Of Lost Loves and Heartbreaks

Bertrand Callum was a well-known lawyer in our circle and my fiancé.

We had agreed to go on our honeymoon right after registering our marriage. But he broke that promise again and again.

He took his secretary to every place I had dreamed of visiting.

On my birthday, he brought her to Saltorlini, the place we had planned to go together.

Later, he gave up our marriage registration just because she had sprained her ankle.

Even when I was in a car accident and on the verge of death, he hung up on my call for help because of something she said.

After I recovered, I went alone to Acreatic, a place I had always longed to see, and moved out of the home we once shared.

A week after I left, Bertrand called to scold me.

"Annie, you need to stop overreacting. Are you really going to divorce me over something so trivial?"

I wanted to remind him that we had never actually registered our marriage. But ultimately, I shut up and said nothing. After all, there was nothing between us anymore.

"Annie, I'm sorry. Marina twisted her ankle. Let's postpone the marriage registration."

Bertrand Callum bailed on me with just one phone call from his secretary, Marina Ellison.

The light of hope in my eyes dimmed instantly.

It was happening again.

I couldn't even recall when it started, when anything concerning Marina began to take priority over me.

Even something as important as registering our marriage…I had become the one left behind.

I found a spot to sit and waited for a long time.

Sure enough, Marina updated her social media again.

Her caption read: [Accidentally sprained my ankle. Boss brought me to the hospital.]

The photo only showed a blurred figure from behind.

But I recognized the familiar style of his coat and the faint outline of his limited-edition watch. The man tending to Marina was none other than my fiancé, Bertrand.

Just then, a scheduled notification popped up, reminding me of the trip I'd spent so long planning.

Only then did I realize Bertrand had already turned me down ninety-nine times for Marina.

"I guess… this time, I'll just go alone," I muttered to myself.

Staring at the long list of destinations on the itinerary, I booked a flight and cruise to Acreatic.

Then, without hesitation, I tossed our number ticket for the marriage registration queue into the trash.

Even though I had already decided to leave, I broke down the moment I saw the room I had decorated so carefully.

The wedding photo on the wall captured Bertrand's impatient expression. The wedding dress had been a solo performance, chosen after countless fittings.

Every single piece of furniture in that room, every detail, had been arranged by me, and me alone.

Like someone possessed, I tore through the room, packing everything I could.

But when I came across two plane tickets to Saltorlini, I suddenly froze.

I looked at the flight time and finally broke down