Ten Years of a Misplaced Heart

After Jacob Locke brings up breaking up with me once again, I don't wait for him to say anything else.

I pack up my things and move out on my own, then quietly cut ties with our past.

On the first day, I cancel the wedding planner I booked three years ago but kept delaying.

On the second day, I turn off the automatic payments for his mother's treatment. I also politely refuse his sister when she reaches out for money.

On the third day, I accept my superior's transfer proposal and get ready to settle down in a southern city.

The moment I board the plane, I suddenly get curious. Without me, the free housekeeper who hasn't taken a break in the past decade and the always-on ATM, how will Jacob fare?

How will he care for his paralyzed mother, deal with his vain sister, and face his precious junior who's the apple of his eye?

"Ms. Colson, once the wedding planning is canceled, we'll deduct 20% of the deposit per the contract. Please sign here if you have no objections."

After confirming with me again, the staff member handed over the contract and a pen, giving me a detailed run-through before guiding me to sign on the marked line. She was young, and there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she held back.

It was understandable.

I had booked this wedding planning service three years ago. My fiance, Jacob Locke, and I had finalized the plan twice and even gotten to the point of having rehearsals, yet things had fizzled out both times.

To this day, the wedding had yet to happen. And there I was, there to cancel it.

Anyone would've been curious to know what had gone down. But they didn't know, nor would they ever know, that it had only taken one night for me to change my mind. I'd gone from wanting to marry the man I'd loved for ten years to deciding the end the engagement.

What made my decision absolute was something on the very top of Jacob's bookshelf—a single display piece made of building blocks.

I'd accidentally knocked over the bookshelf while doing a deep clean of the house. The thick wooden shelves and the hefty building blocks hit me hard enough to make my head spin.

The crash was so loud that it drew Jacob's attention. He rushed into the study, but the first thing he did wasn't to ask if I was okay or help me up. Instead, he stared at the scattered building blocks on the floor, more furious than I'd ever seen him.

"Ingrid Colson, did you have to toss my stuff just because you weren't happy with the birthday gift I got you?" he roared.

I hadn't even gotten a chance to explain before he told me to get out of his house. I stood at the door all night and apologized countless times, but all I got in return was the building's security chasing me away, claiming that I was disturbing the neighbors.

I had ordered the same set online. And as always, I'd handwritten an apology letter and sent it to him. I never got a reply. Instead, I saw Jacob's face in another woman's social media update.

His junior, Josie Beech, posted a collage of nine photos. It showed a lively gathering at a pizzeria. Right in the center of the collage was a photo of a block-built castle that didn't match the vibe.

"Thank you to Jacob for staying up to build the castle for me! I love this gift so much! Sorry to the haters, but the castle that this film was from is the best part of childhood!"

Within a minute of posting, Jacob had commented. "All that matters is that you like it."

Josie's reply was just as quick. "Thanks, Jacob. I can't believe you remembered when I only mentioned it once. I'm so happy!"

The two of them went back and forth in the comments.

Honestly, the comments were perfectly ordinary. However, it felt like someone had splashed lemon juice straight into my eyes. It felt sharp and stinging.

Last month was my 33rd birthday, and I'd expectantly hinted that I wanted a lipstick. Jacob gave me a surprised look before mocking, "You want to act like a young lady and slather makeup on your face at your age? It makes young ladies look good, but you? You've been with me for ten years. Why do you need to look good?"

He'd been so brutally direct. Even so, he'd still given me a lipstick on my birthday.

I'd been delighted. I'd thought it meant I still mattered to him.

Who would've known that he would commit something Josie had mentioned offhandedly to mind? The building block set cost 1,500 dollars, yet he'd bought it without a second thought.

Such preferential treatment was something I, as his girlfriend, had never experienced in ten years.

It was then that I knew the past decade was just a dream I'd woven for myself. Now, it was time to wake up.