Bianca's POV
Tristan let out a sigh of relief. "So that's all it was," he said, almost like he’d dodged a bullet. "Anyway, tomorrow’s our fifth anniversary, and I’m planning to take you to the island. There’ll also be a huge fireworks display just for you."
With that, he went out to take another call. A moment later, he returned with a hurried expression and said, “Bianca, something urgent came up at the office. I have to go take care of it. But I’ll be back tomorrow to pick you up for the island!”
I knew that call wasn’t about work—it was from Sabrina.
That night, Sabrina sent me photos—intimate ones.
[Sabrina: Sorry, Bianca, but I’ve already enjoyed the island for you.]
[Sabrina: We spent the night on the very bed he had all set up for you. We went at it so many times that I’m practically falling apart.]
[Sabrina: I hope you enjoy that bed as much as we did.]
Tomorrow, I would leave.
I didn’t want to get tangled in their twisted love-hate drama anymore. So, I simply replied: [I don’t want Tristan anymore. Since you like him so much, he’s all yours.]
Then, I took off the wedding ring I’d worn for five years, cut up all our photos together, and called Tristan one last time.
He picked up quickly. “Bianca, what’s wrong? Does your stomach still ache?” I could hear a woman’s heavy breathing in the background, though it quickly faded.
Making my voice sound calm, I answered, “Tristan, I’m leaving. From now on, we’ll never meet again.”
