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10 Fruitless Years Novel Cover

10 Fruitless Years

After dedicating ten years to her relationship with Warren Vaughn, she faces a devastating truth: he has no interest in marriage. When confronted, Warren responds with a cold, business-like detachment. The final blow arrives via a picture on her phone, showing his new secretary embraced in his arms, wearing a unique wedding gown and a true-love diamond ring. Seeing the rare tenderness in his eyes for another woman, she decides to walk away from the future she once desperately wanted.
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Chapter 3

: Everyone Knows About Their Relationship

The waiter led us to the private room they frequented. Every room in this restaurant has a different design, which is its signature feature. This particular room was where Maya Linden often took her photos.

Warren Vaughn ordered a dual-flavor hot pot.

Perhaps the manager was held up, or maybe the waiter just wasn't paying attention.

They brought a spicy red-oil hot pot to our table.

Warren Vaughn's face instantly darkened. He hurriedly asked someone to switch it for a dual-flavor hot pot. In the meantime, he shot several glances my way, only relaxing once he saw that my expression was unchanged.

Warren Vaughn has never been able to handle spicy food, not even as a child. Whenever we ate together, I always made sure to order a few mild dishes for him.

But on Maya Linden's social media feed, every photo she posted was of bubbling red oil. I remember the caption she wrote:

"My crush can't handle spicy food, but he came with me anyway."

"I heard that a while ago you bought a ring called 'True Love,' and that wedding dress you had custom-made in France a year ago… were they for me?"

I spoke unexpectedly. At my words, Warren Vaughn's hand shook, and he dumped all the shrimp paste onto my side of the pot.

"No, it was for a client."

He called the waiter over and ordered another serving of shrimp paste.

A forced smile touched my lips. I couldn't hold back any longer. Looking up at him hopefully, I asked:

"Warren Vaughn, are you still going to marry me?"

He didn't even look up, replying perfunctorily in a detached tone:

"Of course. I promised you."

He poured me a drink, perhaps sensing I was in a bad mood, and tried to comfort me:

"Sienna, don't overthink things. A wedding requires a lot of preparation, and I don't want to rush it. After all, it's a once-in-a-lifetime event."

I lowered my head and said nothing, staring at the photo on my phone that Maya Linden had sent me just hours before.

She was wearing the diamond ring known as "True Love," dressed in a one-of-a-kind wedding dress, smiling as she nestled in his arms while he gazed back at her, his eyes full of affection.

Warren Vaughn had said something similar a long time ago. Back then, he had no money. His friend, afraid I'd leave him for being poor, told him he should just get the marriage license with me right away.

He was the same way back then, saying it hadn't been easy for me to be with him.

He said he was determined to give me a wedding that would be the envy of every girl in the world.

'But I knew he didn't want to marry me anymore.'

I took out the photo and placed it in front of him. "The client you mentioned… is it your secretary?"

'I thought that with the evidence right in front of him, he would panic, become anxious, or just admit it outright.'

However, he just lit a cigarette, took several long drags, and only then spoke, his voice low.

"Maya Linden's boyfriend died in a car crash. She said I look a lot like him and begged me to take a photo with her, just to fulfill a dream of hers.

"There's really nothing going on between us."

My eyes stung at his words, and a sharp, prickling pain filled my chest.

"Warren Vaughn, do you know? If you really love someone, you notice every single change in them the moment it happens.

"I've always known it was you eating hot pot with Maya Linden. So many times, I could smell the strong scent of it on you when you came home."

"And there was always that cloyingly sweet scent of perfume on you, too."

Warren Vaughn lifted his sleeve to sniff it, his face instantly darkening.

"You never used to smoke in front of me."

Warren Vaughn stared at me, stunned. He immediately crushed out the cigarette in his hand. It was only then, as if the realization was just dawning on him, that he looked at me in a panic:

"Sienna, let me explain…"

"You're going to hear me out first."

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