days.]

In two days, it would be Ariah's birthday, my best friend. And in seven, I was supposed to marry Cayson. My hands went numb, and the tablet crashed to the floor, shattering.

“What happened, babe?” Cayson called from the kitchen, oblivious to the turmoil within me. Unable to respond, I felt my world tremble as I deleted the wedding invitations that were supposed to go out. Then, I accepted the company’s offer for a position abroad in Northern Europe.

==============================

A tight grip squeezed my heart. I could hardly breathe. Cayson, hearing no reply, wandered into the study.

“Why are you giving me the cold shoulder, baby?” He glanced at the shattered tablet on the floor, and realization dawned in his eyes. He gathered me in his arms, trying to console me. “Careless, aren’t you? Go relax in the living room; I’ll tidy up here.”

Cayson guided me out of the study, taking charge of the mess. I had to admit, he had seemed to change recently. From an impulsive, self-centered trust-fund kid to a thoughtful and gentle fiancé.

Everyone said it was the upcoming wedding that had matured him. Until today, I had wholeheartedly believed them, deeply moved.

“Come on, babe! Check out the pulled pork I made. It’s your favorite, slow-cooked to perfection.” Cayson appeared from the kitchen, holding a plate. Wearing just an apron over his broad, sturdy frame, he looked almost charmingly larger-than-life.

“What are you gawking at, love? Don’t let your mind drift. Dig in; you’ll need your energy for more fun later.” He tapped my forehead with a playful grin, recalling last night when we had gotten carried away on the kitchen island.

A wave of nausea hit me suddenly.

Six hundred and thirty-one days ago marked three years of our rocky relationship during its most turbulent phase. Three hundred and ninety-seven days ago, I was drowning in heartbreak from our breakup, feeling at my lowest. While I cried myself to sleep over him, was he using this same teasing tone with my best friend?

Still dazed, Cayson had already served my meal.

“Why aren’t you eating, sweetie?” He placed a hand on my shoulder, and I flinched as if shocked.

Cayson frowned slightly, “What’s wrong, Trinity? Doesn't it taste good? You used to love this.”

True, the first time he cooked for me, I was taken aback and showered his dishes with praise, feeling cherished. But deception doesn’t hold up under scrutiny. Back then, he prepared a spread of pork, chicken, and beef, most of which he and Ariah devoured while I barely touched the bland vegetables.

“You’re mistaken. I love slow-cooked dishes, but not pulled pork.” It was Ariah who loved pulled pork.

Cayson hesitated, looking a bit sheepish. “I’ll whip up something else then.”

“No need. I have work matters to attend to; you enjoy it.” I muttered an excuse and bolted before the tears could fall. I wandered aimlessly through the bustling streets as tears finally came tumbling down.

Then my phone rang—it was Diego Taylor, the newly appointed vice president at the company. Hurriedly, I wiped my tears, trying to sound composed. “Hello?”

“Why the sudden change of heart? You initially declined the international assignment.”

“I…” Fresh tears threatened to spill again, and I choked back a sob.

Diego, unaware of the storm inside me, didn’t press further. “Just send me the application for my signature when you’re ready.”

“Okay, thank you, Mr. Taylor.”

In truth, the application had been ready for a while. If it weren't for the upcoming wedding and Cayson's pleas, I wouldn't have set aside my career goals.

I pulled the document from my drafts folder, printed it out, and headed straight to the office. At a little past eight, predictably, Diego was still there, burning the midnight oil. Through the glass of his office, I saw him bent over his desk, absorbed in his work.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"How did you get here... so quickly?" Diego's eyes widened in surprise, and he quipped, "Is this the kind of efficiency we can expect from a CFO? No wonder everyone recommends you for leading the European project."

I offered a noncommittal smile and handed him the application. Diego complimented my abilities but twirled a pen between his fingers, taking his sweet time before signing.

Feeling a bit impatient, I asked, "Is there a problem with the document, Mr. Taylor?"

Diego raised an eyebrow. "The document's fine, but you turned down the offer so decisively before, and now you're rushing in for a signature. How can I be sure you won't change your mind again?"

"Once the overseas project starts, I won't let you back out. Are you really sure about this?"

His intense gaze was almost overwhelming. Just as I was about to respond, my phone rang. A call from [Husband] appeared. I declined the call, but a WhatsApp message quickly followed: [Are you at the office? When will you be done? I'll pick you up.]

My annoyance deepened.

"I'm sure, Mr. Taylor. Please sign."

"But it feels like you're acting out of spite."

Diego's gaze shifted from my phone screen to me. "I'll sign, but I don't want any personnel issues on the new project. I'll give you three days to think it over. If you're still sure after that, come back to see me."

How could I tell him that I was already as certain as one could be? After a moment of frustration, I reassured myself. I might as well use these three days to sever ties with the past and prepare for what's ahead.

Taking back the application Diego had returned, I stood up to leave, but he stopped me. "You came all this way for a signature. Have you eaten yet?"

I paused, "Not yet."

"Then let's grab a bite together."

"Maybe another time, Mr. Taylor. I have other matters to deal with."

Having just suffered the betrayal of both a lover and a friend, I really wasn't in the mood to dine, especially not with a young, unfamiliar boss. There were too many rumors about Diego, and I didn't want to be caught up in gossip about climbing the corporate ladder through relationships with men.

I forced a smile and reached for the door. But I froze instantly.

"Trinity? What are you doing here?"

The moment our eyes met, Ariah and I were both caught off guard. Since agreeing to Cayson's proposal six months ago, our interactions had dwindled. Once a close friend, now she felt like a stranger.

I sensed a subtle wariness and hostility in her furrowed brows and eyes. Something I never noticed when we were all together with Cayson before.

I glanced downwards; Ariah was holding an elegant thermos lunch box.

It appeared she was here to bring Diego lunch—something homemade, no less.