Drowning in the Playboy's Vows

When we arrived at the gala, a crowd immediately swarmed Ethan.

I was pushed to the side, my lower back slamming hard against the corner of the bar. The pain was so sharp I could barely stand.

Meanwhile, Tiffany, draped in a white haute couture gown, glided to the center of the stage.

Ethan immediately followed, pulled a massive diamond ring from his pocket, and dropped to one knee.

"Tiffany, you're my anchor."

Under the watchful eyes of every guest, he placed the ring on her finger.

The two of them kissed blissfully under the spotlight.

I lowered my head, a bitter, self-mocking laugh escaping my lips.

When I married Ethan, he'd said the timing wasn't right for a big proposal.

I didn't care about the pomp and circumstance; I just wanted a formal moment to commemorate our love.

But Ethan said he was too busy with work, that we could talk about it when he had time.

That "when he had time" turned into three years.

Until we divorced.

Until I had to watch him propose to another woman with my own eyes.

Until I finally understood.

Ethan's heart hadn't changed; he had never truly loved me in the first place.

What I thought was a grand, earth-shattering love was nothing more than a playboy's passing fancy.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Mr. Archer, you and your wife have such a wonderful relationship. Married for years and still like newlyweds."

Ethan, holding Tiffany's hand, frowned.

His gaze cut through the crowd and landed on me.

"You've misunderstood. That woman over there is my wife."

As soon as he said this, the previously lively crowd fell silent.

Everyone's eyes were on me, their expressions a complex mix of pity and morbid curiosity.

"This Mrs. Archer must have the patience of a saint, watching her husband propose to another woman."

"I remember when he was chasing her, it was the talk of the town. It hasn't even been that long. How did things end up like this?"

I gave a self-mocking smile and said nothing.

There were no whys.

It was just out with the old, in with the new.

There was no such thing as a fairytale romance where the playboy changes his ways.

There were only lies and betrayal.

Amid the surrounding chatter, I looked at Ethan with indifference.

"The ring is beautiful. If that's all, I'll be heading back. Don't let me interrupt."

The grand gesture I had always dreamed of was now being performed for someone else.

Ethan froze for a moment, looking as if he might chase after me, but Tiffany stopped him.

"Ethan, you promised me..."

He hesitated, then chose to stay.

But he sent me an uneasy message.

"I'll come home as soon as I've calmed Tiffany down."

"Be good and make dinner. Wait for me. I'm craving that Beef Wellington your mom taught you to make."

Beef Wellington...

My eyes burned.

That was my mother's specialty. Even the ever-picky Ethan couldn't get enough of it.

A damn shame. My mother would never make it for me again.