The Architect of My Hate

Before I even went to the firm, I had scheduled an abortion for three days later and bought a one-way ticket to Paris.

Liam once told me that a marriage license couldn't hold him, only my love could.

Since my love couldn't hold him either, I didn't want him anymore.

When I got home, I called building maintenance myself.

The faucet had been leaking for two weeks. Liam said he would fix it but kept putting it off.

He was busy, he said. Busy comforting Chloe, who was always having some crisis or another.

I kept waiting, just as I had waited for the marriage he promised.

But our relationship, much like that faucet, was broken beyond repair.

The moment the repairman finished, a sense of calm washed over me.

It turned out I could survive without Liam.

Liam didn't come home that night.

The next day, as promised, I brought Chloe her meal.

The second night, Liam still didn't come home.

On the afternoon of the third day, as I was heading downstairs with the lunch box, I saw Liam waiting by the roadside.

He was leaning against his car, smoking, his profile handsome.

I was surprised to see him.

He strode toward me, took the lunch box, and said, "Thanks for your hard work…"

He would drag his feet on marrying me, yet here he was, unable to wait a moment longer for Chloe's dinner.

The sheer absurdity of it made a bitter, silent laugh escape me.

He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to cancel our appointment again. How about this, as soon as Chloe's project is over, we'll go get married."

I felt none of my previous joy, my mind just raced, searching for a way to refuse.

Until his phone rang.

The name "Chloe" on the screen stung my eyes.

He answered, and not two seconds later, he turned anxiously.

"Chloe's feeling sick. I have to go check on her. You head home, okay? Take care of yourself."

Just like countless times before, Chloe's call was a royal summons, and he was her ever-loyal servant.

I watched him leave. When I got home, I started packing.

Since I was the one who had moved into his life, I didn't have much to pack. It didn't take long.

I looked around the apartment. Even with my luggage packed, the place didn't look any different.

Just like my presence, my absence made no real difference.

I was about to rest when a new friend request popped up on my Instagram. The message read, "Ava, it's Chloe."

I accepted.

I regretted it a second later.

I knew she wouldn't have anything nice to say, I just didn't expect her to be so brazen.