Abandoned Fiancé: My Finger for His Dream

Because of her first love's piano competition, my fiancee, Ashley Blake, postpones our wedding for the 17th time seven years into our relationship.

On the eve of the competition, she chops off my ring finger just because Marc Tyson claims I injured his hand and ruined his ability to compete.

The pain of losing my finger leaves me crying in agony, but she simply holds him in her arms and stares me down with indifferent eyes.

She says, "Stop pretending, Troy Clinton. You're a grown man. What's all this fuss over losing a finger? Besides, you merely lost one finger. Marc has lost the dream he spent his whole life chasing! This is what you owe him."

Her cruel words shatter my heart into tiny pieces.

She has forgotten that my fingers are also meant to dance across piano keys.

"The wedding next week is postponed," she says dismissively while covering Marc's reddened fingers.

She adds, "This has nothing to do with Marc. It's simply because you can't wear a wedding ring with a missing finger anyway."

Clutching my bleeding hand, I finally wake up to reality.

From this moment onwards, we owe each other nothing.

"Let's just call off the wedding..."

The pain shooting through my severed finger, combined with the blood loss, left my voice weak and hoarse.

Even so, both Ashley Blake and Marc Tyson turned toward me instantly.

The disdain in Ashley's eyes deepened.

"Are you playing hard to get again? Troy Clinton, I've seen all your little tricks before."

Winning the international piano competition was not only Marc's dream; it had been mine too. More importantly, it was my mother's dying wish.

Every second wasted here lowered the chances of reattaching my finger.

Bitterness flooded my chest. I no longer had the strength to argue with her. I staggered forward, trying to pick up the severed finger lying in the pool of blood.

Just as I was about to touch it, Marc rushed over and caught my wrist with an innocent look on his face.

The severed finger, still wearing the engagement ring, ended up directly beneath his shoe.

He looked at me guiltily, then raised the hand he had just purposely jammed in the door. "Troy, I know you never meant to injure my hand."

He lifted it slightly with a smile. "Look, it's just a tiny injury. I'm fine."

As he spoke, Marc shifted his weight casually. The hard sole of his leather shoe crushed my severed finger over and over.

"If you two turn on each other over me, then I'd really be the villain here."

By the end, he had even forced out a few fake tears.

Under any other circumstances, I might have admired his acting skills.

However, right now, I had no patience for it.

I stretched my bloody hand toward his ankle, but before I could even touch him, Marc suddenly cried out and stumbled backward dramatically.

"Marc!"

Ashley rushed over and caught him gently in her arms.