His One Night Obsession

Amber POV

"Liam, you’re an A-grade asshole!" I yelled, storming out of the room with my mind spinning.

Should I have kept my voice down because it was 6 a.m.? Probably.

But what was I to do when I came over to my fiancé’s apartment to make him breakfast, only to see him actively banging a girl I didn't know in OUR BEDROOM? Be happy?

I lunged for the kitchen counter, shaking his grimy hands off my skin as he tried to reach for me but failed tragically, tripping over his trousers and falling face-first.

“Babe, please… I can explain,” he pleaded weakly, but I just continued putting together the groceries I bought, paying no heed to his flimsy excuses. The only thing I wanted right now was to be out of here.

I put the vegetables in the bag, walking over his sprawled body to the living room. I slung my bag over my shoulder, hugging the groceries to my chest as I walked to the door. However, my fingers froze on the doorknob with his words.

“Don’t try to pretend that you didn’t see this coming, Amber. We weren’t going to work out,” he said behind me. I stilled, blood blurring my vision.

“Don’t pretend?” I repeated in disbelief, turning around to meet a scowl on his lips. “Liam, we were together for four years! I’ve been engaged to you for half of those years, and you’re telling me I knew you were going to cheat on me?”

I slammed my bags onto the small table, whipping my phone out and storming up to him to show him the screen still glowing with his last text: “Yeah, the wedding venue is fine. Just go ahead and book it.”

“We were talking about wedding venues yesterday, and I came this morning to see you with some whore and you’re trying to blame me?” I asked, looking into his eyes for an answer.

“S-she’s not a whore,” he only whispered, averting his gaze from mine.

My eyes widened in a chilling realization. He hadn't just cheated today; he had been doing this for a while.

“Oh,” I replied, stepping back with a weak smile on my lips, trying to hold myself from crying.

“She is everything you cannot be for me, so I am not sorry, Amber,” he continued, slipping on his shirt to cover the bite marks on his chiseled chest. “You’re just so boring to be with. I was tired, but you kept clinging on.”

I shut my eyes. “Boring.”

The word slapped me, colder than any palm. I had sacrificed every spare hour, every fun night out, to work and save for the wedding he now casually destroyed. My head throbbed as I recalled the endless nights I’d worked to cut costs, to be responsible, to match up to his savings since he worked in a reputable firm.

And while I toiled endlessly, all he saw was his own selfish lack for entertainment.

My hand fell limply