Part 1I Married His Rival Instead

On the day our parents were supposed to meet and set our wedding date, my fiancé, Garrett, stood me up to be with his childhood best friend, Amber.

To prepare for this dinner, I had texted him every single day for a week to confirm the details.

Every time, he’d dismiss it with an annoyed sigh: "I get it, Fiona. Are you a broken record?"

On the day of the dinner, my parents took a six-hour Amtrak ride from our small Ohio hometown to Chicago. I had booked a private dining room at one of the finest steakhouses downtown to make sure everything was perfect.

The food was served, the tea went cold, and Garrett’s chair remained empty.

I called him for the fourteenth time. Finally, the line connected, but it wasn't his voice on the other end.

It was Amber, her voice trembling with an exaggerated, breathy whimper.

"Fiona? I'm so sorry, Garrett had to rush me to the hospital. I tripped and sprained my ankle..."

In the background, I heard Garrett's voice, sharp and impatient: "Fiona, Amber is hurt and she has no one else here. Just take care of your parents first."

My parents' faces turned pale, then furious.

Garrett's mother tried to smooth things over with an awkward, strained smile. "Garrett has always been too kind for his own good. I’m sure that’s one of the reasons Fiona loves him."

"I'm sure you understand," she added to my parents. "We'll reschedule."

I was shaking so hard with anger I wanted to flip the table right then and there.

But looking at my parents, who hadn't eaten all day, I forced myself to swallow the rage.

After dinner, I walked them to the train station.

"Mom, Dad, give me three days. Once I wrap everything up here, I'll come home and marry Willie."

* * *

"Fiona, are you sure about this? Seven years... are you really just going to throw it all away?"

Right before the boarding gate, my mom held my hand, her eyes rimmed with red.

My dad stood beside her, his knuckles white as he tightly gripped the heavy card envelope of cash he had prepared for Garrett—a traditional blessing to welcome him into the family.

I met their worried gaze, my voice steady and unwavering.

"Mom, I promise you, I'll be home in three days."

The train roared away into the distance.

I turned and hailed a cab.

When I gave the driver the address of the apartment I had shared with Garrett for the last three years, he caught my eye in the rearview mirror, lingering a second too long.

Perhaps it was because my face bore absolutely no resemblance to that of a bride-to-be who had just discussed her wedding date.

I unlocked the front door.

Instead of the familiar, soothing scent of my lavender candles, I was hit by the thick, pungent stench of wet dog.

The expensive silk throw pillows on the sofa had been torn to shreds, stuffing scattered everywhere.

Muddy paw prints littered the hardwood floor.

And right there, chewing on a bone directly on top of my wedding dress garment bag, was a filthy, oversized poodle.

It was Amber’s dog, Duke. Garrett had insisted on bringing him over last month.

"Amber developed a sudden allergy to dog dander," he had said casually over the phone. "We’ll watch him for a few days. You’re always puttering around the apartment anyway, what's the big deal if you feed him?"

I ignored the dog barking hysterically at me.

I walked straight into the bedroom, pulled my oversized suitcase out from the back of the closet, and set it on the bed.

There were no tears, no screaming, no throwing things.

I quietly and methodically folded my clothes, gathered my documents, and packed them away.

On the wall hung our seven-year anniversary photo frame.

I pulled it down and tossed it into a heavy-duty black trash bag.

The glass shattered inside the bag, slicing my index finger.

A bead of blood welled up. It stung.

I pressed a tissue against it without a word and kept packing.

The front door beeped open.

It was 1:00 AM.

Garrett walked in, practically carrying Amber.

Her ankle was wrapped in an absurdly thick layer of bandages, and she was draped entirely over his shoulders.

"Oh, Fiona, you're still awake?"

She blinked her doe eyes, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

"It’s all my fault. I was so clumsy on the stairs, and poor Garrett had to spend half the night with me in the ER."

Garrett tossed his car keys onto the entryway console, his brow furrowing as he looked at me.

"Your parents weren't upset, were they? My mom said they left right after dinner. Why didn't you have them stay the night at a hotel?"

He walked over to the couch, kicked away the shredded silk pillows, his face etched with exhaustion.

"The ER was packed today. Amber was crying from the pain, and I couldn't just leave her. You know how busy I am, Fiona. You shouldn't have insisted on booking the family dinner for today of all days."

I tucked my last winter coat into the suitcase and zipped it shut.

"We set this date three weeks ago, Garrett."

Garrett loosened his tie with an impatient tug.

"Drop it, alright? Amber can’t navigate her apartment with her ankle like this. She’s going to stay in our guest room for a few days, so I need you to help take care of her."

He paused, his tone softening slightly, as if offering a generous concession.

"Once Amber's ankle is healed, I'll personally drive down to your parents' place and apologize to them. How's that?"

Amber hobbled over, clinging tightly to Garrett’s arm.

"Garrett, did I make Fiona mad? Maybe I should just leave. I don't want to come between you two."

"Don't be ridiculous," Garrett said, patting her hand before turning back to me, expecting my usual quiet compliance. "Fiona isn't that petty."

I rolled my suitcase to the front door.

"Sure."

Garrett blinked, clearly taken aback by how easily I had agreed. A smug, satisfied smile began to form on his lips.

"See? I knew you'd understand. Go pour Amber a glass of warm water, and grab some fresh sheets for the guest bed while you're at it."

I didn't answer. My eyes fell on the faint smudge of lipstick on his collar.

"No need," I said, opening the door.

"The apartment is all yours. I'm moving out."