Chapter 3

Chloe finally walked through the front door the next morning. She was holding a takeout container of clam chowder.

"I stood in a long line just to get this for you," she said, trying to sound sweet. "I know yesterday was my fault, but I had a really good reason. Please don't be mad at me, okay?"

I glanced at the lukewarm, greasy chowder.

There was barely any seafood in it—just some watery broth and a few limp potatoes.

Without saying a word, I drained my glass of warm milk. But no warm liquid could thaw the ice around my heart.

Just minutes before she arrived, Julian had sent me another photo.

It was Chloe standing in his kitchen, smiling as she cooked a fresh, gourmet pot of seafood chowder from scratch.

We had been together for five years, and I never even knew Chloe could cook.

When we first met, she told me she was completely useless in the kitchen because her parents had pampered her. So, for five years, I treated her like a spoiled princess and did all the cooking.

Yet, my princess had gone to cook a gourmet meal for another man.

And her "apology" to me was just Julian’s leftovers.

Seeing my indifferent expression, Chloe’s smile faded. She stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"I didn't mean to stand you up yesterday! My phone died. I texted you as soon as I could!"

Her "text" was literally three words: "Let's wait."

Every call I made after that went straight to voicemail.

What was the point of explaining now?

I slowly stood up, looking at her with cold eyes. "So, your way of 'helping out' was stripping naked to be Julian's model?"

"You were the one who set the date for us to get married. And you were the one who broke the promise. Do you even have a shred of respect for me?"

My words triggered her. She slammed her phone onto the table in frustration.

"I already told you! Marriage is a huge step. Can't I have some time to think it over? I just wanted to postpone signing the papers. It's not like I'm never marrying you!"

She rolled her eyes, sat down aggressively, and knocked over our matching couple mugs.

*Smash!*

I looked at the shattered red and blue ceramic pieces on the floor. Suddenly, I remembered last Valentine's Day. Chloe had stood under a giant screen at the mall, holding a bunch of red roses, and proposed to me.

She said her only birthday wish was for us to get married.

She was the one who made the promise, and she was the one who shattered it.

Maybe our relationship had been too smooth. I had never noticed how distant we had become.

Lately, she was always checking her phone during our dates. She would stare at her screen late at night, giggling like a teenager.

Whenever I asked, she would just shrug and say it was nothing.

And I, like an idiot, kept living in a fantasy world, believing we would naturally get married, buy a house, and grow old together.

Since she didn't care anymore, why should I cling to this pathetic relationship?

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