My Wedding, His Breakdown

The next day, Dylan told me that his fiancée, Whitney Jackson, would be moving into the house we were currently living in.

“My family arranged this, and it’s hard to turn them down. Vee, you’ve always been generous. You won’t mind, right?”

I said nothing.

Every single item in this house, every piece of décor, was something I had picked and arranged myself. I had poured all my hopes for the future into this place. Now, it was about to welcome a new lady.

Whitney arrived while I was packing up my things, getting ready to move back to my old apartment.

She clung affectionately to Dylan’s arm.

“Dyl, who’s this lady?” she asked sweetly, tilting her head in feigned innocence.

Dylan hesitated for a second, then cleared his throat. “She's the sister of a good friend of mine, Maeve Sandler.”

I let out a bitter scoff. Three years of my love and devotion were reduced to nothing more than 'the sister of my friend'.

Meanwhile, Whitney was whining about how she wanted to redo all the décor, saying it was too old-fashioned and not to her taste.

Dylan agreed to everything, his voice dripping with indulgence for her. “You can do whatever you want. It’s all up to you.”

He had once told me how much he hated others interfering in his life. However, he was obeying her every word now.

A wave of bitterness rose in my chest.

Suddenly, Whitney pointed at a miniature house model in the corner of the living room and exclaimed, “What is this ugly thing? Get rid of it!”

I rushed over and stood in front of her. “You can change everything else but this.”

That miniature house model was handmade by Dylan, modeled after the home I used to dream of as a child. He had once said, “Vee, someday, I’ll give you a real home.”

Whitney immediately turned to Dylan with a pitiful look. “Dyl, she yelled at me…”

Dylan frowned. “It’s just a stupid toy. If Whitney doesn’t like it, then throw it.”

“A stupid toy?” My voice trembled. “Have you forgotten this was your promise to me—”

“Oh no!” Whitney suddenly interrupted in a shrill voice. She casually swept her hand across the shelf, and the model crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

Amid the wreckage, I saw the emerald bracelet embedded in the base, now broken in two. It was the only thing my mother had left me.

Tears streamed from my eyes as I raised my hand and slapped Whitney across the face.

She ran crying into Dylan’s arms.

“Maeve Sandler!” he roared, pushing me hard. I stumbled and fell to the floor.

My elbow hit the cold, hard ground. A searing pain struck me. I stared at Dylan in disbelief. He was momentarily stunned too.

But when he saw Whitney sobbing, he pointed at me and scolded, “What’s wrong with you?! Why are you acting wildly? It’s just a cheap thing!”

“Cheap thing…” I echoed his words, my vision blurred with tears. Bracing myself on the floor, I stood up. “Dylan, do you remember what you said back then?”

He froze at my question, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. However, it quickly turned to disdain. “It’s just a broken model. What meaning could it possibly have? I’ll buy you more of anything you want.”

At that moment, I finally saw him for who he truly was. His promise of getting me a home had just been a lie spoken without thought.

I grabbed the suitcase beside me and turned to leave. Dylan caught my hand.

Annoyed, he said, “You’re leaving over something so small? Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not going anywhere!”

With that, he forcefully shoved me into the guest room and locked the door.

That night, I lay awake, listening to the sounds of passion coming from the master bedroom, each noise slicing through me like a knife.

After the noises finally stopped, Whitney pushed open the door and strutted in, wearing one of Dylan’s oversized shirts. The shirt barely covered her thighs. The collar was loose, exposing her smooth, fair skin and the red marks scattered across it.

She looked at me smugly. “Ms. Sandler, thank you for taking care of Dyl for the past three years. But he was just playing with you. Men need a little distraction sometimes. Now that his real wife is here, it’s time for you to snap out of your dream.”

With a sway of her hips, she turned and walked out like she wanted me to see exactly what she had just taken from me.

Yes, it was time to snap out of it. I picked up my phone and dialed my father’s number.

“Dad, I agree to the arranged marriage.”