In the fifth year of my long-distance relationship with Derek Jackson, he suddenly got engaged to his first love.
The day I found out, I was at a bridal boutique trying on the wedding dress meant for our future. Derek had promised to marry me in the spring of the following year. Yet, he turned around and said to his first love, "Danna was just a distraction when I was bored, nothing more than a game. You're the one I truly want to marry in this lifetime."
When my friends heard the news, they were worried I might lose my composure and beg him to come back, even at the cost of my dignity. But instead of crying or throwing a tantrum, I announced my own engagement the very next day.
Following my family’s wishes, I agreed to an arranged marriage for the sake of business interests.
Before the wedding, I decided to sell the apartment where Derek and I had lived together. As I packed up my belongings, I realized how few things of his were left—just one or two changes of clothes. Over the past five years, he had left nothing behind.
I suddenly recalled how I would often remind him when he returned from trips. "Bring a few changes of clothes to keep here. It’ll be more convenient."
But he would always reply nonchalantly, "No need."
It wasn’t that there was no need—it was that he had never intended for this place to be a home for the two of us.
I removed the ring from my finger. From that moment on, this place would no longer hold anything of his.
The night before Derek’s birthday, I overheard him on the phone with a friend, talking about a proposal. Tears of joy streamed down my face. Finally, after all this time, he was going to propose to me.
For over six hundred days, I had held on with unwavering determination, and it finally seemed worthwhile. It wasn’t just me walking toward him; he was walking toward me too. That was enough.
Wanting to surprise him, I arrived early at the venue and hid in the bathroom of the private room.
As soon as I closed the door, they entered. Thinking I wasn’t there, Derek’s friend spoke freely. "Derek, you invited Sydney to your birthday celebration even though Danna planned it? You're really impressive. Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out about you and Danna?"
Derek scoffed dismissively. "Danna? Why bring her up? She’s just someone who threw herself at me for fun. She's worthless."
"Women are just for playing around. Didn’t you see how eager she was to be played with?" someone chimed in.
Laughter erupted in the room.
In the bathroom, I felt a chill spread through my body.
So that was how he saw me—how he saw everything I had done for him as worthless.
"Alright, brothers, the real fiancée will be here soon. Make sure to cover for me." Derek chuckled.
"Don’t worry. We can tell the difference between the real fiancée and the fake one."
Shortly after, Sydney arrived. That was the first time I saw her. She was wearing a blue knitted sweater paired with a long white skirt. Her silky hair cascaded over her shoulders, making her look elegant and gentle.
She was a true vision of perfection, the kind of person who could effortlessly captivate Derek’s heart.
They embraced and kissed as if no one else existed in the world, entirely oblivious to my presence.
It turned out the proposal they had been talking about was for Sydney.
How foolish I was.
Watching their intimate display, I finally realized that these past five years had been nothing more than an illusion, a dream only I was dreaming.
All it ever took was a beckoning finger from Derek, and I would rush to his side, thinking we could grow to love each other over time.
I thought, at the very least, he liked me a little.
But now, that dream had come to an end.
Derek and I met at a party. For me, it was love at first sight.
To win his heart, I took a month off work after the event just to fly to his city and build a connection with him.
"Don’t waste your time on me," Derek spat coldly.
"It’s okay, as long as I like you, it’s enough," I insisted.
For that entire month, I showed up at his doorstep every day, always on time, carrying a thermos filled with breakfast I had prepared for him.
He wouldn’t let me into his home, so I didn’t insist. I handed him the thermos when he stepped outside, then left quietly.
If he skipped meals because of work, I would have the housekeeper bring him a glass of milk. When he drank too much, I worried about his stomach and always had hangover medicine ready for him.
"Danna, I don’t like this," he said coldly, rejecting me again.
But I forced a smile and said, "Just one month. Give me one month."
"If, after that, you still don’t like me, I promise I won’t bother you again."
And so, Derek reluctantly allowed me to stay in his life.
I believed in the saying, "Sincerity can move even the hardest of hearts." At the time, I was certain that, one day, he would grow to like me.
But I forgot—when a man accepted someone who threw themselves at him, it didn’t mean he cared. For him, it was just a fleeting amusement, something not to be taken seriously.
Unlike me.
Now, Derek openly posted pictures of himself with Sydney on social media, flaunting their relationship. His bio was subtly laced with sweetness meant for her.
His friends all find amusement in my situation, mocking me for chasing after him for so many years, only to end up discarded.
They think I would react as I always have—with tears, arguments, and desperate attempts to hold on. Even Derek assumed this, which was why he blocked me on all platforms and left for another city overnight, afraid I would chase after him again.
But three days passed, and I remained unsettlingly calm.
I didn’t fly to his city or cause trouble for Sydney. Instead, I carried on with my life, sticking to my daily routines as if nothing had happened.
I deliberately avoided everything related to him, including his social circle.
But some people just wouldn’t leave me alone.
That evening, I went out to dinner with my best friend when we ran into Derek and Sydney at the restaurant.
"When did he come back?" my friend asked, visibly shocked.
I shook my head. "I don’t know."
"Ugh, what bad luck. Can’t even have a peaceful meal without running into him," she muttered angrily. She hated Derek more than I did.
Clicking her tongue, she proposed, "Let’s go somewhere else."
I didn’t mind staying, but I didn’t want unnecessary trouble, so I agreed.
As we turned to leave, Sydney suddenly acted as if she had just noticed us. Her voice rang out, deliberately loud."Ms. Bishop! What a coincidence! Are you here for dinner too?"
"Drama queen," my friend muttered under her breath.
I chuckled softly, glancing at her with complete agreement.
Sydney’s words were calculated, carefully implying to anyone who heard that I wasn’t there for dinner but rather to follow Derek.
Sure enough, the next moment, she rushed over to me.
Clutching my hand warmly, she said, "Ms. Bishop, why don’t we all sit together?"
"That’s unnecessary," I replied, instinctively pulling my hand away.
But she tightened her grip. "Ms. Bishop, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take Derek away from you."
"Of course, you didn’t mean to—you did it on purpose," my friend snapped, glaring daggers at her. She looked ready to pounce if Sydney pushed me any further.
Sydney ignored my friend and continued with her act. "Ms. Bishop, I know you hate me. I have no background, no status, but Derek and I truly love each other. Please, let us be happy."
My face darkened immediately.
She could play her little games however she liked, but she had no right to step into my space and flaunt her audacity.
I shook off her hand. But just as I moved, Sydney released her grip and gave me a strange, sly smile while turning her back toward Derek.
A sinking feeling hit me.
Sure enough, in the next second, she collapsed onto the ground.
"Danna! What are you doing?!"
Before I could even react, Derek had rushed over and shoved me hard.
If it hadn’t been for my best friend catching me in time, I would’ve been the one sprawled on the floor.
"Danna, I’m the one who wronged you, but did you really have to take it out on Sydney?" Derek didn’t even look at me, his words sharp and accusing as he helped Sydney up with exaggerated care.
I stared coldly at him, watching his every move as though she were the most fragile treasure, someone he was terrified of hurting.
How precious. He was so careful, like she might break if he so much as breathed wrong.
A scoff escaped my lips as I glared at him. "You think I’m the one making things difficult for her?"
"Danna, you don’t need to be so bitter." Derek’s face darkened.
I laughed—angry, bitter laughter.
Step by step, I approached Sydney. Before anyone could react, I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face.
"Derek, look closely. This is what it looks like when I make things difficult for her," I intoned coldly.
