“Hailey,” he finally said, his voice unusually gentle. “I’ll make it up to you. I swear I won’t fail you again.”
In the following days, Jason visited the hospital often. He brought food—meals I was either allergic to or didn’t care for—and tried clumsily to care for me.
Then one day, he took a deep breath and said, “Hailey, I think… I need to put our engagement on hold.”
I froze, my expression blank as he continued.
“All these years, I’ve seen Paula as your shadow. I’ve hurt her so much and now she’s broken. All she wants is a home—a little peace. I need to fix what I’ve done.”
He squeezed my hand tightly, as if the gesture would somehow reassure me.
“But don’t worry,” he said earnestly. “I promised not to fail you. Once Paula is healed, I’ll divorce her and come back to you.”
I stared at him, feeling utterly numb. Marry her? Heal her? Then divorce her? The absurdity was beyond words.
But what did it matter? I nodded halfheartedly and that was all he needed. He left, looking satisfied—as if everything had fallen into place.
He never came back after that.
But Paula didn’t stop. She flooded social media with photos—wedding invitations, engagement shots and even pictures of her kissing Jason.
Meanwhile, I quietly left the hospital and returned home. My parents were already preparing for my wedding. Designers, makeup artists—everything was being arranged to ensure I looked perfect on the big day.
Time passed quickly. On the day of my wedding, as fate would have it, our car ran into another wedding procession.
To my disbelief, it was Jason’s car.
He got out when he saw my father, polite and deferential. “Mr. Johnson! What a coincidence. Is this your daughter’s wedding? Let me clear the way.”
As he turned to leave, his gaze drifted toward the backseat. For a moment, he froze.
