Fooled Eleven Times, Freed at Last

As she stood halfway out the door, Paisley stopped and typed a message, her words carrying a hint of regret.

"Adrian, Justin is sick. I'm taking him to the hospital and will find you as soon as I can. He's sick. Please don't take it out on him. My heart belongs to you alone."

By that point, I was almost numb. Was I really expected to back down just because he was sick?

But the truth was, I didn't owe him anything. Whether his illness was genuine or a lie, it made no difference to me.

I had checked with several friends about Justin's health.

He was born with a congenital heart defect, but thanks to proper care during his childhood and timely heart surgery, he shouldn't be experiencing frequent attacks like these.

What struck me most was how conveniently his "attacks" always seemed to occur—on my birthday, our anniversary, or the very days we were meant to register our marriage.

I had never known anyone whose symptoms flared up so predictably. Was it possible he was controlling it?

Ignoring the flood of messages on my phone, I focused instead on capturing the restaurant's surroundings.

The place was breathtaking—chalets nestled within lush gardens, towering mountains nearby, water sparkling beneath the sky, birds soaring overhead, and fish gliding gracefully below the surface of the lake.

But most of all, this place brimmed with love, quietly bearing witness to countless stories of the heart.

I shared all the photos on social media with just one line.

"Maybe seeing others happy isn't so terrible, after all."

Almost immediately, Justin posted a series of photos. It was clear he wasn't going to back down.

"You always show up right when I need you most."

In one of the photos, Paisley was resting against his shoulder, their hands clasped tightly together. This was how most couples looked. I clenched my phone and slowly sank back into my seat.

With Justin taken to the hospital, Paisley should be back shortly. I wanted to bring things to a proper close, leaving us both with a small piece of good memories to hold onto.

But it turned out I had overestimated my importance in her life. Even after the restaurant had closed, Paisley still hadn't shown up. Despite all the messages I sent, there was no response.

The night air was cold, and to make things worse, a light rain began to fall.

I didn't try to escape it or find shelter. I simply walked home along the same path I'd been following for seven years.

Despite the difficult journey, I kept moving forward.

Half an hour later, I made it home with a fever and sore throat. Paisley still hadn't returned. Having grown used to it, I collapsed into bed and quickly fell asleep.

When she finally thought of me again, the first light of dawn had already broken.

As Paisley walked in, her face was etched with remorse.

"Justin's condition was really serious, so I couldn't leave. I brought you breakfast. Please, have a bite."

Turning away, I grabbed my documents and prepared to walk out.

After being drenched by the rain, I felt completely exhausted. On top of that, I was still running a fever.

I didn't want to argue, but Paisley wouldn't give up. She grabbed my hand, stubbornly refusing to let me go.

"Why is your hand so hot—?"

Before she could finish, I jerked my hand away, desperate to maintain some dignity.

But I pulled too hard, and the documents in my grip flew from my hand, scattering across the floor. As Paisley scrambled to pick them up, her eyes went wide.

"These are international business documents… What exactly is going on here?"

The hurt in her gaze sparked an unexpected thrill within me. Without thinking, a harsh remark left my lips.

"As you can see, I've been assigned abroad. Paisley, let's break up. You're free now. No one will stand between you and Justin again!"