Love Can't Be Forced, so I Marry Someone Else

The door slammed shut behind Robert, and the framed photo by the entryway fell and shattered on the floor.

We had bought this place in our third year together. I had handled every detail of the renovation myself, tucking my hopes and dreams for the future into every corner of the house.

Now, the warmth was gone, and all that remained was disappointment.

I opened the closet and took out my clothes, folding them piece by piece before placing them into the suitcase I had prepared earlier.

In the study, I only took the documents I needed and left everything else untouched.

After packing, I arranged for a courier company to send the suitcase to the apartment I had rented.

Once everything was done, I sat on the couch, staring blankly ahead.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a notification.

Mikayla had just posted on her social media.

The caption read, "My cramps are killing me, but someone made me chamomile tea. I'm so lucky."

The post featured a photo of a kitchen.

A man with broad shoulders and a narrow waist stood at the stove, his back to the camera. From the angle of the picture, I could see that he was dressed in a fitted suit with a teddy bear apron tied around his waist.

Even without seeing his face, I could tell from his posture how relaxed he was. This version of Robert was the complete opposite of the cold, distant man he was with me.

In the past, Mikayla's subtle provocations would've sent me into a spiral as I furiously demanded an explanation from Robert.

Now, I simply double-tapped the screen to like the post before blocking both of them.

Not long after, there was a knock at the door, and I received a letter.

I opened it, only to find a wedding invitation printed on a deep crimson card accented with gold leaf.

At the same time, a message from Nathan Crosby popped up on my phone.

Nathan was a steady and reliable man. He was also a venture capitalist I'd been introduced to through a family connection.

When I had finalized my wedding date three days ago, we had agreed to marry that very night.

"Clary, did you get the invitation? This is the design you picked. Let me know if it matches what you had in mind."

I paused for a moment, not expecting him to be this efficient and meticulous. This sense of security was something I had never once received from Robert.

Snapping back to myself, I sent Nathan a confirmation.

Lowering my gaze, I looked at the date printed on the invitation.

It was only three days away, but that was more than enough time.

…

The next morning, I went to the office to tie up any loose ends on my current project.

As soon as I stepped into the workspace, I heard whispers around me.

"Did you see Ms. Glenn's Instagram post? Mr. Fuller made chamomile tea for her himself."

"The whole company's talking about it, and he hasn't denied anything. That's basically a tacit admission."

"I think they actually look good together."

I paused for a moment.

In the past, Robert insisted that office romances were a liability, forcing us to keep our relationship a secret. Now, apparently, he couldn't care less.

The murmurs died instantly the moment my colleagues spotted me, panic and awkwardness flickering across their faces.

Before Mikayla's appearance, they had rooted for Robert and me, knowing that we had built this place from the ground up after we graduated.

I could tell what they were thinking and reassured them, "You don't have to be nervous. They do look good together."

The words had barely left my mouth when an angry voice came from behind me.

"Clarissa!"

Robert emitted a chilling aura as he walked over, his expression dark as his gaze swept across the room.

Everyone lowered their heads at once, not daring to make a sound.

"Come to my office."

He turned and marched inside.

I followed.

The second the door shut, he turned and stared at me in silence.

"What was that about yesterday? Liking Mikayla's post, then blocking me?"

I leaned against the door, keeping my expression neutral.