After eight years of love, I only asked Daniel for one thing: to pick me up in a wedding car on our wedding day.

But the car never came.

I waited, held on, and finally went to the venue myself. There, I saw her—Daniel’s beloved, draped in the wedding dress he had personally chosen for her, tears streaming down her face. And Daniel stood by her side, watching her with that same gentle smile I had once thought was mine.

I glanced down at the missed calls on my phone, each one a reminder of my desperate hope. A bitter smile crept onto my face as I realized, he had forgotten me completely, while I had been waiting all along.

In the past, I would’ve demanded an explanation, but this time, I remained silent. I watched them bask in applause, the picture of perfection.

"Why are you covering your face?" I finally spoke. "Your hands don’t look good, either."

——

Then, I reached into my bag, pulled out the wedding ring, and tossed it at their feet. Daniel’s eyes flashed with a glimmer of guilt, but his first response wasn’t to stop her from wearing my dress—it was to tell me to apologize to her.

"You’re still as unruly as ever. Is it really necessary to be so cruel to your sister just because I didn’t pick you up on time?" Daniel's voice dripped with condescension.

"You’re making a scene. You’ve completely lost your grace. Maybe you shouldn’t get married at all! Just go home and stop being such an eyesore!" Helena shot back, squatting in front of me to slip on her high heels without a hint of concern for my feelings.

The crowd around us instinctively moved to shield Helena, clearly worried I might lash out in jealousy. They believed I was envious of her, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Yes, Helena was my stepsister, but she had never really lived with us. Instead, she chose to cohabitate with Daniel, a scandal that sent shockwaves through our conservative campus. When word got out, everyone assumed I was the one who tipped off the teachers, but in reality, it was Helena who had begged me to help them maintain their façade.

I stumbled over my words as I tried to explain myself to Daniel, but all I received in return was a cold, hate-filled glare. Helena, unable to bear the gossip and whispers surrounding them, chose to break things off and study abroad in the so-called socialite class.

Watching Daniel in such a fragile state tore at my heart. But amidst my concern, I recognized an opportunity. I shamelessly positioned myself by his side, and this arrangement stretched on for eight long years.

Over time, Daniel's demeanor toward me shifted. Initially impatient, he gradually stopped pushing me away. By the end, he would bring me gifts from his business trips, and I convinced myself that this was love. I became the first to back down during our fights and cold wars, willingly accepting whatever crumbs of affection he tossed my way.

What I failed to remember, though, was that Daniel had once hated me.

As I watched the two of them standing so close together, a wave of relief washed over me. In the past, I had clung to this relationship, refusing to let go, but now I feel newfound clarity.

I wiped away my tears, sighed, and turned to leave, finally ready to walk away from the pain. Just then, I heard Daniel call my name, his voice cutting through the air. When I didn’t turn back, he rushed over and grabbed my hand.

“Go back! Apologize to Helena first, or I’ll throw the ring away!” His grip was firm, and I looked down at the ring he held, suddenly realizing how strange this all felt.

In the past, I envied those girls who wore wedding rings and married happily. I had brought it up with Daniel countless times, each time met with his impatience, his dismissive tone making it clear that my dreams were unwelcome.

“We’re not getting married right now, so why do you want a wedding ring?” Daniel scoffed, rolling his eyes at me. “I advise you to read fewer novels and stop fantasizing about being the heroine.”

He gestured dismissively at my washed-out clothes, but deep down, I knew I could be my own heroine. I had given up my career for him, sacrificing my dreams along the way. Now that I was finally on the verge of getting married, Daniel refused to show me the ring, claiming he wanted it to be a surprise.

I was filled with anticipation, but that excitement shattered when I saw Helena’s post on social media. There she was, wearing the ring, her caption complaining that the diamond was too small and not worthy of her wedding. The realization hit me like a slap. Daniel had given me the ring she didn’t want.

Fighting back the pain, I looked at him indifferently. “If you want to throw it away, go ahead. I don’t want the ring.”

“I don’t want second-hand goods like you, either,” he shot back.

At my words, something snapped inside Daniel. In a fit of anger, he hurled the ring away, letting it clatter to the ground in front of me.

As I watched the scene unfold, I couldn't deny the truth. Daniel didn't love me. The realization hit hard, yet the chaos around us distracted everyone as they rushed to soothe him, completely ignoring my presence on the street.

I let out a bitter laugh, crumpling all the veils and tossing them into a nearby trash can before making my way home. My stepmother sat on the sofa, her eyes narrowing at me with a mocking glint.

"I warned you not to go. If Daniel didn’t show up, you would’ve seen just how unwanted you really are. But you had to go and make a scene, didn’t you?"

I couldn’t help but smirk at her words. It was clear why she had been so adamant about stopping me. It was all about ensuring her daughter had the perfect wedding.

I shot her a contemptuous glance. "You probably knew that Helena was out partying at sixteen, didn’t you?"

Her expression soured, the corners of her mouth tightening in rage. She fumed silently, jumping up and down with frustration, but couldn’t find the words to retort. In a fit of anger, she slammed the door behind her, leaving me feeling oddly liberated.

Daniel didn’t call me for three days. By the time he finally walked in, I was lounging on the couch, absorbed in my phone.

He entered with heavy silence, guilt written all over his face, and without a word, made his way to the kitchen.

As I glanced up, my eyes fell on the table laden with seafood—an extravagant spread he must have prepared in an attempt to make amends.

In the past, whenever I was upset, Daniel would cook a meal to apologize, but he always seemed to forget that I was allergic to seafood. When I reminded him, he scratched his head, offering a sheepish smile. “I forgot! I’ll remember next time,” he said.

I couldn’t help but smile bitterly. How could he forget? Didn’t he know how much Helena loved seafood?

I realized then that my love for Daniel had come to an end.

For the first time, he sat down at the table and carefully peeled shrimp, filling my bowl with food. “I’m sorry about the ring. I’ll buy you a bigger one when I get back,” he promised. “You know Helena is my first love, but you’re the one who’s been with me the longest. You should be the one I marry.”

I turned my head away, suddenly feeling the weight of his words. They were so beautiful, yet reality felt entirely different.

How many times had I heard him whisper Helena's name at night? Each time, Daniel would dismiss my concerns, insisting I must have misheard it as Helena. Back then, I didn’t take it seriously; I thought time would prove everything.

But after eight long years, I could no longer deceive myself—Daniel only loved Helena. Perhaps it was the first time in ages that he’d seen me cry, but he simply sighed and repeated, “I still say the same thing. As long as you apologize to Helena, I’ll never speak of you unruly again.”

It dawned on me that my sincerity was met with nothing but his unreasonable demands. I couldn’t understand why he would embrace me, whispering promises of forever, if he didn’t love me. If he truly didn’t care, wouldn’t it be better to just break up openly? Instead, he twisted the knife deeper into my heart, leaving me drained and in pain.

When he noticed I hadn’t touched the seafood, a flicker of panic crossed his face. “I forgot you were allergic,” he said, hastily removing the dishes. His apology was there, but it felt hollow. “I won’t forget next time.” It was always “next time,” but I knew there would be no next time.

“It’s impossible to apologize,” I replied softly. “There’s no future for us.” No matter how much he pleaded, I remained unyielding. In a fit of frustration, he swept all the food off the table and stormed out, leaving the door wide open behind him.

A moment later, I saw him in Helena’s social media posts, and the ache in my heart intensified. “It’s still the same as when we first fell in love,” he had written. “Whenever you’re unhappy, you just crawl into my arms.”

I picked at some leftovers before retreating to the second bedroom. Once inside, I pulled out my phone, hesitating for what felt like an eternity before finally clicking the button to call my best friend.

"Nicole, I... I want to give up on him."

As soon as I heard her voice, the weight of my emotions crashed over me, and I could no longer hold back the tears. All the hurt and grievance I had been suppressing spilled out uncontrollably.

When everyone else suspected that I had been the one to expose Daniel and Helena’s relationship, only Nicole stood by me, ready to defend me against their accusations. “I told you Daniel was a man you couldn’t trust, but you wouldn’t listen,” she had said, her voice filled with concern.

“Forget it,” she continued, “I’ll book a flight for you tomorrow. Come stay with me and just relax for a while.”

I cried until my tears ran dry, then quickly packed my things. I couldn’t bear the thought of being in the same room with them; the mere idea made me feel physically ill.

But just when I longed for some peace, Daniel’s calls pierced through the quiet of the night. When I finally picked up, his exasperated voice rushed in.

"Why didn’t you answer? Forget it. What brand of ointment is the most effective? Helena got bitten by a mosquito, and now she’s itching like crazy. Hurry up and send the ointment from home!"

I glanced at the clock—it was three in the morning. Helena was calling me for mosquito bite ointment. It was almost laughable how absurd the situation was.

When I was bitten, Daniel would merely cross his fingers and say a little prayer for me, never bothering to offer ointment or even a moment of genuine concern. I had always thought that was normal, but hearing his anxious tone for Helena made the disparity clear. It hit me like a ton of bricks: there was a world of difference between love and indifference.

Daniel continued to urge me, but I simply replied, "Okay," and was about to hang up when he added, "Hurry up, I'll wait for you at the door." I cut him off mid-sentence.

Afterward, I glanced at the countless missed calls from him and decisively turned off my phone. I was done being disturbed at odd hours for something as trivial as a mosquito bite.

I was jolted awake by a knock at the door just after dawn. When I opened it, Daniel stood, stubble on his face and a look of determination in his eyes.

"I asked you to deliver the ointment. Why are you at the hotel?" I asked, keeping my tone cold and my expression guarded. I didn't want to engage with him—after all, nothing I said ever seemed to come out right.

"Gianna, stop making a fuss. I won't press you about this any longer," he said, his voice softer. "But don’t forget, we still have a wedding to attend tonight."

I crossed my arms, holding my ground. "You can handle the wedding dress, the photos, everything else. It’s your show."

At this point, he still thought I was just making a fuss.

I nodded slightly, signaling that I understood.

Daniel seemed taken aback by my lack of tears; he opened his mouth to say something but then fell silent.

"Let’s go, then... Let’s start with the wedding dress," I said, keeping my voice steady.

He instinctively opened the front passenger door and waited for me to get in, as he always did. But for me, the front seat no longer felt like my place. Instead, I climbed into the back seat, creating a clear boundary between us.

Daniel stared at me for several seconds, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Why don’t you sit in the front?” he finally asked, his tone questioning.

I ignored his question, my thoughts consumed by visions of wedding dresses. The last time I had chosen a style, it was to please Daniel, never considering what I truly wanted. This time, I was determined to be my own bride.

However, instead of heading to the wedding dress shop, Daniel turned the car around to go home and pick up Helena first. When she hopped in, she smiled and casually opened the passenger door, pouting her lips as if she were about to kiss him. She quickly settled into the co-pilot seat, and Daniel instinctively wrapped his arms around her.

After a moment, she seemed to remember my presence and pushed Helena away awkwardly. “Gianna is here too? Why didn’t you say anything? There’s no teacher here to complain to you.”

I continued to listen to Daniel’s weak attempts at justification. “Gianna, don’t think too much; it was Helena who said she wanted to pick a wedding dress for herself.”

Bored and disinterested, I turned my gaze out the window, tuning them out completely.

In the bridal shop, Daniel eagerly selected the most beautiful and expensive wedding dresses for Helena, while I was left with a torn, yellowed second-hand dress. Eight years of love paled in comparison to the allure of his first love. Frustrated, I tossed the shabby dresses to the ground and set off to find a wedding gown that truly represented me.

As I stepped out of the dressing room, Daniel’s gaze was fixed on Helena, completely ignoring me as I admired myself in the mirror. Suddenly, Helena insisted on taking a group photo. But the moment the shutter clicked, she elbowed me out of the frame. The wedding photo that should have featured me was now a snapshot of her smiling face.

“Miss, your husband seems…” the photographer began, but I waved my hand dismissively. Daniel was no longer important to me.

I wore my wedding dress alone, capturing the most beautiful photo of myself—unaccompanied by the man who should have been at my side. Meanwhile, Daniel had already left to dine with Helena, oblivious to my absence. His image had already appeared in her circle of friends, leaving me feeling more invisible than ever.

"I bit my tongue while eating, but luckily Daniel blew on it, and it healed quickly!" I smiled, giving her a thumbs up.

When I got home, I finally checked my luggage. Just as I was about to close it, I found a letter written by Daniel. My heart sank as I read the words: "Please investigate this matter thoroughly and never let Gianna go." Each stroke of his pen seemed to accuse me, insisting that I was the one at fault.

I looked up at the house, feeling a heartache that left me numb. It was clear now. Daniel had always loved Helena, and I had merely filled the void when he was lonely. I couldn't help but laugh bitterly at my own foolishness.

The truth had been there all along, especially since I discovered that Daniel had reserved a room to post photos of Helena. I should have understood then that this love was never truly mine. He claimed those photos were given to him by friends, and I forced myself to believe it, choosing to ignore the nagging suspicion that he was still infatuated with her.

Now, seeing the reality laid bare before me, I had nothing left to say. I placed the wedding dress and photos I had bought that day back in the house and headed for the airport alone.

“Everyone is waiting for you to appear. Where are you?”

I glanced at Daniel's endless messages on my phone and made my choice. I turned off the device, resolute in my decision to break free.

"Let's break up."