Preston said he would propose on our fourth anniversary. But this is our eighth year together. He claims to love me, yet he’s relentlessly pursuing a younger intern from his office. To please her, he even outbid everyone at a charity auction just to snatch away my mother’s only heirloom. "Misty has never seen anything nice; she’s obsessed with this. Just let her have it this once. I’ll make it up to you later." "Fine." This time, I didn't cry. I didn't scream. Instead, I dialed a number I hadn't called in years. "Elias, what you said last time... does it still stand?" He was silent for a second, then repeated it clearly: "Dump Preston. Marry me." "Okay. I’ll do it." 1 Elias was clearly stunned. We sat in silence for two full minutes. "Are you serious?" he finally asked, his voice low. "Yes." He let out a deep, dark chuckle. "I’ll be waiting." "Who were you talking to?" Preston suddenly wrapped his arms around me from behind, startling me. I quickly locked my phone and shook my head. "Still upset? Look, you know Misty doesn't have the privileges you grew up with. You can afford to be generous." "Right." Preston’s phone wouldn't stop vibrating. He looked down to reply, a soft, genuine smile playing on his lips. It was a message from Misty. The photo was impossible to miss. My mother’s necklace was draped around her neck, resting right against her deep cleavage. The photo was a suggestive close-up, showing the lace of her lingerie. "Preston." He was sitting on the edge of the bed, mesmerized by the screen. He even let out a small, enamored laugh, completely ignoring me. "Preston!" I raised my voice, and he snapped his head up. "What? What is it?" "When are you actually going to propose?" Preston tucked his phone away, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Aren't we... still young? There's no rush." "Youth is for having fun. Since you were so 'generous' today, the guys threw a party to celebrate my 'gracious' wife. Want to come?" His eyes told me everything. He was desperately hoping I’d say no. "I—" He cut me off, hugging me tightly. "Actually, I’ll tell them you’re tired. You hate the smell of smoke and booze anyway. Just wait for me at home, okay?" I looked down, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. Preston took it as a happy "yes." Having achieved his goal, he didn't waste another word. He grabbed his phone and headed for the door. As he left, I saw him zooming in on that photo of Misty. I took my robe and caught my reflection in the mirror. Average body. Average face. Misty and I were clearly from two different worlds, two different stages of life. At midnight, one of Preston’s friends, Jax, posted an update. It was a video. The music was deafening, the VIP lounge dripping with excess. Young socialites were cheering on the dance floor. Then, the music paused for a second. I heard a familiar voice. "Jax, I think I’m going to propose to Misty." It was Preston. I set my phone down, stared at the ceiling, and took a deep breath. Our relationship survived the seven-year itch, but it couldn't survive one cold winter. 2 I was about to sleep when I got a text from Jax. A simple line: Hey, can you bring some stomach meds over? Preston’s dying here. Preston doesn't have stomach issues. Neither does Jax. Based on what I’d heard in the video, it wasn't hard to guess what was really happening. I didn't know if Jax sent that because Preston asked him to, or if it was a trap. When I arrived at the club, I leaned against my car for a long time. My legs were numb by the time I finally found the courage to walk inside. I definitely picked the wrong moment to enter. Preston was down on one knee. "Misty, I truly love you." "Misty, will you marry me?" "Misty, I want you to be mine forever." The love in his eyes was overflowing. Misty stood across from him, hands over her mouth in shock. She was beautiful—the exact kind of "innocent but sexy" girl that was Preston’s ultimate weakness. "Preston... yes! Yes, I will!" Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face. The ring wasn't the centerpiece. It was my mother’s heirloom necklace they were using as a "promise gift." Preston, you really are a piece of work. The two of them kissed under the spotlight. A perfect couple. A beautiful scene. Except, out of the dozen people in the room—some drinking, some smoking, some on their phones—not a single person clapped. Preston noticed. His expression soured. "What’s wrong with you guys? Cheer!" His friends all looked down, suddenly very busy with their drinks. Preston scanned the room, his eyes turning cold. "You're proposing to her? What about Claire?" Jax asked, breaking the silence. Preston licked his lips and patted Jax on the shoulder with a smirk. "Jax, do you even know what it feels like to have your heart skip a beat?" "Claire has been with you for eight years, man." "Shh..." Preston hushed him. "Don't ruin the mood. For the last eight years, I was blind. I thought that was love. But after meeting Misty, I finally know what real passion is. I’d give her the world! But Claire?" He looked around, trying to justify himself to the group. "Claire is high-born, wealthy. She doesn't need 'saving.' But Misty? Misty only has me. Do you get it?" "Every time I go home and see Claire’s face, I just feel... bored." "Sure, Claire is 'good.' But she’s not the one I want to marry." Silence. No one backed him up. "Preston... maybe we should just... forget the cheers... it's okay," Misty whispered. Crash! Preston smashed a glass on the floor. "I said, cheer!" Normally, when Preston lost his temper, everyone backed off. But this time, no one moved. I felt a strange sense of irony. Eight years ago, none of them liked us together. They hated me, the "spoiled rich girl," and told Preston to dump me. Eight years later, they all saw me as family. Everyone except Preston. Clap. Clap. Clap. I clapped three times, slowly. All eyes snapped to me. Preston’s pupils shrank; panic flickered across his face. "You... what are you doing here?" Then, his face hardened. "Who told her to come?" I walked up to him. Misty immediately stepped in front of Preston, arms spread as if to "protect" him. She looked terrified, yet "brave." Every man's hero fantasy. "Claire, I'm so sorry, it’s all my fault... please don't blame him..." I reached out and snatched the necklace from around her neck. "Preston, didn't anyone ever tell you? Proposing with a dead woman’s jewelry never ends well." 3 "Don't scare Misty. We’ll talk about this at home," Preston said, reaching for his jacket, desperate to escape. "Preston, do I even have a home anymore?" His hand froze. He turned back, grabbing my arm to pull me out. Misty tried to follow, but Jax blocked her. The hallway lights were dim. I couldn't even see Preston's face clearly anymore. "Misty is young. Her only birthday wish was for a proposal. I had too much to drink, Claire. I wasn't thinking." When I didn't reply, he pulled me into a hug. This was his routine—whenever I was mad, he’d use sweet words and physical affection to make it go away. And every time, I had forgiven him. He breathed against my ear. "Babe, don't be mad." He didn't realize that this time, there was no coming back. "Fine. Come home with me right now." "Okay! Let’s go home!" He started pulling me toward the exit. Misty was standing right by the door. I knew she could hear us. Three, two... Thud! The door flew open. Misty "collapsed" in the hallway. Preston was by her side in a heartbeat. "Misty!" "Preston, I'm okay... is Claire still mad?" Misty grabbed a large bottle of 116-proof bourbon from a passing tray. "I’ll make it up to her." She tilted her head back and began chugging the harsh liquor. She was willing to pay a high price to win back Preston’s attention. "Misty, stop!" Preston wrenched the bottle away, looking devastated. "Does she forgive me now?" Misty whimpered. Preston whirled around and screamed at me. "Say something!" The man who was just whispering "babe" in my ear was gone. The mask had slipped. "I never blamed you," I said calmly. Misty coughed, reaching a hand out toward me. "If you're not mad, can I have the necklace back? It was a gift from Preston." I clutched my bag. "This is my mother’s heirloom." "But it’s a gift from him..." Misty’s lip trembled. "I guess you still hate me." She grabbed the bottle again. Preston went ballistic. "Claire, give it to her!" He lunged for my bag. "This belonged to my mother! Can't you see she’s doing this on purpose?" Preston wouldn't listen. He fought me for the bag like a rabid dog. "Can't you stop being so cynical? Misty isn't like you!" "She’s just a girl, Claire! Stop bullying her!" He was too strong. I lost the tug-of-war. He ripped the bag away, and as Misty reached for it too, the necklace snagged. The string snapped. Silver beads scattered everywhere, bouncing off the floor like rain. I stared at the two beads left in my hand. Misty looked up at me, a tiny, triumphant smirk on her lips that only I could see. "Claire, have you had enough?!" Preston roared. He blamed me for everything. He saw through the world, but he couldn't see through her. Maybe he realized he’d gone too far. He looked at the beads on the floor and reached out to touch my hair. "I... I'm sorry. I drank too much." "Tomorrow. I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow, okay?" Misty started retching from the alcohol. Preston scooped her up and ran for the exit. "Tomorrow at noon! I’ll take you shopping! I promise!" He ran so fast the wind brushed past my face. I leaned against the wall and laughed. What was the difference between me and those silver beads? A seemingly "whole" life, scattered into the dust in a single night. I didn't want the necklace anymore. And I didn't want Preston. I couldn't promise to forget him instantly, but I could promise he’d never find me again. "Hello? Is this the airline? I need the next available flight to Charleston." 4 The flight was in three days. I went back and packed. I took everything that was mine. Everything I couldn't take, I burned. Our photo albums were in the nightstand, but there was one on Preston’s desk. He hadn't been home in a while, so the desk was dusty, but the album was pristine. He must have been looking at it often. I picked it up to throw it in the fire, but photos fell out. They weren't of us. They were of him and Misty. I remembered when Misty first visited. She said our wedding-style photos were "so pretty." I guess they went and took their own set. I closed the album and put it back. The clock struck 5:00 PM. Preston had missed our "noon" date. Ping. A voice note from Elias Vane. "I sent the marriage contract to your place via courier. Just sign it." I replied with an emoji. I turned around, and Preston was standing there. "Who are you talking to? You look so happy." I shook my head and tried to walk past him. "Move." He held out a hand. In it was a perfectly restored necklace. My mother’s necklace. "You... you found them?" He scratched his head. "Spent hours looking. Nearly went blind." "So you didn't show up at noon because you were looking for the beads?" "Duh." He hugged me gently. "I'm exhausted. My back is killing me from crouching all day." "There are two beads missing, though. You won't be mad I’m late, will you?" I held the necklace, my vision blurring. Tears hit my palms. "Preston... thank you..." "What are you saying? You're my fiancée." I ran into the bedroom to get the beads I had saved. But when I compared them... the color was wrong. The necklace he gave me had a fake "antique" patina, but it wasn't the same as the beads in my bag. I collapsed on the floor, sobbing silently. Preston, how long were you planning to lie to me? What am I to you? A voice came from the door. "Package for Claire Miller. Signature required." Preston walked in, already tearing open the envelope. "What's this? Some legal document?" My phone lit up. Elias: Did you get the contract? I looked up, my eyes locking with Preston’s.
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