The booking window for the Thanksgiving holiday express trains was set to open in sixty seconds. Duke and I had agreed weeks ago that we would head back to my hometown together. With one minute left on the countdown, his phone rang. It was his executive assistant, weeping into the receiver. "Duke, what do I do? My mom sprained her ankle, but my cell signal here is so spotty, I can't get the app to load..." I kept my eyes glued to my screen, double-checking our passenger details in the final thirty seconds. Suddenly, Duke snatched the phone right out of my hand. His thumbs flew across the glass, wiping out my passenger information and pasting in his assistant’s driver's license number instead. By the time he tossed the phone back onto my lap, the confirmation screen flashed green. He and his assistant had secured two tickets to her hometown. Every other seat on the train was sold out. "Are you insane?" My voice trembled. "You promised my grandmother—" "Her family lives out in the countryside, Leila. She can't afford to wait," he cut in, not looking at me. "I'll explain things to your grandmother later." I sat there, completely paralyzed. My grandmother was in critical condition in the ICU. Her final wish was to meet the man I was going to marry. I had to beg Duke three separate times before he reluctantly agreed to come. And now, he wasn't going with me. He had taken the ticket meant for me and handed it to another woman. I took a slow, deep breath, opened my messages, and pulled up a contact I hadn't texted in months: "Come pick me up. Grandma wants to see you." 1 I kept refreshing the app, refusal after refusal, until every single route flashed red with the word "Sold Out". The cushion beside me sank as Duke sat down, setting a freshly poured glass of tea on the coffee table. "What’s the rush? Just try booking again tomorrow." "Duke, Thanksgiving travel is peak season," I said, keeping my voice level despite the tightness in my chest. "Once the tickets are gone today, that's it." His fingers stiffened around his mug. It seemed to finally hit him, and he leaned over to pull my phone from my hand, tapping mindlessly against the glass. No matter how many times he refreshed, every train heading toward my hometown for the entire five-day holiday was completely booked. The living room fell into a heavy silence. After a few excruciating seconds, he set the phone back on the table without looking me in the eye. "I panicked. I thought you’d be able to grab another one right after." "I told you half an hour ago that the transit authority was releasing all holiday tickets at once today, not in batches." Duke let out a heavy sigh, stood up, and walked out onto the balcony to make a call. "Fine. I’ll call a few contacts and see if anyone has spare passes." I watched his silhouette through the glass door as he made several calls. When he finally came back inside, he tossed his phone onto the table and deliberately avoided my gaze. Whatever tiny sliver of hope I had left vanished instantly. Both of our phones buzzed at the exact same moment. On my screen was a text from my parents, asking if we’d managed to get our tickets. On his screen was a booking confirmation for him and Brianna. Duke cleared his throat softly. "Brianna’s mother sprained her ankle. She really needs to get home. As for your grandmother... I’ll go visit her with you after the holiday rush and explain everything in person." My hands curled into tight fists. "Grandma is on life support in the ICU. How is she supposed to wait for your 'next time'?" Duke’s brows pulled together in a deep frown. "Leila, does your grandmother even know you're using her like this?" I froze. "What is that supposed to mean?" He leaned back against the sofa, his tone souring with impatience. "You tell me she’s dying, you nag me three separate times, and the second I say yes, you force me to book travel. Honestly, it feels like you're exaggerating her health just to guilt-trip me into going back home to rush a wedding." A cold numbness crept from my chest all the way down to my fingertips. "You think I’m lying about my grandmother dying just to trap you into marrying me?" He didn't answer, but the hard angle of his jaw said enough. "Duke, she has acute heart failure," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "She’s in intensive care, staying alive on intravenous medication. I showed you the video my dad sent from the hospital." Duke turned his head toward the window. "Anyone can fake a video. Brianna told me she heard from someone at work that your cousin pulled the exact same stunt to trap some wealthy guy." My arms dropped limply to my sides, and a bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. He didn't believe the video my father had shot inside the ICU. But he believed office gossip passed along by Brianna. The doorbell rang. Duke immediately got up to answer it. The moment the door opened a crack, Brianna threw herself into his arms. "Duke! You actually got me a ticket!" I stood up slowly and watched as Duke casually wrapped a hand around her waist to steady her. "Yeah. I'm taking the drive back with you in three days." A spark of victory lit up Brianna’s eyes, though she quickly replaced it with a look of hesitant concern. "You're coming with me? But... weren't you supposed to go home with Leila?" Duke answered carelessly, giving me the briefest side-glance. "She didn't get a ticket." The hesitation on Brianna’s face disappeared instantly. She forced down a smile, put on a flustered expression, and stepped back from Duke. "I'm so sorry, Leila... I had no idea that ticket was meant for you..." She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. "Let me Venmo you for it right now! It was six hundred dollars, right? I'm sending it over!" I didn't say a word. Duke reached out and caught her wrist, stopping her. "Why are you paying her back?" He turned a sharp look toward me. "You’re not hurting for cash, Leila. There’s no need to nickle-and-dime a girl who just graduated." I hadn't said a single word. Meeting my eyes, Brianna shrank back slightly, letting her hand drop to grasp the hem of Duke's sleeve in a pathetic display of meekness. I didn't care about the six hundred dollars. Money wasn't what I was looking for. I looked straight into Duke’s eyes, forcing myself to remain unnervingly calm. "Duke, if I tell you right now that my grandmother really is dying... what are you going to do?" He paused for a fraction of a second. "Leila, for your grandmother's sake, watch your tongue. I already told you—once the holiday weekend passes, I’ll take time off to go see her with you." He still didn't believe me. Without another word, I turned and walked into the bedroom. When the door clicked shut behind me, the large, framed engagement portrait hanging on the wall vibrated softly. We had held our engagement party a year ago, and taken those photos six months back. But Duke had found reason after reason to delay setting an actual wedding date. I pulled out my phone and tapped open the chat window. "Come pick me up. Grandma wants to see you." A reply came back within seconds, just four words: "Leaving right now. Wait." I took a long, shaky breath and closed my eyes. This wedding—the one I had spent months holding my breath for—was over. 2 When I stepped out of the bedroom, Duke and Brianna were gone. I packed my essential clothes into a cardboard box and scheduled an express courier service to ship everything straight to my parents' house. At eight that evening, while I was pouring a glass of water in the kitchen, I heard Brianna’s high-pitched voice coming from the foyer. "Duke, isn't this way too much? My parents are just simple working-class people. They’ve never even seen designer brands like this before." Duke pushed the front door open, his voice carrying clearly into the kitchen as he caught sight of me. "People who live honest lives without constantly playing mind games aren't simple, Brianna. They're genuine." I could hear the bitter bite in his words. He was taking a shot at me. But since I had already decided to leave, I didn't care to explain myself anymore. I glanced casually at the dozen luxury shopping bags stacked near the entrance, then turned back toward my room. Brianna suddenly jogged over, a sweet, eager smile pasted across her face. "Leila! I picked this out specifically for you! You can wear it when you head back home!" She held out a cheap, bright red dress. The fabric felt synthetic and scratchy, the pattern looked thirty years out of date, and the hem was embroidered with sloppy, crooked floral patterns. The clearance tag was still attached, glaringly obvious: "$15.00". My fingers tightened around my glass, my tone turning cold. "I don't want it." Brianna’s eyes instantly flooded with tears, her voice trembling. "Leila, I just wanted to buy you a present with my own hard-earned money... I didn't mean to pick something so cheap. Please don't be mad at me..." Duke stepped in instantly, pulling her behind his back like a shield. "Don't push it, Leila. Brianna’s an entry-level assistant. This is the best thing she can afford right now." "The best she can afford?" Earlier today, she had offered to casually transfer six hundred dollars without blinking an eye. Now, a fifteen-dollar bargain-bin dress was the best she could do. I met Duke’s defensive glare head-on. "My grandmother is lying in an ICU bed. You think it's appropriate for me to wear a bright red dress back home?" His gaze flicked across my face before turning away, looking utterly exhausted by me. "You don't need to bring her up every single minute." "If you were truly in such a desperate rush," he added, "you would have driven back days ago instead of waiting around for my approval just to book a train." I stared at him, incredulous. "Duke... do you honestly not know why I didn't drive back earlier?" His back went rigid. He stared blankly at the wall beside us. When my father first called me from the hospital, I had panicked and sprinted toward my car. But my dad stopped me on the phone. He told me that during Grandma’s brief moments of consciousness, she kept whispering for her future grandson-in-law. She was the woman who had raised me. I couldn't bear the thought of denying her last wish. So I humbled myself. I begged Duke three times over two torturous days before he finally gave me a nod. And the moment he agreed, he immediately claimed he was too busy with work and couldn't leave a day earlier than the first afternoon of the holiday weekend. I knew interstate traffic during the holiday rush would be a nightmare, which was why I spent days stressing over train schedules. I was terrified Grandma wouldn't hold on, yet I spent every hour trying to be understanding of his busy work schedule. Only today did I realize he was never busy at all. He had simply fed into Brianna’s poisonous little rumors, decided I was a liar, and deliberately dragged his feet to teach me a lesson. The phone in my pocket vibrated against my thigh. I set my water glass down on the counter. Before turning around to leave, a sudden memory crossed my mind. "Duke, at our engagement party last year, Grandma handed you an antique pocket watch." I looked at him. "It belonged to my grandfather. Give it back to me. I'm taking it home." Duke didn't answer right away. He walked over to the counter, picked up my water glass, took a slow sip, and tossed out a careless reply. "Brianna liked it. I gave it to her." My brain went completely blank. Before I could even process his words, Brianna let out a soft, horrified gasp from behind him. "I... I had no idea that watch was so important, Leila! I think... I think I lost it." 3 I snapped a step forward, my voice dropping an octave. "Lost it? Where did you lose it?" Duke caught my shoulder, his brows knit tightly. "What are you screaming for? It's just an old watch." The air in the living room plunged to sub-zero. Brianna lowered her head, her shoulders shaking as she began to sob in earnest. I whipped my head around to stare Duke down. "That isn't just a watch! It’s the only heirloom my grandfather left behind!" "I know," he snapped back, his voice rising. "But when your grandmother handed it over, she said it was for her grandson-in-law. Once she gave it to me, it became my property. I can give my things to whoever I want." I couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. I braced my stance, my hands curling into tight, white-knuckled fists. "We haven't signed a marriage license yet, Duke. That means it isn't yours. Give it back to me." "And if you can't," I added quietly, "then the engagement is off." Duke’s face drained of color, turning a mottled, furious grey. "Leila, you're actually going to throw a massive fit over a damn watch?" "Brianna didn't lose it on purpose! There's a limit to how unreasonable you're allowed to be!" Brianna’s tears streamed down her cheeks in heavy streams. "Duke, please don't fight with Leila because of me... It’s all my fault. I was careless..." Duke turned to give her a reassuring glance. "This has nothing to do with you. Once a gift is given to me, it's mine. If I pass it along to you, it becomes yours. If it’s lost, it’s lost." I stared at his cold, dismissive expression. "Duke, my grandfather's final keepsake is gone. And your response is 'if it's lost, it's lost'?" "What else do you expect?" he barked. "She's a young girl, what do you want her to do about it now? Don't cross the line, Leila." "Cross the line." My grandfather's legacy was gone, and he was accusing "me" of crossing the line. In that quiet second, I realized just how much he had changed. He hadn't always been like this. During our first year together, when my grandmother heard I was dating someone, she hand-knitted a pair of thick wool gloves and mailed them to him. When he picked up the package, he was so thrilled he posted photos online, claiming he couldn't bear to wear them out because they were too precious. When my aunt sent jars of pickled vegetables from her garden, he ate them with every meal and even proudly brought them to his corporate office. If a colleague tried to take a bite, he’d guard the jar, declaring it was proof that my family truly approved of him. Back then, he cherished every single detail that came from my home. But ever since he hired Brianna as his personal assistant, he stopped letting my family send anything. He claimed regional food was unrefined and made the apartment smell. Whenever good wine or gourmet snacks arrived at the house, he reserved them all for her. If I uttered a single word of protest, he’d accuse me of being petty and jealous. And now, without my knowledge, he had given away my grandfather’s antique watch. And when Brianna lost it, he turned around and blasted me for being difficult. Or maybe he hadn't changed at all. Maybe it was just that I had stopped mattering to him a long time ago. "Duke, I'm not joking around with you," I said softly. "The watch is gone. So are we." He stared down at me, a thick vein bulging along his temple. "Leila, are you genuinely telling me you want to break off our engagement over a watch?" "I told you. It was never just a watch." "Have you had enough yet?!" He slammed his hand down onto the entry console with a deafening crack. Brianna flinched, stumbling back a step in terror. She clutched the cheap fifteen-dollar dress against her chest, crying pitifully. "Duke, please stop fighting... Leila, how much was the watch worth? I'll repay you, okay? I'll figure out a way to borrow the money right now..." I stood frozen in place. "I am not throwing a tantrum." Duke’s entire face stretched tight, his teeth grinding so hard I could hear the enamel scrape. He gave me a single, slow nod. "Fine. You want to break off the engagement? Then pack your shit and get the hell out of my apartment." 4 My heart gave a violent, painful thrash against my ribs. "His apartment." We bought this place together, splitting the down payment fifty-fifty. I spent months overseeing the contractors, picking out every tile, every light fixture, every piece of furniture. On the day we moved in, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, refusing to let go. We stayed up late talking about where we’d plant hydrangeas on the balcony, where we’d set the dining table, which room would belong to our future child, and which small room we’d turn into a shared study. Back then, he pressed his lips to my temple and whispered, "This is our home." Now, he called it "his" apartment. And he was telling me to get out. I swallowed down the burning lump in my throat, turned away, and walked over the scattered glass shards on the floor to get to the bedroom. The main boxes were already with the courier. Only a small leather shoulder bag remained on the bed. As I packed my phone charger and wallet inside, Brianna’s tearful voice echoed through the crack in the door. "Duke, Leila definitely doesn't want to leave... You should go stop her. She's just speaking out of anger..." Duke’s tone was dripping with dark irritation. "She won't leave. She’s obsessed with me. She's just taking advantage of my soft heart, using her grandmother as an excuse to force me into giving her a wedding date." "If I don't break this pathetic habit of hers today," he added, "she’ll think she can manipulate me into anything." Brianna sniffled softly. "But... what if she actually walks out..." Duke let out a cold, confident scoff. "She doesn't have the guts. She'll sleep in some cheap hotel for a couple of days to make a point. Once she cools off, she’ll be on her knees begging me to take her back." I knelt beside the bed, slipped the diamond engagement ring off my finger, and set it softly on the nightstand. I remembered the day he proposed. It was snowing heavily outside, but he was so nervous his neck was flushed bright red. Our friends were cheering around us while he dropped to one knee, his hands shaking so violently he could barely hold the velvet box. "Leila, I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Will you marry me?" I had cried so hard my makeup ran down my face. And today, he claimed I was manipulating him into marriage. Eight years of loving him. This was the first time he had ever told me to get out. And it would be the last. I picked up my leather bag, opened the door, and walked straight out. Brianna was still sitting on the sofa dabbling at her eyes while Duke handed her tissues, rubbing her shoulder with gentle, rhythmic strokes. He raised his eyes, caught sight of my small shoulder bag, and a smirk spread across his face—an unmistakable "'I knew it'" look. I didn't stop for a fraction of a second. Inside the elevator as it descended, my phone buzzed in my hand. "I'm downstairs. Waiting at the curb." I walked out of the lobby and opened the passenger door of Glenn’s SUV. He immediately leaned over to take my bag and click my seatbelt into place. "If we bypass the main interstate and stick to the state routes, traffic shouldn't be too bad," Glenn said softly, his voice a steady anchor in the dark. "We should reach the hospital before dawn." I gave a low murmur of assent, pulled out my phone, opened the transit app, and canceled both of the holiday express tickets. A few seconds later, the app flashed green—cancellation successful. Six hundred dollars was refunded straight back to my bank account. I refreshed the screen a second later. The two seats were snatched up instantly by other travelers. Glenn pulled a warm fleece blanket from the back seat, draped it gently over my shoulders, and turned the heater up a notch. "Get some sleep. I'll wake you when we pull into the hospital lot." "Okay." The car glided smoothly out of the residential complex. Looking through the side mirror, I watched the warm yellow lights of the balcony grow smaller and smaller. Until the car rounded the corner, and everything dissolved into the pitch-black night. On the official morning of Thanksgiving weekend, Duke loaded up his SUV. The trunk was crammed full of high-end wine, imported tea sets, and luxury gift baskets meant for Brianna’s family. He hadn't slept well over the last two days. When Leila walked out that night, she had actually left. He was so infuriated that he couldn't bring himself to step foot inside the primary bedroom, choosing instead to crash on the hard mattress in the guest room. Brianna was worried about driver fatigue, repeatedly reminding him to take it easy on the road. But Duke didn't want to slow down. He wanted to drop Brianna off at her home, spend a day there, and hurry back. He figured after giving Leila another forty-eight hours to stew alone in a hotel room, she’d finally come back with her head bowed, ready to apologize. When they pulled up to the local station to drop off some paperwork before taking the highway, Duke tried to print a confirmation receipt at the kiosk. The machine beeped red. A station attendant walking past took one glance at the red error screen. "Sir, that prompt means your tickets were canceled and refunded."
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "554434", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel