Eight Years to a Dead End, One Week to "I Do"

We got together when I was 18. At 22, I followed him all the way to New York City. But in the end, all I got for my devotion was a casual, "I never planned to marry her, don't make a big deal out of it." Eight years of love led to absolutely nothing, so I chose to walk away. I was gone for three years. The day I returned to the city, his friends asked me: "It's been three years. You guys must have made up by now, right?" They all thought I came back to beg for a reconciliation. Little did they know, I came back to get married to someone else. 01 "You're getting married?" I was organizing the guest list and replied, "Yeah. The wedding is next week." My friend paused on the other end of the line before asking, "Then... what about Ethan?" Hearing Ethan's name after three long years gave me a momentary sense of whiplash. But Ethan and I had ended three years ago. I was the one who initiated the breakup. It was his birthday. I had come back from a business trip a day early, planning to give him a surprise, but I accidentally overheard him talking to his friends. A friend asked him, "You're 26, man. When are you planning to propose to Chloe?" Ethan's posture was lazy, a half-smile playing on his lips. "I never planned to marry her. Don't make a big deal out of nothing." His friend was stunned. "You guys have been together for years. If you don't marry her, who are you going to marry?" Ethan scoffed. "You said it yourself. We've been together for years. Do you really think there's any spark left?" To be honest, in that split second, I couldn't believe my own ears. We had just been on the phone half an hour prior. On that call, his voice had been incredibly soft, playfully begging me to hurry back so we could celebrate his birthday together. It had only been thirty minutes, yet I could no longer associate that man with the gentle, considerate boyfriend I thought I knew. The thought of breaking up materialized in that exact moment. That night, I didn't push open the door to confront him. Instead, I calmly turned around, went back to our apartment, and packed my bags. Ethan came home at 2 AM. The moment he walked through the door, he bumped right into me holding my suitcase. He froze for barely a second before quickly stepping forward, pulling me into his arms, and affectionately nuzzling the crook of my neck. "Is this a surprise? I love it." I pushed him away. "Ethan." "Yeah?" "Let's break up." It wasn't that we had never threatened to break up before, but every single time, I was the one who lowered my head and begged for peace. Our mutual friends always said, "Ethan is insecure. He needs someone who loves him enough to never leave. If you really want to be with him long-term, you need to be more accommodating." Back then, I really, truly loved him. So I was willing to coax him, putting his emotions above everything else. From 18 to 26, I loved him fiercely and without reservation. But in the end, all it earned me was: "I'm never going to marry her." 02 "What are you talking about? Are you breaking up with me just because I didn't spend my birthday with you?" Ethan's voice pulled me back to reality. He looped his arms around me again. "Alright, I'm not mad. We're not breaking up." Actually, his friends weren't entirely right. Ethan wasn't an awkward lover. On the contrary, when he wanted to be, he was incredibly good at coaxing people. On the surface, every time we "broke up," he was the one who initiated it, and I was the one who patched things up. But no one knew that in the dead of night, behind closed doors, he was the one who would use every trick in the book—soft words and hard demands—to win me back. He knew exactly how to poke at the softest parts of my heart. He made me willingly forgive him. Just like now. He was playing his old tricks again. Just as he leaned in to kiss me, I shoved him away hard. Caught off guard, he stumbled back a few steps. Barely steadying himself, he heard me say, "I'm serious. I'm not joking with you." In an instant, his tone turned icy, his eyes dark and terrifying. "Say that again?" It wasn't surprising he was angry. After eight years together, this was the very first time I had initiated a breakup. Everyone thought it was impossible for me to leave him. Even Ethan believed that. But this time, I was truly exhausted. My gaze lingered on his handsome profile for a few seconds before I pulled away without hesitation, grabbing my suitcase and walking toward the door. I hadn't taken more than a few steps when the suitcase suddenly wouldn't budge. Ethan gripped the handle of my luggage, staring daggers at me. "Why?" He had beautiful eyes. When those deep, reserved eyes looked at you, it always gave you the illusion of being stared at with profound love. I avoided his gaze. "If we don't break up, will you marry me?" Over these eight years, he was rational, ambitious, and had long since planned out his perfect future. He just never included me in it. The silence in the room was terrifying. I don't know how long that dead silence lasted before he finally asked: "Do we have to get married? Can't we just date forever?" I met his gaze head-on. The man's dark eyes instantly grew even more unfathomable. It was the same look that had made me fall for him the very first time we met. But no matter how hard it was to let go of eight years of history, continuing a dead-end relationship was pointless. I looked into those bottomless eyes and let out a small, bitter laugh. "Dating for too long gets boring." The veins on his hand gripping the suitcase handle popped. He practically ground the words out through his teeth: "You're bored?" "Yes." Ethan said "Okay" three times in a row. By the third time, his eyes were bloodshot. I didn't dare look at him anymore, terrified I'd look even more pathetic than he did. I turned around, yanked my suitcase free, and kept walking. In the quiet night, the only sound was the heavy rolling of my suitcase wheels against the hardwood floor. As I reached the entryway, a freezing voice came from behind me: "If you walk out that door today, don't you ever come back!" I paused, my throat suddenly dry. After a long moment, I left him with a single word—"Okay"—and walked out without looking back. 03 After that day, we saw each other one last time. It was the night before I left New York. I realized I had left a crucial document in his study. I texted him to let him know before I went over. The living room was empty, so I headed straight for the study. Passing by the master bedroom, I heard voices. I instinctively looked inside and saw Ethan lying on the bed, while a woman carefully wiped his face with a warm cloth. I recognized her. Olivia Bennett. The daughter of his father's close friend. She was also the fiancée his family had arranged for him. Noticing me, Olivia blushed and quickly explained: "Chloe, please don't misunderstand. Ethan had too much to drink. We... nothing happened between us." I nodded, having no desire to chat, and went to the study. When I came back out, the bedroom door had been shut. Even so, I could clearly hear Ethan call out, "Wifey~" His voice was affectionate, gentle, and intimate. Even though we had already broken up, in that moment, an uncontrollable sourness still spread through my chest. I didn't dare listen anymore and quickened my pace to leave. As I reached the entryway, Ethan called out to me. "Don't come over anymore after this. Olivia will mind." He leaned against the bedroom doorframe, looking lethargic. His shirt was unbuttoned down to the third button, revealing a lipstick mark right on his collarbone. My eyes lingered on his collar for a few seconds before I nodded. "Okay." The moment I stepped out the door, the sound of a shattering vase echoed from behind me. Followed by Olivia's gasp: "You're bleeding!" I didn't turn back. I walked away as fast as I could. That was the last time we saw each other. Over the next three years, we never contacted each other once. So, to this day, he still didn't know I was getting married. 04 When the news of my wedding got out, the first person to call me was Mason Cole. He was a mutual friend of mine and Ethan's. "Chloe, I heard you're getting married?" I didn't hide it. "The wedding is next week. I won't be sending you guys invitations." My fiancé had already sent out invitations to his own circle; it wouldn't be appropriate for me to send separate ones to my old crowd. As soon as the words left my mouth, I heard the mocking laughter of other people in the background. "See, I told you! If she was really getting married, why wouldn't she invite you? It's obviously just an excuse to come back to the city." "She's out of options, right? Ethan is getting officially engaged at the end of the month. She has to make one last desperate play." "Exactly! After eight years together, how could she just stand by and watch Ethan marry someone else?" I froze, quickly realizing that all of Ethan's friends were gathered together. They were waiting to see how I would beg Ethan to take me back. This was their usual MO. In the past, whenever Ethan and I fought, they would place bets on how many days it would take me to cave and beg for forgiveness. They were absolutely certain I couldn't bear to let Ethan go. Setting aside how wealthy his family was, just based on those eight years of emotional investment, no one believed I could just drop it all and walk away. They clearly thought this time was no different. Just as the thought crossed my mind, someone yelled into the phone: "E! If she begs to get back together, are you gonna take your ex back?" After a long pause, Ethan's voice finally drifted over the line, cool and slow: "I'm getting engaged. Why are you even bringing this up?" Someone laughed and joked: "You think Ethan is an idiot? Giving up the Bennett family heiress to marry a girl with zero background... If it were you, would you?" Amidst their roaring laughter, an old memory surfaced in my mind. When I first moved to the city, Ethan's friends treated me with respect. I thought they had accepted me. That was until Mason's birthday party, when Olivia lost a priceless diamond necklace. Her friends surrounded me, demanding I hand it over. By the time Ethan arrived, I had been shoved around and looked like a total mess. Olivia looked at Ethan and said: "Ethan, please don't be mad. They just really wanted to help me find it, so they resorted to extreme measures..." "Once we find it, I'll apologize to Chloe, okay?" Ethan smiled, walked up to me, and affectionately patted the top of my head. "Alright. It's not a big deal." I gripped the hem of his shirt. In the moment he appeared, all my grievances and feelings of being wronged rushed up at once. Just as I was about to defend myself, I heard him say: "If you wanted it, you should have just told me. Why do something like this?" In that split second, my brain completely short-circuited. I looked at the man in front of me in utter disbelief. "You don't believe me?" Ethan looked at me and didn't say a single word, but his mocking gaze said it all. I couldn't stop shaking. My hands and feet went ice cold. After being together for so long, I thought he knew exactly what kind of person I was. I never expected that, in a situation like that, without even asking me a single question, he would immediately stand on the opposing side. In that moment, everyone was looking at me. With contempt. With mockery. With indifference. Not a single person trusted me. For some reason, it made me think of what my grandfather had told me before I moved: "Kid, I won't stop you from doing what you want to do. But you have to remember, social classes aren't that easy to cross." "Even if he holds you in his heart, will his family and his friends ever truly accept you?" I had patted my chest and promised my grandpa, "Don't worry, Grandpa! Ethan won't let us down." I was young and arrogant. I didn't understand what 'unsurpassable social classes' meant. It was only when I was pushed into the storm, isolated and helpless, that I profoundly realized there was an invisible, insurmountable chasm between Ethan and me. 05 The laughter on the other end of the phone continued for a long time. I don't know who shouted: "Mason, ask her where she's holding the wedding. We used to be friends, the least we can do is drop by and give her a wedding gift." After a moment, Mason's voice came through: "Chloe, which church are you having the wedding at?" "The Grand Cathedral in Manhattan." As soon as the words left my mouth, someone immediately chimed in: "Listen to her! I told you she's delusional. The Vance family heir's wedding is next week, and it's also at the Grand Cathedral. Let me guess, her husband is Liam Vance?" The crowd laughed even harder. Even Mason couldn't help but gently warn me: "You remember Liam Vance, right? He's getting married next week too..." "Mason," I cut him off. "That day is my wedding with Liam." The other end of the line went dead silent. I don't know how much time passed before an explosive roar of laughter erupted. "She must have lost her damn mind! Now she's dragging Liam Vance into her delusions." "She really will say anything to make Ethan jealous." "Ethan, just take pity on her and go see her. After all, she went crazy because you broke up with her..." I didn't listen to the rest. I hung up. A text message from an unknown number immediately popped up: [Add me back.] The familiar tone, the familiar phrasing—I instantly knew it was Ethan. Expressionless, I deleted the text, turned off my phone, and went to sleep. When I woke up and turned my phone back on the next morning, I received a video from Mason. It was a recording of what happened after I hung up last night. Ethan was sitting on a single sofa, lighting a cigarette, the glowing red ash illuminating his callous features. He let out a low, raspy laugh. "Plenty of people have broken up with me. Do I have to go see every single one of them?" "Hell yeah, E! But if you don't go see Chloe, are we just gonna let her walk away empty-handed?" Someone else retorted: "It's her own fault for wanting a breakup! Now she regrets it and wants to get back together—three years later! She's too spoiled!" "Exactly. Look at her making up ridiculous lies about marrying Liam Vance. Ethan was way too good to her." Ethan didn't speak. He just looked down, playing with his phone, lost in thought. Then, Mason spoke up: "Chloe isn't a liar. Maybe she's telling the truth." "Come on, Mason. Are you defending her because she gave you something on the side? Or do you have a thing for her?" Mason glared deeply at the guy. "Have you all forgotten about the time she was framed for stealing that necklace? It was because of your prejudice that she had to suffer all those dirty looks for nothing." There was a brief silence in the private room. Suddenly, someone said: "It's easy to prove if Chloe is lying. You guys all got the Vance family invitation, right?" "I'll call home and have someone take a picture of the invite and send it to me." About a minute later, the guy laughed. "I knew it. Why would Liam Vance marry Chloe Miller? The bride's last name is Miller, but her first name is Harper." "Ethan, you can relax. She definitely came back to beg for a reconciliation." ... The video ended there. They were right. Liam's bride was named Harper. But what they didn't know was that Harper was me. Three years ago, my grandfather consulted an astrologer who said I had been carrying a lot of bad energy in recent years, and legally changing my first name would ward off the bad luck. So, my grandfather gave me a new name. Harper. 06 I knew that coming back to the city meant I would inevitably run into Ethan. But I never expected to run into him this fast. On the day of my wedding dress fitting, Liam had a last-minute emergency at work and said he'd be late. When I arrived at the bridal boutique, Ethan was sitting in the VIP area. Our eyes met. I gave a polite nod of acknowledgment and followed the attendant into the dressing room. While I was waiting for the makeup artist, Ethan walked in and locked the door behind him. By the time I registered what was happening, he was already standing right behind me. The vanity mirror reflected his handsome face. "Why did you block me?" His tone was casual, as if we had never been apart. Actually, he was the one who deleted and blocked me first. Three years ago, on the day I left the city, he removed me from his contacts and blocked my number. How did I know? I didn't, initially. Mason accidentally let it slip. Three years ago, Mason passed a message for Ethan, asking me for a specific photo of him. I told Mason I'd just send it directly to Ethan. But Mason said, "You won't be able to. Just send it to me." I was stunned. No one knew this, but Ethan and I had an unspoken rule— Even if we fought and broke up, we were never allowed to delete or block each other. That was the first time. And Ethan was the one who broke the rule. That day, after sending the photo to Mason, I opened my camera roll and deleted every single photo and file related to Ethan. At the same time, I deleted and blocked him on every single platform. And now, the instigator was here questioning me. I cautiously backed away, putting distance between us. "Ethan, we're broken up. Besides, we're both getting married soon. There's no reason for us to contact each other anymore." He slowly curved his lips into a meaningful smirk. "There's no one else here. You don't have to pretend." I frowned. "Pretend what?" "Saying you're getting married—isn't it just to provoke me? To make me come back to you?" To be honest, I never expected that even after three years, Ethan would still be so absolutely certain I would go back to him. And I finally understood. During those eight years, I had tolerated his toxic behavior time and time again, which gave him this unshakable, arrogant confidence. "Ethan," I said. "Whatever you want to think, I came back this time to hold my wedding. Once the wedding is over, I'm leaving." "If I did anything that gave you the illusion I want to get back together, I apologize." Ethan didn't say a word. He silently scrutinized me. After a long time, he suddenly spoke: "Is it because I'm in an arranged marriage?" "It has nothing to do with that, Ethan. I'm marrying someone else—" He cut me off. "Okay, okay, I get it. You're still mad." He completely ignored the second half of my sentence and softened his tone. "It's been three years. You're really still holding a grudge?" Saying that, he raised his hand, wanting to pat my head like he used to. I dodged his hand, my brow furrowing deeply. "Do you not understand English? I said I came back this time to marry Liam Vance. It has nothing to do with you." His hand just froze in mid-air. His eyes went cold, inch by inch, and his voice turned incredibly dark: "Chloe, if you wanted to find someone to piss me off, why did you have to pick Liam? You can't even touch the threshold of the Vance family." Just like before, Ethan still didn't believe me. Those prejudices were etched into his very bones. He was convinced I couldn't even get close to Liam, let alone marry into his family. For some reason, I suddenly laughed. "In your heart, am I really that pathetic?" His brow knitted tightly. "What are you talking about?" He paused, then let out a sigh. "Alright. If you want to come back to me, then come back." "Come back where? To your marital home? What identity do you expect me to have when I go back?" His face darkened slightly. "Chloe, I'm already making concessions. What more do you want?" "I don't need them." Not wanting to waste any more time in this pointless argument, I tried to step around him and leave. As soon as I turned, he grabbed my wrist. Ethan's voice was low: "If you really want to get married that badly, I can marry you." I looked back at him, a mocking smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Marry me? Didn't you say you never planned to marry me from the very start?" His face went stark white. "You... who told you that?" "You said it yourself." I looked at him deeply. "That day, I was standing right outside the door." Ethan's eyes went from confused, to shocked, to a sudden, crushing realization. "So the reason you broke up with me... was because you heard that?" "Yes!" If I hadn't acted on a whim to go back and celebrate his birthday that day, I might still be completely in the dark. I might still be desperately holding onto a relationship that was never going to lead anywhere. The atmosphere in the cramped dressing room instantly shifted. The man's thin lips pressed into a cold, hard line. "Why didn't you come in and ask me?" his voice was hoarse. "If I asked, wouldn't the answer have been the same?" He wanted to say something else, but a knock on the door interrupted him. It was the boutique attendant. "Ms. Miller, do you need any help?" "No, I'm coming out." Catching Ethan off guard, I ripped my hand away and walked out briskly. But when I saw who was outside the door, my footsteps faltered.

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