Chapter 3

I didn' t touch the money. I just watched the bills flutter from her hand and land on the floor, next to the watch I had rejected.

"I don't want your money, Sophia," I said.

Her eyes narrowed. She couldn' t comprehend it. In her world, everyone had a price. She was just negotiating mine.

"What do you want, then?" she snapped, her frustration growing. "A car? An apartment in your name? Is that it?"

She paused, a strange, calculating look on her face. "Fine. You want a wedding? We'll get married. Right now. I'll call my mother and tell her we're going to Vegas. Is that what you need to hear?"

Marriage.

The word felt like acid in my ears. I had begged her to marry me for years. I had saved for a year to buy her a ring, a simple diamond that she had taken, smiled at, and then returned to the store without telling me.

"No," I said. The word was quiet, but it filled the room. "I don't want to marry you."

For the first time, a flicker of genuine shock crossed her face. Not anger, not frustration, but pure, unadulterated shock. She had never been told no. Not by me.

"What did you say?" she whispered.

Before I could answer, the doorbell rang, a cheerful, chiming sound that felt obscene in the tense silence of the room.

Sophia' s expression changed instantly. A bright, artificial smile plastered itself across her face.

"Mark's here!" she chirped, her voice giddy.

She practically ran out of the room. I heard the front door open, followed by her high-pitched, excited greeting.

"Mark! You're early!"

I stood frozen in the bedroom, listening. I didn't have to see it. I could picture it perfectly. Her throwing her arms around his neck, him lifting her off the ground, the easy intimacy they shared. The intimacy I had always craved and never truly had.

A moment later, they walked back into the bedroom, hand in hand.

Mark Peterson was everything I wasn't. Tall, confident, born into a world of effortless wealth. He looked at me with open disdain, a smug smirk playing on his lips.

"Still here, Miller?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension.

Sophia squeezed his hand, looking up at him with adoration. "Ethan was just leaving," she said, her voice a sweet poison.

Then, she held up her left hand. A massive diamond glittered on her finger, catching the light and throwing tiny rainbows across the room. It was ostentatious, gaudy, and nothing like the simple ring I had chosen for her.

Mark held up his hand next to hers. He was wearing a matching, thick platinum band.

"We just picked them up," Mark said, his eyes fixed on me, enjoying my reaction. "A bit of a pre-wedding celebration."

"I told him we should just elope," Sophia said, pouting playfully at Mark. "But he insists on a big wedding. Whatever you want, my love."

She leaned in and kissed him, a long, lingering kiss that was meant for me to see.

After they broke apart, she turned to me. She walked over, stood on her tiptoes, and planted a light, dismissive kiss on my cheek. It was the same way she kissed her father, her driver, her dog.

"Don't be a stranger, Ethan," she whispered, her breath warm against my skin.

Then she took Mark's hand and they walked out, their laughter echoing down the hallway.

The door clicked shut, leaving me in silence.

It was over.

It was finally, irrevocably over.