Rejecting a Cheating Fiancé for True Love

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed midnight as I paced outside Conrad's study. The door was slightly ajar, warm light spilling into the dark corridor. I hadn't meant to eavesdrop—I'd only come to remind him about tomorrow's dinner with my parents—but his voice, low and intimate in a way I hadn't heard in months, stopped me cold.

"White tulips, darling. Remember how we used to pick them in your grandmother's garden?" Conrad's voice carried a tenderness that made my chest tighten. "I know it's not traditional, but it's what we always dreamed of."

I pressed myself against the wall, my heart hammering. Who was he talking to? And why was he discussing flowers with such reverence?

"The ceremony will be small, just us," he continued, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Candlelight, like we planned when we were sixteen. Our vows will be private—just between us."

My fingers found the engagement ring on my left hand, twisting it nervously as I inched closer to the door.

"I know, I know," Conrad sighed, and I heard him pacing. "Serenity's wedding will fulfill the family expectations. But ours will be what we always dreamed of."

The floorboard creaked beneath my foot, and I froze. Conrad paused mid-sentence. I held my breath, praying he hadn't heard me.

"Irene?" he said softly into the phone. "Are you still there?"

Irene. Of course it was Irene. His childhood sweetheart who'd returned from studying abroad three months ago, all wide eyes and delicate laughter. The same Irene who'd been "just a friend" whenever I'd questioned their late-night texts and sudden meetings.

"I've got to go," Conrad whispered urgently. "We'll finish planning tomorrow. Remember—this is our secret."

I slipped away before he could discover me, my mind racing with fragments of white tulips and private ceremonies and vows meant for someone else.

* * *

Sleep eluded me. At three in the morning, I gave up and padded to the kitchen for tea. The house was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and my own ragged breathing.

Conrad's study called to me like a siren song. He'd be asleep now, oblivious to my presence. Perhaps there was something there—something that could explain away what I'd overheard.

I found his desk drawer partially open, as if he'd been in a hurry earlier. Inside lay his leather-bound journal, the one he'd kept since college. I hesitated only briefly before lifting it out.

The first page I turned to made my blood run cold.

"Serenity is reliable and devoted," he'd written in his precise handwriting. "Someone who deserves my commitment. But I can't stop thinking about what life would be like with Irene."

My hands trembled as I flipped through more pages.

"Trapped by duty," he'd scrawled in one entry. "Serenity's family connections are essential for the company's expansion, but my heart belongs elsewhere."

Another entry detailed plans for what he called "honoring my real feelings" through a private ceremony with Irene while maintaining