David and I had been together three years. In all that time, he’d never kept any sticker packs in his phone—let alone sent me a single emoji.
Clearly, someone had coached him.
Scrolling down, I saw nothing but Peyton’s unilateral snapshots—teaching him how to wave a sparkler, explaining her “expert” grocery shopping tips, dragging him through amusement parks.
Every frame stabbed me like a dagger straight to the heart.
I wiped away my useless tears and tossed everything related to David into the fire beside me.
The flames roared to life, tongues of heat lashing at my face, but I didn’t flinch.
Then a new message popped up.
Several indecent photos from Peyton—David pressing her against a bathroom wall, kissing her hard, gripping the back of her head; kneeling between her legs.
All that followed by taunting messages:
[You see that, Allie? David loves me. You’re nothing but the pawn he needed for his business alliance. If you’re smart, you’ll step aside.]
[Oh, by the way… I’ve known about your pregnancy for a while now. But I’m not letting anything stop me from having David—so… yeah, your child died because of your own selfishness.]
By the last line, my heart felt like it was being crushed in a giant’s fist.
I couldn’t breathe.
I sank to the floor, dizzy with pain, when my phone rang. I must have hit “answer” without thinking—because then voices spilled right into my ear, amidst the moan.
“Who’s better David, me or Allie? Who do you love more?”
“You little minx, that’s a stupid question. Of course you. Someone like Allie isn’t worthy of me—I stopped loving her a long time ago.”
“Then you’d better treat me well…”
“You mean last night’s three rounds still weren’t enough for you?”
The call cut off there.
My stomach twisted violently and I stumbled into the bathroom to retch. By the time I was done, I was trembling, nearly faint. David and Peyton’s words kept echoing in my head.
Before dawn, I grabbed a small suitcase and left the villa. I deleted my fingerprint from the entry system.
Once that was done, I walked away without looking back, climbing into a taxi. The winter wind slapped against my face through the open window. The scenery blurred by outside, like a lantern reel of every moment David and I had ever shared. Then a ringtone I set personally for him rang.
“Hello?” I answered without thinking.
“Allie, are you not home?” His voice was hoarse.
After a long pause, I replied flatly,
“Let’s break up, David. We were only in a contractual marriage anyway—there’s no legal certificate binding us. From now on, we go our separate ways.”
And may we never cross paths again, I added silently.
