Too Late, My Love, You Lost Me

After seven years of dating, Holden said he was bored and found a younger girl.

This time, I didn't cry or throw a fit. I simply threw away the ring, shredded my wedding dress, and bought a one-way ticket to Los Angeles.

He even bet his friends that I would definitely be back within three days, begging him to take me back.

He was wrong.

Three days passed, and then another three. I completely vanished from his world.

Holden finally couldn't take it anymore and called me: "Ella, stop throwing a tantrum. Come back."

But the voice that answered from the other end of the line belonged to a strange man, who let out a low chuckle: "My wife is asleep and can't come to the phone. I need to wake her up with a kiss first."

Chapter 1

Ella Rosales's POV:

Tonight, at the Burks family's annual charity gala, I planned to propose to Holden.

It had been seven years. I felt the timing was right.

I quietly slipped out of the main banquet hall, only to accidentally hear Holden's voice.

"She's boring. I'm sick of her."

"Ella? I mean, she is definitely gorgeous," his friend chuckled softly. "But you guys have been together for so long, Holden. I still can't believe you let her walk around dressed like that tonight. She has half the room green with envy."

Holden scoffed. "She's always the same. Always exactly the same. Nothing new. Seven years-no matter how pretty someone is, you get tired of looking at them."

His tone was laced with a cold, dismissive contempt I had never heard before. "Besides, I told her it was just a fling, just having some fun. It's no big deal."

A sudden chill washed over me.

A fling? Just having fun?

My mind was spinning. He was talking about me like I was a used toy, tossed aside for a newer, flashier model.

Another friend spoke up, asking, "Holden, what are you doing? Ella is so good to you, and she loves you so much. What the hell is going on with you?"

Holden laughed. "Hero-worship gets old. She'll be fine. She's always fine. If she wants to cling to me, let her."

I slowly turned around, my legs trembling, and walked away from those voices, away from the laughter, and away from the ruins of my seven-year romance.

Later that night, my phone rang. It was Holden. "Weren't you at the gala? Why didn't you come find me?"

"I wasn't feeling well," I replied shortly.

Holden didn't ask a single follow-up question.

I gripped my phone so tightly my knuckles turned white.

In that moment, my resolve to break up with him completely solidified.

Ella Rosales's POV:

Not long after the gala, the rumors started.

A tight-knit circle of Manhattan's elite was buzzing about Holden's new "romance."

Within days, he was seen inseparable from a younger, exceptionally pretty girl.

He flaunted the relationship with great fanfare, showering her with lavish gifts and parading her around at every major social event. It was exactly how he had fervently pursued me once upon a time.

I heard she was completely smitten with him, entirely swept off her feet by his money and charm. I felt a twinge of pity for her. She had no idea what she was about to face.

The official breakup happened a week after the gala.

It was at a private party held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

I had reluctantly attended, accompanying a few mutual friends. Then, Holden walked in, his new flame clinging to him as if she were a second skin.

All conversation in the room abruptly stopped. A dead silence fell. My friends looked at me with concern.

"Why is everyone looking at me?" I smiled, without a trace of forced emotion.

Holden strolled over, his gaze sweeping over me with casual indifference. He cleared his throat. "Everyone, I have an announcement to make." He flashed a smug grin at his new prey. "Ella and I are going our separate ways."

My mouth went dry. I simply gave a stiff nod, a polite gesture. I didn't want him to see me break down.

He squeezed the young woman's hand. "I've found true love, something truly special. I want to give her everything." He looked straight at her, then turned back to the onlookers. "She deserves to be loved, deserves to be cherished."

My stomach churned, and a bitter taste rose in my throat. I felt a strange sense of detachment, as if I were watching a terrible movie playing out right in front of me. I nodded slightly, silently acknowledging his words.

He then turned to me. "Ella, I appreciate everything you've done for me, I really do. So, I want you to know that I'll always be here for you, as a friend. If you ever need anything, anything at all, just ask."

He offered a sickeningly sweet smile. "We can still be friends, right?"

"No," I replied, my voice steady, even though my hands were shaking. "We can't."

His smile froze, replaced by a flash of genuine surprise. He hadn't expected me to refuse.

"Since we're breaking up, let's make a clean break. I wouldn't want your girlfriend to get the wrong idea," I said. "I think I should go."

"I can have my driver take you home," Holden offered.

"No, thank you," I said firmly. "I can manage."

I walked out with my head held high.

The door didn't close all the way, and I could hear them talking.

"I bet she'll be back within a week. I bet she'll be begging Holden to take her back before the end of the month."

"Not even a week, give it three days. I bet she'll come running back to Holden in three days."

Holden's dismissive laugh echoed. "She has nowhere else to go. Give it three days, and she'll be back crying and begging me."

Another friend's voice was softer. "You're right, Ella can't live without you. We all know she's crazy about you."

I gave a self-deprecating laugh and casually tossed my engagement ring into a trash can.

Ella Rosales's POV:

I returned to the apartment, and the silence felt heavier than usual.

My eyes involuntarily fell on a garment bag hanging in the closet. Inside, my wedding dress was carefully preserved.

I had bought it a year ago, a simple yet elegant ivory gown.

The dress was custom-made and non-refundable.

I unzipped the bag, took the dress out, and laid it on the bed.

I grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer and started cutting. First the delicate straps, then the bodice, the lace, and the flowing skirt.

I only packed a few personal items-my laptop, passport, and a small duffel of clothes.

Everything else-the furniture, the art, and all the expensive gifts Holden had given me over the years-I left behind. I didn't want to leave any lingering attachments.

The note I left was brief, simply stating he could do whatever he wanted with the apartment and everything in it. It was all his.

I booked a red-eye flight to Los Angeles.

My best friend, Carly Koch, had moved there after getting married a year ago. She was my rock, my fiercely loyal and brutally honest confidante. I needed her.