I let out a cold laugh. “Sure. Go ahead.”
I opened the bedroom door, ready to get some rest. But the moment I stepped inside, I froze.
The bedsheets were crumpled. The blanket had clearly been slept under.
And beneath the pillow... was a pair of men’s underwear.
Disgust twisted in my gut.
Skyler slept in my bed?
I snatched up my important documents, didn’t spare them another glance, and walked out.
The door slammed shut behind me with a loud bang.
Forget it. I’ll sleep in a hotel tonight. That place already feels filthy. I’ll get someone to deep-clean it tomorrow—and throw away everything that needs to go.
After an exhausting day, my whole body felt like it was about to fall apart.
I showered and collapsed onto the hotel bed. Just as I was about to fall asleep, my phone buzzed.
It was a friend request notification.
I accepted, and in the next moment, a flood of photos came through.
Every single photo was of Veronica and Skyler, and the location was my house.
What was worse, it was on our supposed wedding bed.
The two of them tangled up together in intimate poses, without shame or restraint.
The last message was a single line. [Smart people know when to back off.]
I replied. [If someone wants to collect trash, I won’t stop them.]
Then I shut off my phone and went to sleep.
When I woke up, the sun was already high.
After breakfast, I returned to reclaim my house.
But when I opened the door, I was stunned.
The entire place was decked out with balloons and streamers.
Posters lined the walls—each one a wedding photo of Veronica and Skyler.
Music blasted from the speakers, shaking the walls with noise.
Strangers filled the space, sitting and standing wherever they pleased. I didn’t recognize a single one.
Some were stomping on my sofa. Others raided my fridge. People were drinking from my cups.
My books and documents were scattered across the floor, torn and trampled.
The antiques I’d won at auction, the precious keepsakes my parents gave me—they were being passed around like toys. Some were already broken.
I forced myself to hold back my fury and shut off the music.
Instantly, all eyes turned to me—full of annoyance and confusion.
I asked coldly, “Who are you people? What are you doing in my house?”
They looked at each other, then one said suspiciously, “Your house? Isn’t this Skyler’s place?”
“We’re here for the wedding. Who are you?”
Shaking with rage, I spat, “Wedding? Veronica and Skyler are holding their wedding here?”
Then someone suddenly pointed at me.
“Wait! You look familiar. You’re that third party, aren’t you?”
Before I could speak, a cup of milk tea was thrown in my face.
“Shameless! You actually had the nerve to show up here and ruin their wedding?”
Then more fists and feet followed.
I fought back with all I had, but there were too many of them.
They surrounded me, ganging up on me with growing boldness.
Some punched me, some clawed at my clothes.
One person held up the phone, livestreaming everything. “Let’s show the world what this homewrecker looks like!”
I tried to shield my face, but someone yanked my arms apart.
They pinned me down, laughing as they hung a pair of high heels around my neck like a noose.
Spitting on me, cursing at me—calling me garbage, a worn-out shoe, and a disgrace.
No matter how hard I struggled, it was useless.
They humiliated me, used me for their entertainment, like I was less than a human.
Finally, someone shouted, “The groom is here!”
They paused, and everyone turned toward the door.
I dragged myself off the floor just in time to see Veronica, dressed in a wedding gown, and Skyler in a tailored suit.
Veronica froze when she saw me.
Then she walked quickly toward me and lowered her voice.
“I thought you left... This wedding—it’s not real. It’s just for the kid. We're putting on a show.”
